It's July 15th, 2022, and Sarah Walker has finally scored her dream job—working with dolphins at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute. Socially awkward and academically driven, Sarah's never found love—but when she meets a tech genius whose inventions have the chance to make her research a reality, she finds herself falling for him. Together, their work could change the world … that is, unless someone else gets hold of it first.

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck…

Chapter 18: Cogitations and Confessions

Chuck closed his eyes, letting the sun bathe his face. Its warmth did little to assuage the cold desolation that gripped his heart—and the steady lap of the waves against the shore did nothing to bring him peace.

He blinked, refocusing on the horizon, where a lone sailboat tacked against the wind. Coming here—to the spot where they'd met, where they'd made love for the first time—had been an act of masochism. He'd hoped it would bring him some clarity; but instead, all it had done was make things worse.

When he'd left Sarah's house, he hadn't had a destination in mind. Honestly, he'd been too numb to think. He'd just stepped on the gas, pointed his car in a random direction, and left. As he drove around, picking turns and highway entrance and exit ramps at random, all he could think was, This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Sarah's spiteful words—you're just like Bryce!—echoed in his mind over and over again. It felt like a nightmare, one he couldn't wake up from no matter how hard he tried. Just a day before, they'd been so happy. Surely she'd call him any moment and tell him how sorry she was, that she'd been taken by surprise and had reacted in the worst way possible. There was no way she'd meant what she said.

But the phone never rang, and the more he drove in circles, with no company but his own, the more the numbness faded, alchemizing into anger. Yeah, he hadn't done what he'd done for her to get anything in return—but the fact of the matter was, he'd still done it. He'd spent a lot of money and a tremendous amount of time—on his vacation, no less!—to help bring her project to fruition. He'd called in favors with Laz and Manoosh, lost sleep, and now, to top everything else off, he had a legal quagmire to deal with, thanks to her greedy, conniving ex-boyfriend.

The longer he drove around, the madder he got. He'd driven for hours, until his Tesla's warning light had come on, alerting him to the fact that he needed to charge the car soon. Driving on autopilot, he'd made his way back to the beach—their beach. Honestly, he hadn't been able to think of another place to go. Yeah, he could've called Laszlo, or gone back to his sister's house—but he wasn't in the mood for Laz's macho version of a pep talk or the "I told you so" he'd surely get from Ellie.

He'd barely made it back to where it had all started, parking a few blocks from Sarah's house and then walking along the planked path through the dunes. Sinking into the sand a few feet away from where they'd made love that first night, he'd wrapped his arms around his knees and sat, staring out at the horizon, as the tide crept closer and closer. He hadn't moved, even when the water had washed over his feet and soaked his shorts.

His phone had buzzed incessantly, but other than checking to make sure it wasn't Sarah, he'd ignored it. There was no one else he wanted to talk to—and right now, he wasn't even sure he wanted to talk to her. Instead he'd just sat there, thinking, as the sun sank below the horizon and the moon rose in its stead. He'd sat on the beach all night as the tide came in and receded, as surfers and early-morning joggers came and went. By the time the sun rose, heralding the start of a new day, he'd been there for almost twelve hours.

He'd spent the entire night going over the situation from every possible angle, trying to figure out how it had all gone so horribly wrong. One thing was for sure—he should've heeded Ellie's warning. That night at the bar, when they were all celebrating, she'd made it clear that she didn't approve of his choice not to tell Sarah the truth about Sedna.

He could picture his sister perfectly—hands fisted on her hips, hazel eyes fixed on his as she demanded to know what he'd done. And he'd given her the only answer he had.

"I set up the foundation so Sarah could concentrate on making her dreams come true without having to worry about funding her research," he'd said. "This is something I can do for her—and I want to. She's worked so hard for so long. I have the means. Why shouldn't I help her?"

Ellie had frowned, her eyes scanning his face. "I get it, Chuck. I do. But don't you think this is a bit … extreme? I mean—you could've made a one-time donation. Or donated to a third-party grantor like a community foundation that would've disbursed the funds. Setting up a foundation of your own just to fund her project—and committing to supporting the entire thing for five years…" She'd sighed. "Even if you can afford it, and setting aside the question of whether it's a good idea—why are you keeping this from Sarah?"

