“Enlightening.”
I snort and focus on my food, because it’s a lot easier than thinking about how fun it is to banter with Miles.
“I do regret breaking up with you, Abby.”
I lift my eyes to his, and it nearly breaks my heart to see how earnest he is.
“It is my life’s regret. I try so hard not to think about the past because it haunts me. Between you and my injury, I am tormented by what could have been.”
Oh.
My breath catches in my throat.
It wasn’t just me.
“But you said…you said you were more successful without me. You?—”
“I stand by what I said. I do think it was for the best we broke upandI wish I had never missed out on so many years with you. Both things can be true. And they are.”
Miles is right. Two things can be true at the same time; I’ve just never been good at holding two truths. They always feel too heavy, and I’m only ever strong enough to hold one at a time. That he can hold both is impressive and only shows how much he’s matured over time.
“I didn’t… I didn’t say this yesterday, but I went to a really dark place after my injury. Even if we’d stayed together the first couple years, I was not myself for a long time. I pushed everyone away. All my friends, my family. I would have hurt you. Even more than I did when I ended things. I was a wounded animal. I lashed out at everyone. I had to make an apology tour when I was in a better headspace. There are a lot of years that I wish you’d been by my side, but not those ones. You were better off without me, I promise.”
Whatever anger or resentment I had been holding onto is gone. Drained out of me by his words, his vulnerability, and the understanding of how a person might carry regret and the certainty of a decision.
There’s still a bit of flour on his face from where he tapped his head earlier. I reach out, dusting it off of his temple with a brush of my finger. His eyes close at my touch, his brows knitting together. A sharp, relieved sigh escapes him, and it makes myinsides sing. When he opens his eyes again, they land on mine. A few seconds of unspoken communication pass. Our bodies were always better at communicating than we were.
“Say something, Abby.”
“I shouldn’t have stormed off last night. That wasn’t very…mature of me. You’ve proven that you can be an adult, and I keep acting like a child. Running away from you at any given chance. I should have communicated what I was feeling last night and let you say all of this then. Thank you for explaining and thank you for indulging my curiosity.”
“Does that mean you’re going to stop running away from me?” he asks, a smile creeping in at the edges of his words.
“No promises,” I say, and goddamnit if I’m not smiling too.
7
MILES
I’m about ten years too old to be at this beach party right now, although there are people here twice my age and everywhere in between. I only came because Carlos invited me and because I didn’t have to leave the resort to attend. He said he was DJing, and I said I’d come support him. But I’ve been here an hour already and the man hasn’t started his set yet. It might not be a work night, but I’m no night owl, and it’s pushing nine o’clock. I’ll give him another hour and then I’m out.
There’s enough going on to keep me occupied: a seafood buffet complete with a salad bar, and more side dishes than my stomach can hold. Two tiki bars with specialty drinks are set up at each end of the stretch of beach hosting this party, both busy with people lubricating for a night of dancing.
There’s a dance floor set up in the middle of it all. String lights, strobe lights, colored lights. The beach is awash in purples and bright blues, dotted with tiki torches to help light the walking paths designated for the partygoers. Scattered around are high-top tables for people to socialize, eat, and drink. Supposedly there’s entertainment planned for the evening, but right now, people are simply eating and drinking and warming up for the rest of the night.
I’m just hoping to spot a familiar face. Destiny said she might swing by, but I’m holding out hope that Abby will show up.
After the pasta class earlier today, we went our separate ways, and for the first time in three days, she didn’t rush away from me in tears. It was an amicable parting, and if it was the last time we’d ever see each other, there would probably be a lot of peace for her.
There will be no peace for me as long as Abby Ashe is here. Hell, I don’t think it will be any better once she leaves. I’d forgotten what it was like to just be around her. In those brief flashes of conversation where she forgot to be mad at me and she would tease me, joke with me, I remembered. I remembered the way she and I could flow between serious and silly and intimate with ease. Being with Abby again is as comfortable as it was all those years ago, like putting on an old denim jacket. Even being vulnerable with her was easier than I thought it would be.
I wasn’t good at that in college. I couldn’t even tell her I loved her. She knew I did; she knew how I felt. I tried to show her in all the ways I couldn’t say it. She understood. This is one of the things that makes Abby beautiful—it isn’t just her ocean-blue eyes and the way they sparkle when she laughs; it’s her patience.
Even giving me the time of day to explain myself last night shows that she hasn’t changed in all the ways that really matter. She is as patient with me as she was in college.
By the time I met Abby in our junior year, I was two years removed from my parents’ divorce and my dad was living his new life. The scandal in our small town had finally died down, but I had a shattered heart and a bitter view of love.
As strongly as I felt for Abby, I could never say the words she needed to hear because I was so jaded by the callous way my own father had treated the woman he claimed to love for decades.
