It had been two weeks since Cristina had promised that they would have a bonfire on the beach. Owen held her to that promise and suggested that they also camp out on the beach, since he hadn't done that in a while. She agreed and he kept reminding her about it. She listened to the weather reports and made sure that the night they chose to camp on the beach would be a clear night. She announced to him that tonight was the night. He was very excited.

Joyce and Cristina had set up everything beforehand. Cristina had gathered the dry driftwood and put them together in a pile. Then, she and Joyce put up the tent and put in the sleeping bags. In reality, camping on the beach wasn't going to be hard because the house was right there and they could always run back and get anything that they needed. Joyce had bought them all of the supplies that they would need, including marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers. In addition to the big bonfire, they had also put together a smaller campfire next to the tent, so they could do the s'mores.

Joyce was worried about Mr. Hunt. He hadn't done this, since before he lost his sight. But she could see he was game for it and it helped that the presence of the young woman probably was making a better experience for him. He seemed so happy, she thought.

At around 9 p.m., Cristina and Owen went down to the beach to spend the night. She got the bonfire going and she told him that it really lit up the night sky.

"The moon is out tonight," she said, switching off the flashlight she had brought down with them. She got the smaller campfire going, so they could roast the marshmallows. She handed him one on a stick and guided his hand to the fire. "Keep your hand at that distance," she told him. "We don't want you getting burned."

"How do you know how to do all of this?" he asked.

"Years of being in Girl Scouts," she said. "I have all of the badges plus I always sold the most cookies in my troop. I was very competitive."

"Oh, I would have bought cookies from you," he said. She laughed. "Yes, you would have. I would have compelled you to take at least five boxes. I had the saddest little face, ever. It was so sad that it looked like if you didn't buy the cookies, I would burst into tears at any moment. But it was all an act."

"Aw, I would have liked to see that," he said, laughing at the thought.

"Your marshmallow is done," she said. "Be careful, it is still on fire." She blew out the fire and removed the blackened parts of it. "Let it cool for a bit, you don't want to burn your tongue," she said, as she watched him gingerly take a bite out of it.

"Haven't done that in ages," he said, as he ate the marshmallow. "Can we start the s'mores now?"

"Sure," she said, as she quickly got to work. "By the way, Joyce sent down two large thermoses of coffee. Do you want some?"

"Yes," he said. She poured out the coffee into a thermos cap and handed him to him. "Hot and sweet. It should warm you up." He took a grateful sip. "So tell me more about yourself," he said. "We've been so busy with work. We barely talk about ourselves."

"Oh, there is not much to tell," she said, shyly. "Maybe you can tell me more about yourself and your childhood."

"Okay, but if I talk about me, you have to talk about yourself," he said. "Deal?"

"Deal!" she agreed. "But my life is probably more boring than yours."

"I am an orphan," he said. "I had a pretty ordinary life until my parents died when I was 16 years old in a plane crash. I am an only child and so were my parents and there wasn't any family to take me, when they died, so I ended up in the state system for two years. I didn't mind it too much because it was there I started writing. I didn't want to be fostered because at 16, I was practically grown up. One thing, though, my parents had ensured that I could go to college and I went to Yale. At Yale, I honed my writing skills and by the time I graduated at 22, I already had my first novel done. I shopped it around to all of the big publishing houses. I got rejected until Meteor decided to give me a shot and the rest is history. That was the start of super secret spy Alex Newland and the entire series of books."

"Yay," Cristina said. "Is this why you made Alex an orphan? Because of your own experience?"

"Yeah, I didn't want him to have any ties to anybody – any emotional baggage that could tie him down," Owen said. "If he loved someone, then they could threaten that person to have leverage on him."

"Oh," Cristina said. "But that's not you, right? You're not Alex. Surely you must love someone."

"I mean I don't have any family to speak of, just like Alex. I have had girlfriends in the past and I am pretty sure I have cared for them. I certainly do have a fondness for Joyce. She is a peach. Also, Phyllis Dolan is a great friend, even though she can be a pain sometimes but she has always had my back at the publishing company. And you, even though we've only known each other two weeks, I sense in you a kindred spirit. We are friends, aren't we?" he asked.

"Yes, most certainly, Owen, we are definitely friends," she said. She reached out and squeezed his hand. He smiled. "So what about you? Don't think I've forgotten your end of the bargain," he said.