It was a good question, and he should've had a better answer. But again, all he'd had to give Ellie was the truth, no matter how inadequate. "After what happened with Jill, I didn't want to taint our relationship with how successful or unsuccessful I am. I didn't want her to think she owed me anything. I want her to like me for me."

Ellie had shaken her head, looking resigned. "She's bound to find out, Chuck. You must realize that."

Yeah, he'd realized it, all right—but that didn't mean he knew what to do about it. "I know," he'd said, sounding as conflicted as he'd felt. "I'm trying to figure out how to tell her. I know I screwed up—but just look how happy she is."

The two of them had glanced over at Sarah, who was laughing at something Lou had said, a huge smile on her face. She radiated joy and contentment, and watching her, Chuck couldn't help but smile too.

"You really do care for her, don't you," Ellie had said, and it wasn't a question.

Reluctantly, he'd brought his attention back to his sister. "Yeah. I do."

A wry expression had crept across his sister's face. "Exactly how bad is it?"

He'd barely admitted it to himself, much less said the words out loud—but Ellie had asked, and maybe if he answered honestly, she'd understand his motivations for starting Sedna. "I…" He'd swallowed hard, then lifted his head and gone for it. "I think I love her, Ellie."

His sister's eyes had widened. "Oh my God, Chuck," she'd said, sounding stunned. "Have you told her? Did she say it back? Do you—"

He'd held up a hand, grinning despite himself. "No, I haven't told her. And no, she hasn't said it to me. I just—I want this to work, Ellie." He'd taken a deep breath, unsure of how Ellie might take the next thing he had to say. "She—um—she asked me to move here."

"She what?" Ellie's eyes had tracked over to Sarah again, then found their way back to Chuck's face. "Well, she might not have said she loved you, but asking you to relocate, just to be with her—that's a sure indication she's serious about you, if I've ever heard one. And after only two weeks—maybe she's as crazy as you are." Ruefully, she'd shaken her head again. "I'm so happy for you, little brother. I was beginning to think that Jill had ruined you for life. But—don't screw this up, okay? If you want a shot at making it work, you can't start out your relationship with secrets. You're trying to do an amazing thing for her—but if you don't handle it honestly, it could all blow up in your face."

Well, in the end, Ellie had been right, as usual. And he'd been a fool.

It was unbelievable—first, he hadn't had enough money for Jill, and now, he had too much for Sarah.

He thought he'd grieved when he lost Jill—for their relationship and for what he'd imagined his life would be like. After all, they'd been together for over a year, and her rejection had cut him deeply. But he supposed he hadn't loved her the way he thought he had—because although he'd only known Sarah for a couple of weeks, what he was feeling right now made losing Jill feel like little more than an unsettling, unpleasant deviation from his life's path … not a complete derailment that sent him hurtling toward the abyss.

Maybe it was his own fault for letting Sarah in the way he had, for trusting her with his heart. He'd seen so much of himself in her, imagined that she understood him on a visceral level that surpassed their short acquaintance. But she'd been so quick to believe the worst of him, and now here he sat—on the beach where they'd met, watching the tide suck the detritus of broken shells out to sea, feeling more alone than he ever had in his life.

Okay, so he should've been up front with her from the start—but he hadn't kept the Foundation from her out of malice. If she knew him at all—if she cared for him—how could she not see that? Had he been deluding himself to think that the two of them had a special connection? Was she just using him for his technical expertise—taking advantage of the fact that he was so obviously besotted with her?

This was on her, he decided, digging his toes into the wet sand. He'd been nothing but kind and generous, and she had chosen to weaponize that, so quick to believe the worst. If that was the way she felt, maybe he should just pull the Foundation's funding. She could figure out how to fund her project on her own, now that Sedna, Jensen, and even Bryce's contributions were out of the picture.

But Chuck had never been a spiteful person, and as the sky darkened and the stars began to appear, pinpricks in the black void above the water, he came to the realization that he'd never do such a thing. He believed in Sarah's research, even if she didn't believe in him. He thought it was groundbreaking and had the potential to change the world—and he'd been honored to play a part in making that happen. Even if he wasn't in the picture anymore, he wouldn't rescind his funding. He'd offered it in good faith. Just because she'd stooped so low—because she didn't want anything to do with him anymore—didn't mean he would go back on his word.

