"Will you take my hand?"I don't know why Sean asks. My hand has been his for a year, and I've never refused him, but our relationship should be at the point where he just reaches for me.I certainly won't mind; his warmth is something I crave, something I can't live without.Smiling, I extend my hand toward his open palm and slide my fingers between his. He tugs me closer and we walk down the white-sand beach, united.A warm, ocean breeze blows in my face, making my skin sticky and my hair a matted mess, but I’m not complaining. Sean never has either....