Pacey slammed the logbook on his desk shut and sat back, rubbing his eyes quickly with the palms of his hands. Blinking them open, he glanced out at the fading colors of the sunset that reflected off the ocean surface just outside his window. In the far distance, across the harbor, he could see the tiny dots of light from the Boston skyline beginning to appear on the horizon. He smiled to himself, remembering how that city once loomed over him in a different way - foreboding and ominous, a symbolic end of the road. He never imagined that it would actually turn out to be the place where his life really began. And, that - instead of losing the love of his life to that city - he would actually find her there.

He pushed his chair away from his desk and stood up, pulling on his coat. As he stepped outside into the cold late winter afternoon, he turned his collar up against the harsh wind that was blowing in off the water. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted Skip Goodwin making his way up the swaying wooden ramp that led down to the boat dock, clapping his hands together for warmth.

“Hey, Skip. Time to call it a day, wouldn’t you say?”

The young man’s smile spread across his face. “I’d have to agree with you there, boss. What do ya say to grabbin’ a beer at the Harbor Light?”

Pacey grinned and shook his head. “Not tonight, thanks.” He leaned over the edge of the dock railing to survey the tarp-covered sailboats lined up in the boatyard below him for a moment. “I have a guy coming to take a look at the Grady White tomorrow.”

Skip nodded in acknowledgement. “Yep. She’s all set to go. I finished her up this morning.” He leaned on the rail next to him, and they both looked out at the white caps dancing over the dark water. Skip looked over at Pacey’s face and raised his eyebrows. “You wishing you were out there right now ?”

Pacey smiled thoughtfully as he pushed away from the railing. “Actually, no. I was wishing I was home right about now.” They fell in step next to each other as they made their way out of the marina.

Skip nodded and grinned slyly at him. “Yeah. I probably wouldn’t be able to wait to get home either, if I had a girlfriend like that waiting for me there.”

Pacey chuckled, patting him on the shoulder as they parted. “Hey, if I can get a girl like that, Skip - well, then there’s hope for anyone.”

The seagulls floated over the almost deserted parking lot as Pacey made his way to his truck. As he fumbled for his keys, he ran his fingers over the new paint on the door. “Northeast Charters. Sales. Service. Storage.” He smiled at the small sailboat symbol, the same symbol embroidered on the chest of the heavy blue sweatshirt he was wearing under his coat. Who would have ever thought that he, Pacey Witter, would run his own boat chartering business – let alone the most successful charter business on the New England coast? Of course, credit would really go to old Bud Harrington for that one. He may have not been the first person to really believe in Pacey, but he was certainly the first to actually put his money on him.

He knew that he was taking a yet another gamble with his life the day he sailed away on Harrington’s boat. He just never realized what the pay-off was going to be. He had been working as a prep cook at Civilization that winter, but as spring approached he knew he had to get back to the sea. A couple of phone calls later he was signed up to work the summer for Bud, a Boston business tycoon who was a member of the Dean’s yacht club. Of course, since nothing in his life could ever go smoothly, Pacey had to pick then to go and end up falling in love again as well. He had been torn for several weeks between the commitment he had already made to Bud and the commitment he wanted to make to her. Knowing this, she simply sat him down one day and told him that she knew he needed to go and he needed to know that she would be waiting. So, he went. He thinks that they both understood that this would be a kind of a “test”, but whether he was testing himself or testing her, he could not say. After all, believing in her had always been about believing in himself.

He spent those months working and sailing during the day and at night - when the rest of the crew would go off into town in search of cheap booze and women – he’d sit on the upper deck with Bud and talk about their mutual love of boats and the sea. Bud would ask him about his plans for the future and entertain him with stories of his past. Bud was a self-made millionaire who not only had never gone to college but had actually dropped out of the tenth grade. Pacey had never been so impressed and so encouraged by any one person. His talks with Bud made the time away from her pass a little more quickly, and he formed a bond with this old man that he never knew would end up changing his life at the end of that summer.