The moon rose higher in the sky, casting a silver glow on the water. Chuck sat still, contemplating. His anger began to drain away, and the more he rehashed what had happened, the more he began to realize that maybe—just maybe—he'd been in the wrong. Just like Sarah had judged him on a single action—underwriting Sedna and not telling her—he was judging her on a single reaction, rather than thinking about everything he knew about her as a person. And the more he considered what she'd told him about her history, the more he began to realize how this must have seemed to her.

He knew Bryce had lied to Sarah repeatedly, that she had trust issues. She'd told him how much it meant to her that Chuck appreciated her for who she was, not what she looked like. She'd told him, too, about the issues that her mother and father had had with money. Clearly, finances—and how they were used to exert power over others—were a hot-button issue for Sarah. And what had Chuck done? In an effort to provide her with financial security so that she could pursue her passions, he'd stepped all over her right to choose.

He'd meant the Foundation to be a gift, maybe even a wonderful surprise. But instead, it had come across as a secret he'd deliberately kept from her, as a means of orchestrating her affections from behind the scenes. That was the last thing he'd intended—but Ellie had been right. He should've made the offer to Sarah before ever inking the deal, giving her the option to accept or reject it. Instead, he'd just assumed this would be what she wanted—and in the process, he'd taken her sense of agency right off the table.

In a way, Sarah's reaction confirmed just how special a person she was. Most people probably would've been more than willing to accept whatever strings they imagined came with the Foundation's funding in exchange for having their research underwritten for the next five years. The fact that Sarah had gotten so upset could mean only one thing—she'd cared about him and felt betrayed by what he'd done. Then she'd lashed out in self-defense, calling him the worst thing she could think of.

He'd made a complete mess of everything. She was beautiful and brilliant—and just as screwed up as he was. He'd thought of her as so perfect, he hadn't taken the time to realize that what he'd done might trigger her deepest fears—especially in the wake of Bryce's treachery. Chuck's timing had seemed ideal … but in reality, it couldn't have been worse.

Sarah hadn't been a bitch. She'd just been human. And he'd run right over her thoughts and feelings to give her what he thought she needed—rather than ever bothering to ask what she wanted.

What was wrong with him?

If he was brutally honest, he knew the answer. He'd been so desperate to prove himself worthy of her love—so eager to make her happy—that he hadn't considered how she might feel about his actions. And maybe, deep down, he'd been afraid that if her project fell apart, she wouldn't need him anymore.

Yeah, their insecurities had collided in a truly spectacular fashion.

Surely, he thought, clasping his arms around his knees as the wind picked up and the waves began to lash the shore, there had to be something he could do. He'd created this situation; there had to be a way he could fix it. If she would only let him explain, he could tell her everything. He'd apologize for being high-handed and tell her he understood where she was coming from—that he'd handled everything all wrong.

But what if she wouldn't listen—if she never wanted to talk to him again? How would he ever find someone else as special as she was? Yes, she was gorgeous, but what he felt for her went well beyond that. She'd had the courage to believe in her work even when everyone else in the scientific community had blown her off. She'd had the fortitude to persevere through years of education and research even though there'd been no clear payoff—and might never be. Her love for the dolphins was evident every time she talked about them or interacted with them. She'd opened her life to him, and along with it, a realm of possibilities that he'd never dared to imagine—both personally and professionally. It had been a long time since anyone had presented him with such a formidable intellectual challenge, but she'd managed it. Add to that the rightness that suffused him when they were together, the contentment he'd felt sitting on her porch and star-watching, the sense of connection between them when they made love, which just got more intense every time, and he was a goner.

When he thought of life without her—of going back to the way things had been before, an endless cycle of work, eating, and sleeping, with the occasional social interaction thrown in—a pit yawned in his stomach. His life had seemed full enough, gratifying even—but after what he'd experienced over the past two weeks with Sarah, he realized it had been anything but. She'd shone a light into all of the empty corners of his life and filled them with kindness, humor, brilliance, and wit. Without her, everything just seemed … gray.

It had taken him years to get over Jill, and what he'd felt for his ex wasn't even in the same realm as his feelings for Sarah. What was he going to do now, moon around for another decade? Should he just give up on having a relationship altogether?

He stared out at the gray-blue waters of the Pacific, watching a pelican swoop down and dive for fish. It surfaced, folding its wings back and coasting on the waves. Another followed, and then a third.

