Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) by J. L. Berg

Author:J. L. Berg [Berg, J. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00WIMMUVA
Publisher: JL Berg, LLC
Published: 2015-04-20T23:00:00+00:00

NEARLY THREE WEEKS had passed.

Three weeks had been filled with laughter, love, and endless adventures.

Ever since that day in the hospital when Lailah had read to me about wanting to stick her toes in the ocean, I’d known that making every dream and wish on that Someday List of hers come true would become my life mission.

Giving her so much beyond that was just icing on the cake.

We’d spent the last two years of our lives slowly ticking away at that list—from sitting in a parking lot as I’d tried to teach her to drive all the way down to taking a hayride and carving pumpkins. I never wanted her to miss out on life again.

But now, in these few precious weeks, where life had paused and nothing else mattered but the two of us and the new rings on our fingers, I wanted her to know just how extraordinary and big this world was.

We’d started in Iceland, climbing mountains, exploring ice caves, and yes, even swimming in the Blue Lagoon. We’d spent five magical days in the Arctic before packing up and flying south for something a bit warmer.

It was then when I’d introduced her to the secluded Seychelles Islands.

When we’d landed and I’d told her where we were, she’d looked at me, quirked an eyebrow, and said, “Where?”

I’d laughed, loving that I’d finally stumped her.

As her eyes had settled on the heavenly tropical views, she’d suddenly not cared where we were, and she’d just fallen in love. Located in the Indian Ocean, the Seychelles were known for their nearly flawless, untouched beauty. It was exactly the type of place I’d envisioned for our second stop.

We’d spent seven days under the warm heat, lounging on the beach, swimming in the ocean, and enjoying the never-ending views from our private pool. We’d even had our own version of Christmas right there in the middle of nowhere, exchanging gifts, after we’d decorated a tiny palm tree and danced naked to holiday music in our cabana.

It was a hard place to leave. But I believed sheer curiosity had played its part in getting her on the plane that day as we’d said our farewells, and soon, we had been flying to our last destination—Santorini, Greece.

Steeped in history, this hillside city looked like something out of a storybook. Thick white houses made from clay dotted the landscape so perfectly that it was as if someone had come along and painted them there. Every building, it seemed, had sweeping views of the sea, and I just couldn’t get enough.

Kneeling against the stucco railing of our balcony, I continued to stare out, watching the sun slowly set beneath the water’s edge. I didn’t know how long I’d been there, admiring the distant islands and lingering clouds. Every tourist website and travel book had boasted about the beautiful Santorini summers. With clear skies and beautiful beaches, it was a vacationer’s paradise, but during the winter, things cooled down, and so did the weather.

To me, the idea of having a little slice of Greece nearly to ourselves sounded like perfection.

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