"My life is so boring," she said. "I grew up in Westchester in New York. Pretty normal childhood in a suburban town. My dad was a lawyer but he died of cancer, when I was about 18. He left us really well cared for, so we would never want. I went to school at Vassar and then to NYU. Then, I got the job at Meteor and here I am."

"So you're half an orphan," he said.

"Yeah, I am," she said. "But my mom is great. She has gone beyond the call of duty for me."

"So no boyfriend?" he asked. There was a reason he was asking this question. He wanted to know. Scratch that, he needed to know.

"Well, I had one serious relationship when I was in college. His name was Marcus. We were together for the four years of college and we were going to get married but he died just before graduation in a car accident," she said, a little wistfully.

"I am so sorry," he said. "I didn't want to bring up bad memories."

"Oh, no, they are not bad memories," she answered. "Most of my memories that I have of Marcus are really good ones. He was a great guy. I am just sorry that he died. He had so much potential. And I did love him."

"So since then, no one?" Owen asked. He was impatient to find out her current relationship status.

"No, I am just too busy these days," she said. "Lots of obligations keep me busy because I also have a s-." Her train of thought was interrupted because the chocolate started to run down her fingers. "Ooh, I have chocolate everywhere. This s'more is definitely ready. " She handed it to him. "Try this." He bit into the s'more and reveled in the sweetness of the chocolate and the marshmallow.

"It is good," he said. "I think you are an amazing girl scout."

"Thanks," she said. She bit in the s'more she had made for herself. "Ooh, that is good." Together, they sat in amiable silence before she spoke. "It is a beautiful night, Owen. The moon is big and bright and it looks like all of the stars are out. Nice when there is no smog blocking the stars like what happens in the city."

"I remember what they looked like. It was wonderful," he said. They were again silent for a bit before he asked. "Cristina, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you would allow me to touch your face so I can figure out what you look like," he said. "But only if it is okay with you."

"Yes, it is okay," she said. She came to him and placed his hands on her face. He touched her cheek and caressed the shape of her lips. "You have full lips," he said. He marveled at the smoothness of her skin. Joyce had told him that she had flawless skin.

"I do," she replied. As his fingers moved upwards, she closed her eyes, so he could feel her lids and her brows. "I think you must have very expressive eyebrows," he said. She laughed. Then, he reached her hair and ran his fingers through her thick, luxurious curls.

"Your hair feels great," he said. "You do have lots of curls."

"Yeah, I told you," she said. "I definitely wasn't lying about that." He again put his hands on her face, cupping the sides of it. "I think you're beautiful," he said. She was glad that he could not see her face because she was blushing so hard. She was certain her face was a bright red.

"Thank you," she said. He removed his hands from her face. There was an awkward silence after, before Cristina told him that they better turn in for the night. They got into the tent, as they each crawled into their sleeping bags. "Good night, Cristina," Owen said. "Good night, Owen," she replied. The sound of the waves soon lulled them to sleep.

Owen woke up, a little disoriented. The sound of the waves and the seagulls sounded so much closer than they normally would, when he heard them from his bedroom. Then, he remembered. They had spent the night on the beach. "Cristina," he called out. There was some movement outside of the tent, he knew. She stuck in her head. "Hey, you're up. Great. I will just take you back to the house, so you can freshen up and we can have breakfast. Joyce is already working on that. I have cleared up everything out here, so it is just your sleeping bag and the tent to be dismantled."

"Well, it seems you've been a busy bee," he said. He got himself out of the sleeping bag and she helped him up. "Take my hand," she said and they walked back to the house.

She led him into the kitchen, where Joyce was busy preparing breakfast. "Okay, so you're good here," she said. "I am just going back down to roll up your sleeping bag and to dismantle the tent."

"Yes," Owen said. The door shut behind her as Cristina left. Joyce came to him and handed him his cane, so he could find his way to his bedroom.

"So did you have a good time, Mr. Hunt?" Joyce asked, with a knowing smile on her face.

"Yes, it was a lovely night. Cristina just makes everything better," he said.

"She does?" Joyce replied. "Yes, she certainly does," Owen said, emphatically, as he left the kitchen to go to his room and freshen up. He really needed to brush his teeth and take a shower before he came back down for breakfast.

Joyce watched Cristina efficiently dismantling the tent on the beach. Her presence in the house had certainly lightened the atmosphere, especially lifting the spirits of its owner. He was not as morose and bitter as he used to be. It was certainly a good thing. Most definitely a very good thing.

A/N Please leave your thoughts and comments. I do appreciate when you take the time to do so.