The kitchen was very quiet.
“It’s because I don’t loveyou.” I shouted, the words reverberating in the large kitchen. “And I never will. That’s why.”
Margaux’s face went completely still.
Then she turned and walked out the back door toward the beach.
I went after her.
She was fast. By the time I got through the garden and down to the shoreline she was already fifty feet ahead of me, moving fast along the wet sand, her robe snapping in the wind. I ran.
“Margaux.”
She didn’t stop.
“Margaux, wait.”
She stopped.
She turned around and her face was wet and I couldn’t tell if it was the ocean or crying and it didn’t matter either way.
“Just let me go,” she said. “Just leave me alone. You all hate me. You’ve hated me since I got here.”
“Nobody hates you.”
“You just said—”
“I know what I said.” I took a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for shouting at you in front of my family. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”
She looked at the water. Her arms were crossed over her chest.
“Margaux.” I waited until she looked at me. “The truth is, I don’t love you. And I have tried. I have genuinely, honestly tried. I’ve been trying since the second month. But I can’t make myself feel something that isn’t there, and the longer I stay, the more unfair it is to you. You deserve someone who doesn’t have to try. You deserve someone who just does.”
She was quiet for a long time.
“Is it her?” she said.
I didn’t answer.
I let the silence do it.
She looked at me. She nodded once, slowly, her jaw tight.
“I won’t lose,” she said. “I never lose, Fletcher. I will make sure she pays for—”
“Margaux.” My voice was calm. Completely calm. “Stop. Please stop making this about winning. My not loving you has nothing to do with her. Even if August had never existed, I don’t think I could have loved you. We are too different. We want different things. We see the world differently.” I paused. “But I know — I genuinely believe — that there is someone out there who is exactly right for you. Who will love the things about you that I didn’t know how to love. And on the day you find that person, none of this will feel like losing. It will feel like it was supposed to happen exactly this way.”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
“Whatever you feel for me,” I said. “It’s not real love either. You know that. Real love doesn’t feel like keeping score.”
She looked at the ocean. She stood there for a while with the wind moving her hair around and the waves coming in and going out.
Then she walked toward me and put her arms around me and cried.
I held her.
“I’ll pack my bags,” she said.