Actually, two things happened to change his life at the end of that summer. One, when he sailed back into Boston harbor, she was there waiting for him as promised. Waiting for him to tell him that she loved him and wanted to be with him and needed to know if he felt the same. Two, Bud Harrington asked him if he’d be interested in running a boat chartering business he was thinking of starting up. Pacey – of course – said yes to them both.

Pacey had never worked as hard at anything in his life as he did this business. (Well, all right, he thought to himself, he had to admit that he’d worked pretty hard at the girl, too.) He now had a dozen people working under him and a fleet of charter boats. And, when it all got too crazy, he’d take one of his boats and just disappear with her for a couple of days. Sail off into the sunset.

He pulled his truck into the first available parking spot he found downtown. People were bustling about on this early Friday evening, music and lights spilling out from the doors of the local bars and restaurants. This place reminded him of home with its quaint nautical scenery and art galleries and influx of summer tourists, but it had a little more of a cosmopolitan edge to it, being so much closer to the city. It was not quite Capeside, but not quite Boston, either - kind of a nice middle ground between the two. Pacey stamped the winter slush off his work boots and pushed through the heavy wooden doors at Maggio’s, the local pizzeria.

“Hey. You’re late tonight!” The little Italian man called out from behind the counter. “And, where’s your girl?”

Pacey shrugged and grinned. “Yeah, I was working late. She’s waiting for me at home. I’ll have the usual. To go.”

The man mock-scowled and shook his finger at him. “There’s more important things in life than work, you know. You shouldn’t keep a beautiful girl like that waiting for you!”

Pacey smiled and nodded. “Believe me - I don’t intend to.” He said quietly.

When his pizza was ready, Pacey climbed back into the truck and had only made it halfway down Main Street before he got held up at the railroad crossing. Watching the train clatter across the tracks in front of him, he remembered her kiss as he dropped her off at the station that morning. She had been resting against his shoulder as he drove, sipping the coffee he had bought her out of the Styrofoam cup she held in her mittens and humming contentedly along with the radio. She brushed her hair out of her eyes to smile up at him and press a kiss against his cheek.

“Play hooky with me today?” Her voice was soft and teasing in his ear, sweet but slightly seductive.

“Not today – don’t try that with me.” He chuckled knowingly and shook his head, trying to will his body not to react to her and failing miserably. “You are a very bad girl. You already missed one train this morning because you attacked me in the shower. This is the last one that will get you into Boston and to your classes on time and you’re getting on it, missy. I’m not going to let you start slacking off in your last semester.”

She pouted at him and he shook his head again. “No means no.” He growled softly against her lips as she went to kiss him good-bye and let her hand deliberately drift up his thigh over his jeans. She sighed and finally moved away. He smiled to himself as he watched her climb out of the truck and walk towards the train, carefully balancing her hot coffee as she threw her book bag over her shoulder. She turned and waved a mittened hand as she walked up the ramp, mouthing the words “I love you” before the train doors closed behind her. He had sat there for a long moment, watching the train pull out. She was in the process of getting her Master’s degree at Boston University. When Pacey had to move out of Boston to be closer to the marina and his office, he had chosen a little house near the beach because he knew she would be able to walk to the commuter rail train station from there if she needed to. But, still, every morning he insisted on driving her. And, whenever schedules permitted, he would be there to pick her up, too. He always mumbled something about how it was “on his way” but she would just give him that little smile that said she knew better and roll her eyes playfully.

She would be graduating this May and Pacey still found endless personal amusement in the fact that she had decided to become a teacher - an English teacher, no less. He grinned again at the thought as he finally pulled into the short gravel driveway. It was finally dark now and there was a faint light coming from the back of the house, from the room Pacey had renovated into a little home office. She had probably come right home from classes and shut herself in there to finish the paper she was working on before he got home. He knew she hated to leave anything for the weekend, preferring to spend that time with him – even if that meant coming down to help him out in the boatyard on a Saturday afternoon. He came in through the side door, leaving the pizza on the kitchen counter. Shrugging off his coat, he called out to her but got no answer.