There was something reassuring about the fact that, even when his world was falling apart, the cycle of life continued. It was a reminder that he was part of something far larger than himself—that maybe there was a larger plan or pattern at play. His problems were minute in comparison.

He'd sat here feeling sorry for himself for long enough. He couldn't take back what had happened—but he could control his reaction to it. What he'd had with Sarah had been beautiful, even if it hadn't lasted. No one could ever take those memories away from him. And no matter what, he knew she'd go on to accomplish incredible things. If he'd played even a small part in making that happen, he was the lucky one.

He lifted his head, breathing in the scent of the salt air—and with it, the sense of peace that had eluded him. He would drive back to Ellie's house, pack up his stuff, and go back to Cupertino—away from this place where everything reminded him of Sarah. He'd put himself back together. And in the weeks and months to come, when he would surely feel miserable all over again, he'd do his best to remember this moment—when, despite everything that had gone wrong, he believed that ultimately, he'd be okay.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten dinner—or breakfast either, for that matter. Yet another reminder that life went on, no matter how devastating your losses. He got to his feet, stretching, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face and the cool wash of the water over his toes.

You'll be all right, he told himself. You've been through tougher situations before. She asked you to leave; don't call her. Don't beg. Give her the space she asked for, even if it kills you to do it.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned to leave—just as a familiar, impossible voice sounded behind him.

"Chuck!"

OoOoOoOoO

When Morgan had shown Sarah that Chuck was at 'their' beach, she hadn't been sure what to think. Had he been there all night? More importantly, would he still be there when she arrived—and would he be willing to listen to what she had to say? She wouldn't blame him if he wasn't.

She'd made her excuses to Lou and Laszlo, telling them that something had come up and she had to go. From the looks they'd given her, it was clear they knew there was more to the story than what she was telling them. Lou had started to ask her questions about what had happened with Eden, but Sarah had held up a hand, silencing her.

"I'll tell you everything later," she'd promised the trainer. "But right now, I have to go."

She'd run for her car, afraid that by the time she reached the beach, he'd be gone. The whole way there, she kept checking to see if he'd driven away, but according to the AI, the GPS signal of Chuck's phone hadn't changed. This was a good thing, because no matter how far he'd gone, Sarah was determined to find him—and she could just envision some kind of high-speed highway chase that wound up with her having to explain herself to the cops. "You see, Officer, I just wanted to apologize… I think this man might just be the love of my life and I need to make sure he knows that—if I can catch up to him."

Yeah, that'd go over well.

She pulled into her driveway—the closest parking spot she was likely to find, mid-summer—and sprinted for the path that led between the dunes. Her sandals slapped the wooden boards as she ran. One of them caught the edge of a warped board and sent her sprawling. She landed hard on her knees, with an impact that stung—but there was no time to assess the damage. She didn't want to wait another second to tell Chuck what he meant to her; if she did, she might chicken out. Instead, she hauled herself to her feet and ran the rest of the way, skidding onto the sand and scanning the beach for a sign of him.

She saw children and families … a young couple holding hands … a girl leaning back on her elbows, reading a book … but no Chuck. Just when she was about to panic, she caught sight of him, sitting at the edge of the water, wearing the same clothes he'd had on yesterday. As if her presence had summoned him, he stood and straightened, then turned, as if about to leave.

There was only one way on or off this stretch of beach—the boardwalk by which Sarah stood. This was it—the do-or-die moment.

"Chuck," she called, then louder: "Chuck!"

He heard her, all right; his head swiveled, searching for the source of the sound. Then his gaze settled on her, and his eyes widened. Was he shocked? Horrified? Both? She couldn't tell.

Summoning every bit of courage she possessed, she walked toward him. The sun slanted into her eyes, blinding her, so she couldn't tell whether or not he was happy she was here—or whether he'd never wanted to see her again. Hoping it was the former, she took one step forward, then another, until finally she was in front of him. Heart beating in triple-time, she looked up into his eyes.

They spoke at the same time.

"Chuck, I need to—"

"Sarah, what happened—"

Both of them trailed off, and Sarah cleared her throat. "Go ahead."

"I was just going to ask what happened to you." He gestured at her, looking troubled.

