My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 59 Coastline

NOVA POV

The ride home was silent, a heavy kind of silence.

Grant’s knuckles were white around the steering wheel, his profile caught in flashes of streetlight. The air in the car was thick with everything we hadn’t said.

I sat there, exhausted, watching his reflection flicker across the glass. The silence between us was heavy, like grief.

"You’ve not said a single word," he said finally, his voice deep but quieter than usual, almost uncertain.

I swallowed hard. "Nothing to say."

He exhaled slowly, the kind that sounded more like defeat than breath.

"I’m sorry for how things turned out."

I turned to him so fast my neck ached.

Grant Calloway apologizing?

The same man who could burn a bridge and stand on the ashes with pride? I had to look, just to make sure it wasn’t a ghost driving.

"Thanks," I muttered, soft. Because I didn’t have the energy for more.

All I wanted was a hot shower, something edible, and sleep, long, merciful sleep that didn’t come with nightmares or icy ladies with Italian accents.

"Where to?" I asked when I noticed the turn we took. This wasn’t the way to my hostel. Or his estate. The roads were empty now, quiet, the headlights slicing through the darkness like blades.

"It’s a surprise," he said.

I wanted to argue. To say I was too tired for surprises.

But I just sighed, rolled my eyes, and murmured, "Okay."

Then I leaned my head against the window and let the hum of the car lull me to sleep.

••When I woke up, the world was rocking.

Literally.

For a moment, panic clawed through me. The sheets beneath me were too soft. The air smelled like salt and roses. And oh, God — I was naked.

I clutched the silk sheet to my chest and looked around the Beige and gold room, looking subtle, expensive and romantic. It looked like something out of a movie scene right before the happy ending.

A robe hung neatly nearby,I tied it around myself and stumbled toward the door, still trying to steady the pulse pounding in my throat.

Then I stepped out—

and froze.

The night air was warm against my face. The deck stretched out before me, shimmering with hundreds of rose petals. The ocean glowed silver under the moonlight, endless and calm.

A yacht.

He’d brought me to a damn yacht.

The rose petals led me forward, winding into words written across the polished wood in bright red roses:

I AM SORRY.

My throat tightened instantly and tears pricked my eyes before I even saw him.

Grant stood at the far end of the deck, no tuxedo or any of his usual arrogance, he was dressed casually in a soft linen shirt and bare feet. His hair was tousled by the sea breeze, his eyes locked on me. And in his hand was a single white orchid.

"Grant..." My voice broke before his name even finished leaving my lips.

He shook his head once, his tone low, steady.

"No. Let me do this, Nova."

He crossed the last few feet between us and—

He fucking dropped to his knees.

The sound of the quiet thud of his knees against the deck hit harder than any grand gesture ever could.

"I’m sorry for everything," he began, his voice trembling at the edges but strong at the core.

"For the way I misunderstood you even though you are the brightest ray of sunshine to ever come my way since the birth of my Lena. I’m sorry for not asking questions when all this nonsense started, and I’m sorry for not believing you even though I should have seen through the cracks and the loopholes."

His eyes flickered up to mine, raw and unguarded.

"I’m sorry that it took another man disrespecting you before me to realize you wouldn’t willingly leave me for another. I’m sorry for the names I called you... and for every time I made you cry."

The words cracked something deep in my chest. My knees felt weak.

He swallowed hard, voice rough but unwavering.

"If I could redo all this over and over again, I would—without a second thought. I’d drag myself through the mud till you’ve forgiven me and see beneath the lonely, easily attached man masquerading as pride and nonchalance. Because when it comes to you, Nymph, I’ve realized I’m very Challant—my pride is just an illusion. When it comes to you, I bare my soul."

He laughed bitterly under his breath, like even the truth hurt.

"I’ve never felt this way with anyone. I’ve messed people up before, but it never broke my heart like this. You showed me what selfless love looks like, and I’m ready to learn how to give it back. If you’ll let me... I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right."

By now my tears were falling freely, hot streaks down my cheeks, but I couldn’t stop listening. Every word hit somewhere I didn’t know I had left.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, then said softly—

"What do you want? I’m sure you’d say ’nothing,’ but I’m willing to give you everything on earth and outside of it. My life is yours to do as you please, my body and my money are yours, even if you want me to buy this planet, I’ll find a way."

A broken laugh escaped me through the tears, and he smiled, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still made my chest ache.

"I want to be the one to bring the peace and excitement you feel when you open your newest erotica hardcover book. I want to give you the stability and comfort your worn-out classics give you. I want to be your emotional support like your pen collection. I want to be everything you want and may ever want."

He paused then, voice dropping to a whisper.

"And I want you to look beneath my last fuck-ups and see the stupid man kneeling before you right now. Forgive me, Nymph. And please be my girlfriend. You deserve much more than that but bear with me for now."

Silence.

Then it was gone, because I was on my knees too. I threw myself at him, arms locking around his shoulders so tight we both lost balance. He caught me anyway. Always catching me.

Our foreheads met. His breath trembled against my cheek. I could feel his heartbeat under my palm.

"I forgive you," I whispered, voice shaking. "You stupid, impossible man... I forgive you."

He laughed through his tears, then pulled me closer until we were just a mess of apologies and relief and love that neither of us knew how to handle.

We stayed that way for what felt like forever, with the world shrinking until it was just the two of us, the moon, and the soft sound of the waves rocking against the yacht.

For the first time in a long time, peace didn’t feel impossible.

It felt like him

"Grant..." I whispered, voice trembling, throat tight with a thousand emotions I’d been holding in.

His hands lifted slowly, trembling slightly, brushing strands of hair from my face.

"Nymph," he said, voice low, raw, carrying the weight of every mistake, every apology, every unspoken moment.

"I’m sorry... for everything. Every word I shouldn’t have said, every moment I doubted you. For not seeing the cracks, for letting someone else disrespect you while I—while I—" His voice broke. "I should have been there. I should have fought for you."

I felt my chest tighten, tears forming, but I couldn’t let them fall yet. I needed him to see me. I needed him to feel me. "Grant..." My hands found his face again, cupping it as if I could hold every ounce of his guilt and pain against mine and make it ours together.

"I’m kneeling here," he continued, his hands now trembling slightly as they reached for my waist, then lower, tracing the curve of my hips with worshipful precision. "Because even after everything, I need to prove to you that I am yours, completely. My life, my body, my heart, everything I am... is yours, Nymph. And I’d crawl through fire a thousand times to make this right."

"I want to show you," he whispered, lips brushing my ear, "how much you’ve always meant to me. How much you’ve always been the center of everything I am. Tonight, it’s only about you. Only about us."

And then, without breaking the gaze we’d fought to keep, he kissed me. Soft at first, hesitant, like testing the waters of a storm we’d both survived. But I responded with everything I had, all the longing, all the frustration, all the love I’d been holding in, pouring it into him.