“It’s not enough.” I clasped my trembling fingers together.
Silence fell between us, his body still as death. I wanted to move to him, run my hand through his waves, let him press his lips tomine and relax, but held back.
It wouldn’t help. Not when I could no longer deny the spark between us had cooled to ashes long ago.
Not when I had now found a different, truer spark: arms wrapped around mine as water buried me, coming up for air against a rapid heartbeat, a damp shirt, water-stained spectacles hiding dark eyes that hungered for more…
“I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am,” I said.
David stared off into the distance. “So where does that leave us?”
My words were quiet. “I think you already know.”
He finally turned to me, but now, the affection had faded, and in its place was grief.
“I’m not ready to settle. I’m not sure I’ll ever be. You’d have to be okay with that.”
“Don’t be rash, Lyra.” His hand reached for me once more, and I leaned away so his fingers met only air.
“I’ve been lying to myself for long enough,” I said, my voice wavering. I got to my feet, dusting off my dress and trying to hide the way my body shook. “You need to find someone else.”
A muscle in David’s jaw clenched, but he failed to reply. I offered a sad smile.
I left him there, beneath the tree with fiery colors dancing in the leaves above. I prayed for him, that he’d find a love that showed him just what I meant when I said not enough.
And prayed that I’d made the right choice.
Stars danced across the pond’s reflection as I waited for PrinceThomas by the water. Cricket chirps and owl hoots echoed between the palace hedges, lit only by the night sky and a few scattered torches. He was usually here first, but tonight, the autumn breeze wrapped its way around my ankles, tossing my skirts in a way that made me flush. It was hard to forget the way my nightgown had clung to me only yesterday, the way water had plastered his shirt to his skin as we held onto each other beneath the wave.
Leaves crunched behind me. I turned toward the sound.
Thomas stood, his tailcoat buttoned tight, his arms unusually empty.
“No books?” I asked.
He shook his head, coming to sit on the boulder next to me. “Not tonight.”
I handed him the compilation of research notes I’d scribbled down at his request, all bound in a leather folder for him to take with him to university.
“Have I graduated from your class?” I teased, nudging him with my shoulder.
He chuckled, looking down at his hands, at the folder tucked within them. “You have certainly surpassed my expectations.”
I bit back a smile. I looked out on the still water, aware of the inches of air zapping with energy between us. “My Papa would be so proud of me.”
“As he should,” Thom said. “The water tower took me a year to figure out. It took you three months.”
“Yes, three months of focused, obsessive practice.”
“A very attractive trait,” he muttered, then ducked his head as if he wished he could take the words back.
Warmth flooded my cheeks as I fiddled with my skirts. “Minewasn’t nearly so tall as yours.”
“Give it time,” he said. “By next summer, yours will be three times my height.”
I laughed. “Then it willreallymake a wave.”
He tensed next to me, and my chuckles slowed, both of us lost in memories of a moment that should have never happened, but now that it had, we couldn’t take it back. Goosebumps prickled my arms and neck in the cool night air.