"What happened to me? What do you mean?" Did the emotional rollercoaster she'd been on this morning somehow show on her face—like some kind of inverse of Dorian Gray?

"Your knees." He pointed, and when Sarah glanced down, she saw that she was bleeding. Apparently her spill on the boardwalk had been more serious than she'd realized.

"Nothing," she said, brushing it off. "At least, nothing that matters right now. Listen, Chuck, I owe you a huge apology. What I said yesterday, about Bryce—I was completely wrong for comparing the two of you. You're nothing like him. I've known that from the moment I met you. It was the most offensive thing I could've possibly said and I am so, so sorry."

He shook his head. "You don't need to apologize, Sarah. I understand why you said it. I wanted so much to help you that I never stopped to ask myself whether you'd agree with what I thought was best. Yeah, I was trying to do something nice, but I ran all over your feelings and your right to choose. That was inexcusable. I don't blame you for being angry with me."

This was just like Chuck—taking on the responsibility for something that was in no way his fault. "No." She took a step back, so she could see him more clearly. "I mean, yeah, what you did was grounded in a bunch of assumptions—namely, that I would like to have substantial funding for my research, for a five-year period. Moreover, that I would like to have control over those funds, so no one else could tell me how they ought to be spent. You selfish, chauvinistic pig. How dare you?"

He shifted his weight, the way she noticed he did when he was nervous. "I take it you got the letter from the accountant, then."

"This morning." She lifted a hand to shade her eyes. "I can't believe you did that, Chuck—made me the sole trustee of the Foundation. Hell, I can't believe you set up a whole foundation, just for me. You've only known me two weeks. Why would you make that kind of investment?"

"Because." The conviction in his voice was unmistakable. "I believe in you, Sarah—in your research, sure, but beyond that, in who you are. It made me sick to think that Bryce was trying to manipulate his way back into your life, just because you needed his money. And yeah, I've worked hard for what I have—but nothing would please me more than investing in a project that I think is beyond worthwhile—that has the capability of changing how human beings see each other … and the world around them. I didn't invest in you because I wanted to control you. I invested in you because I wanted to set you free."

A pause followed his pronouncement, during which Sarah stared at him, dumbfounded. No one, other than her mother, had ever expressed such faith in her. It was empowering—and devastating at the same time, because she'd so clearly let him down.

"I see that now," she said, glancing at the sun sparkling on the waves. Suddenly, meeting his eyes—which always seemed to see too much—felt overwhelming. "And I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again. But I just—there's something I need to tell you."

She chanced a look at his face. He was looking straight back at her, his eyebrows lowered in puzzlement, his dark eyes fixed on hers.

"Chuck," she said slowly, wanting to make sure she found the right words, "no one has ever been as kind to me as you are. Other than my mother, no one has ever been so supportive. Two weeks ago, I didn't know who you were—and then you came into my life, and you changed everything. You figured out how to take my research to the next level. You spent your vacation investing an incredible amount of time and money in something that you didn't know would ever pay off. You did nothing but treat me with kindness, respect, and generosity, and what did I do? I threw all of that back in your face."

His puzzlement morphed into distress. "Sarah—"

"No, let me finish. I don't know how much money you have, Chuck, and I don't need to know. But what I do know is how much it costs to fully fund my research for one year, let alone five. I know that, because I've spent countless hours piecing grant proposals together and giving Diane the fodder she needs to approach donors. So I know—without a doubt—how much you'd be investing in me through Sedna. And even if you're rich as Croesus, it's still not chump change. To do all that—and then to give me control over how the funds are spent—it's an unimaginable gift. And after yesterday, I don't think I deserve it."

She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "It's no excuse, but why I said what I did—when I was growing up, my parents always fought over money. There should have been enough of it, but there never was, because my father kept spending it—and then lying about it, so that my mom would go to pay the bills and find out there was nothing in the bank. She couldn't trust him to tell the truth, and it destroyed their marriage. Then, when I met Bryce, I thought I'd found someone who was my father's total opposite; he was a trust fund baby, so money wasn't an issue, and he promised me he'd always be upfront—always honest. But you know how that turned out." She shrugged, running a fingertip beneath her eyes to prevent the tears from falling. "When he came here, with his lines about wanting me back, I knew he had an ulterior motive—but I never imagined he would stoop this low. But there he was, wanting to use his money to control me, so he could have what he always wanted—prestige and power, no matter who he hurt to get it."