He picked up the mail and quickly glanced through it. He noticed a Pottery Barn catalogue with pages already tabbed and grinned, knowing she would be sitting him down later to get his opinions on whatever new items she had chosen for the house. And – in all honesty - Pacey could really care less about what curtains she was thinking of for the kitchen or what lamp she liked for their bedroom. But, he played along just because he liked to watch the excitement in her face as she described to him how it would all look when she was done. When he had first asked her to move in here, she had been opposed to the idea of “living off” of him. She was still a full time college student and waitressing part time to pay for whatever expenses her many loans didn’t cover, but she knew she couldn’t afford to help him with the rent on the beach house, too. Pacey had finally convinced her, noting that she spent most nights there anyway and had been living out of her overnight bag for months. She gave in with the stipulation that she would pay him back someday and help with any household expenses that she could. Pacey laughed but agreed, not wanting to admit to her that there was a part of him that was secretly thrilled to be able to support her in this way. The first few months she had still treated the situation as if she was a guest living in his house, but to his relief, she had finally warmed up to the idea that this was “their” place.

He walked into the living room, where the bay windows looked out over the picturesque rocky beach across the street and to the wide open ocean beyond that. He stopped short and smiled to himself though, at the scene that lay before him now in the house. She sat at the desk, one leg curled under her and her head resting on her arm next to the keyboard of her laptop. Her mouth was slightly open and she was snoring ever so softly. He watched her for a moment, then walked over to her and crouched down until he was eye level with her. Brushing the hair out of her eyes with one hand, he gently shook her awake.

“Hey.” He smiled at her, his warm blue eyes shining in amusement and love.

She squinted at him in confusion, as if she didn’t know where she was. Sitting up, she stretched and yawned. “I must have fallen asleep.” Like a drowsy child, she let herself fall against him, knowing that would catch her in his arms. He chuckled softly, wrapping himself around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I was waiting for you.” She sighed.

“Yeah. I remember.” Pacey mumbled, his chin resting on her head. She pulled back to meet his eyes, but before she could speak he caught her up in a kiss. He grasped the back of her hair with one hand, pulling her back into him and sighing as his tongue sought out the warmth of her mouth. When he ran his other hand up her body, his thumb barely brushing over her breast, he heard her catch her breath and then let it out in a soft moan. Pacey stood up then, wrapping his arms tighter around her, lifting her with him. He turned her, guiding her with his body, and began walking through the doorway back into the living room, backing her up to the overstuffed sofa. Pushing her down gently onto the cushions, he lowered himself on top of her and held himself up on his forearms, careful not to rest his full weight on her. They continued the kiss, and she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly when he dragged his lips from her mouth and made his way down her neck. Suddenly feeling a loss of contact, she blinked open her eyes to find him watching her, his eyes now a serious dark blue-gray. She ran her hand along his cheek, tracing his scar there with one finger, once again marveling at how the color of his eyes could change to match his moods or even the weather. A light sky blue on a sunny summer day, a bright cobalt blue when he was teasing her, a storm-cloudy grayish green color on a rainy day or if he was troubled. She had every color, every hue memorized.

“What?” She whispered and smiled that crooked little half-smile that still melted his heart after all these years. He chuckled, almost to himself, and dropped his head slightly before raising it to meet her eyes again. “I was just thinking today about how we’ve spent almost half our lives waiting for each other in one way or another.” He began slowly, raising his hand to brush another piece of hair out of her eyes. “Me waiting for you to finally succumb to my charming personality and devastating good looks…” She rolled her eyes and adjusted herself underneath him, getting comfortable. “You waiting for me to get my act together. Both of us waiting for the other to be the first to finally admit what was going on between us again.” They smiled at each other at the memory as he continued. “Even these past couple of years, with me wanting to wait to get the business going and you wanting to wait to get your degree.” He looked at her and she almost lost herself in the deep blue pools of his eyes for a moment, trying to understand what he was saying. “And… I don’t want to wait anymore.” He finished as he took a deep breath, moving back to reach into his pocket for the ring he had been carrying with him for weeks.

“Marry me, Jo.”