Page 118 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

Oliver’s face falls. “Oh.” He smooths my hair away from my face. “Why didn’t you tell me at work?”

“I—” Why didn’t I? Because I didn’t want him to ever look at me like he is right now. Like I’m breaking his heart. I draw in breath sharply. “I couldn’t.”

“What about working at Shoreline?” he asks, like my answer could shatter him.

“Maisie offered me the manager job,” I say quietly.

His expression remains stoic. “What did you tell her?”

I don’t understand why he isn’t reacting to this. I shake my head. “How can I take that job?” I search his eyes for comprehension.

“How can you not?” he whispers back.

“It should be yours,” I reply against his cheek, settling back in to the warmth of his body. “How can I take that from you? You feel so trapped here, but you can’t leave. At least a promotion would give you some way to move forward.”

Oliver’s gaze sweeps my face, sending a warm breeze straight into my heart. “I don’t feel so trapped anymore.”

But you will someday, I want to shout. You’ll resent me for taking your opportunity, and it will drive a wedge between us. Look what happens when people sacrifice too much for those they love—they separate and one of them has to get an apartment ten minutes away. Or they spend an entire lifetime in a sexless marriage, quietly pining for something they can’t have.

I draw a shaky breath. “I would never feel right taking something that’s rightfully yours.”

“Ivy, I don’t care about that.” His voice is louder now; filled with desperation. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

Tears prick the backs of my eyelids. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”

We sway back and forth to the blues, clinging to this moment like we’re both about to lose everything. After Van Morrison fades away, we spill out into the darkness, two points of light bobbing about on a black sea.

“Do you want to spend the night?” Oliver’s words beg me not to extinguish his hope.

Being with him is excruciating, knowing how things are playing out. But being without him doesn’t feel like a good alternative, either.

“Okay,” I nod. I take his hand and let him lead me further into the night.

thirty-four

It’s Tuesday. Today’s the day I was supposed to leave. In less than a week from now, I’d be back at school, setting up for the new year. Instead, I’m leaning behind the register at Shoreline, lost in a trance.

“I hope the distant look in your eyes means you’re thinking about how good I look shelving these hardcovers.” Oliver’s voice pulls me out of my musings.

In fact, I’d been caught in a loop of resolution and despair. Every time it seemed like I had a solution to the conundrum we’ve found ourselves stuck in, I’d think of a hundred reasons why it wouldn’t work.

But I don’t want to tell Oliver that. He’s been so wonderful; going out of his way to be gentle and supportive and not push me in one direction or the other.

And he’s right: he does look exceptionally attractive today.

So I force a little smile that I hope conveys my appreciation for his tight white t-shirt and hides the fact that my heart feels like it’s been put through a blender. “Fishing for compliments is a good look, too.”

He feigns shock. “And I thought you hated the nautical puns.”

I shake my head. “That one was an accident.”

“Sure it was.” Crossing the room to stand before me, he leans down until our noses are almost touching across the front desk. “I happened to notice that you look amazing today yourself,” he says low enough that none of our 14 current customers could possibly hear him. “And I was thinking, maybe I could take you out to dinner tonight? Italian?”

“Well,” I say coyly, “I suppose your flattery deserves a reward.”

His brows go up. “I’ll take that, too.”

“Oliver!” I toss a bookmark at him. “I meant the date.”