She straightened, letting him see the misery on her face. "Bryce and my father were the two most influential relationships I'd had with men—and both of them let me down. Then you came along, and you seemed too good to be true. I wanted more than anything to believe in you—that you were everything you seemed to be. I let myself trust you. And then when I thought you'd lied to me—that you used money to manipulate my affections—I just … blew up."

He opened his mouth, but she held up a finger, asking him to wait. "I'm almost done, I promise. Then you can tell me to piss off, if you want. But I need you to know—I had no right at all to say what I did. I see that now. And again, it's no excuse for the way I behaved—but I overreacted like that because …" She bit her lip, steeling herself. Once she said this, there was no going back—but if she wanted him to be honest with her, then she had to return the favor. "I overreacted because I'd fallen in love with you," she said, her voice as clear and firm as she could make it. "Chuck, I love you. And I understand if you don't feel the same way—if you never want to speak to me again. But … but I'm a scientist, and I just thought you should have all the data before you make a dec—"

She never got a chance to finish her sentence. His arms came around her, holding her tight, and then his lips were on hers and he was kissing her with all the desperation of someone who'd never thought he'd get a chance to do this again. She reached up, twining her fingers in his curls; they were dusted with sand, sun-warm under her fingertips. He tasted like the ocean, like salt and hope and home.

When he broke the kiss, both of them were breathing hard. She looked up at him and realized that tears streaked his cheeks; maybe the salt she'd tasted hadn't been entirely due to their proximity to the sea. Carefully, she reached up to brush his tears away.

He caught her hand and held it. "Can I talk now?"

Sniffling, she nodded. "Go ahead."

"Well," he said, smiling down at her—that beautiful, genuine smile she'd worried she might never see again—"first of all, I feel like it should go without saying, but—I love you, too. I fell for you sometime after you made that Star Wars joke and before you started smashing me in the Constellation-Naming Game. So there's a handy little data point for you; apparently the way to my heart is through cheesy wordplay." His eyebrows rose in self-mockery, but when he spoke, he sounded perfectly sincere. "I've never known anyone like you, Sarah. If I could imagine the perfect woman for me, it would be you."

The smile faded, though he didn't let go of her hand. "Yeah, you might not have been on your best behavior yesterday, but I can't let you take all the blame. Whether or not I meant well, I still kept something important from you—something I knew you wanted to know—and as my sister is fond of saying, healthy relationships aren't built on secrets. I guess there's still a part of me that doesn't really believe you want to be with me for me. That I'm not … not enough to keep you interested."

She opened her mouth to protest, but this time he was the one to hold up his free hand, asking her to wait.

"I've had plenty of time to think about this"—he gestured around him, at the spot where he'd been sitting—"and I think on some subconscious level, I started Sedna so I'd still have a chance to be a part of your life. I knew you didn't want to work with Bryce—but without him, what if your funding fell apart, and then you didn't need me anymore? At least if I underwrote your project, then I knew there would still be a project for me to help you with."

His eyes had fallen from hers as he'd spoken, as if he was too embarrassed to hold her gaze. Gently, she lifted his chin.

"Are you saying that you think I only wanted to spend time with you because of what you can bring to my research?" She let the full measure of her incredulity show in her voice.

"I know it's stupid." He looked abashed. "But just like you have your history, I have mine."

"And Jill didn't want anything to do with you because you didn't have enough money for her." The last piece of the puzzle fell into place in Sarah's mind, and now she didn't only feel like an ass—she felt like an insensitive ass. "Chuck, I promise that's not it. I would want to be with you no matter what—if you were totally broke and we lived in a hovel. It's your mind I love. And that big, amazing heart."

He looked stunned, and she replayed back what she'd said—had she offended him somehow? "What?" she asked finally.

"You said we," he said, his voice hushed. "Do you really mean that?"

A gull flew overhead, squawking, as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. "Do I mean…"

"Before, you asked me if I would move here." He was talking faster and faster, as if he was afraid she'd shoot him down before he could finish what he meant to say. "Are you—that is, do you—would you still—"

"Yes!" she said, more loudly than she'd intended. The gull, which had settled at their feet to forage for nonexistent crumbs, looked up at her in startlement and then flew off, landing a few feet away in search of better prospects. "Yes to whatever you're asking. Yes, I still want to be with you. Yes, I would love it if you moved here. Yes, the thought of you living hours away in Cupertino fills me with dread. Yes, I want you to stay with me—in our home."

His smile was back, bigger than ever. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Although"—she scuffed her feet in the sand—"I'm pretty sure your sister hates me now, so holidays might be a little awkward."

"Ellie? What do you mean?"

"She was worried about you, Chuck. When you didn't come home, she freaked out—and then she drove to the Aquarium, thinking maybe you were with me. I told her what happened and she … well, to say she wasn't happy with me would be the understatement of the year." She dug her toes in deeper, trying to anchor herself against the look of rage and betrayal on Ellie's face as she'd stormed away.

"Ah, that's just Ellie, doing the whole big sister thing. When she heard what I'd done with the Foundation—how I'd created it to fund your project without telling you—she wasn't too happy with me, either. She just—she's pretty protective of me." He squeezed her hand. "She'll come around, I promise."

"I hope so." Sarah sounded as forlorn as she felt.

"She will. I'll make sure of it."

"So … we're okay?" Sarah said, unable to keep the hopeful note from her voice.

"Definitely." He pulled her close, resting his chin on top of her head.

She leaned against him, listening to his heart beat. "And you're staying? For real?"

"Well, I'll have to go back to Cupertino to get my things, and rent out my apartment—but if you're serious about wanting me here … then yeah, Sarah. I can't think of anything I'd want more."

"I'm serious. I'm definitely, definitely serious," she said in response, and felt as well as heard him laugh.

"Wow," he said, stroking her hair. "I have to say, while I was busy having my pity party all night, this is not how I thought things were going to turn out."

When she'd gotten to the beach and seen him there, she'd been so relieved—and so panicked that he wouldn't listen to what she had to say—that she hadn't thought through what his next step might be. Now that they'd worked everything out—or, at least, she hoped they had—she found herself curious. "When I got here," she said, reveling in the tingling sensation his fingers left behind, "you'd just stood up. Where were you going?"

She felt him sigh. "Back to Ellie's, to pack my stuff. Then home, to Cupertino."

"You weren't going to even try to win me back?" She let a hint of playfulness creep into her voice.

"You asked me to leave, Sarah. I felt like I'd disrespected your wishes enough. I wasn't about to do it again by showing up on your doorstep. Plus"—she felt a vibration of amusement move through him—"I may not have much pride, but I do have a little."

At the thought of Chuck sitting on the beach all night by himself after she'd kicked him out, Sarah felt worse than ever. "God," she said, "I'm so sorry. I'm a terrible person. I'm a—"

"You're not." His voice was emphatic. "We both made mistakes, Sarah. Let's put them behind us and start over. I'll agree not to keep tearing myself down if you do. Deal?"

She pondered this for a second, then stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. "When you put it that way, how can I resist?"

"Mmm." His hand slid downward, cupping the back of her neck. "I was hoping you'd say that."

She wanted nothing more than to keep kissing him—more than that, to take him home with her and forget about the fact that she'd run out on Lou and Laszlo in the middle of the workday. But as tempting as that was, they had bigger issues to deal with.

"Chuck," she said, taking a step back so she could look up at him, "what were you trying to tell me yesterday, after you got off the phone with your lawyer? You know, before everything went to hell?"

"Oh, that." The smile was back, slow and confident this time. "I was going to tell you that I'm pretty sure how Bryce got hold of those plans. And I think we need to have a meeting."

It was her turn to look puzzled. "A meeting? With who?"

"Everyone," he said, with a cryptic grin.

"Okay, I'll play. What exactly do you have in mind?"

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. "Morgan," he told the AI, "I think it's time to show Sarah what we found."

A/N: Thanks for sticking with us this far! We've almost reached the end of THE HEART OF EDEN—just one more chapter and an epilogue to go. Still, we've got some thorny issues to resolve—how did Bryce get his hands on those plans? What will happen to our evil overlord, now that his schemes have been revealed? Will Ellie forgive Sarah? And will Lou ever give Laszlo a second glance? Stay tuned to find out.

As always, thanks for reading—and please keep your reviews, follows, and favorites coming our way! They really do make this all worthwhile.