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This is what I was frightened of. We both feel wronged and blame the other—rightly or wrongly. Feelings are rarely convenient or well behaved; they are the raw reflection you can’t hide from, even if you put on a mask to try.
The coffee in my cup is tepid, but I drink it anyway.
“Is this what it will be like when we try to have a conversation?” He seems to have the same thought as I do.
“I hope not.”
“Then what do you hope for, Zee?”
Hope? God, that was something I hadn’t felt in years. “Honestly, to start my business. Not shut my family out. Be a better person,” I muse.
“Why did you come back here? If this is what coming back has meant, why didn’t you go somewhere else? Surely you could have picked a hundred other places?” It’s Jayce’s turn to question my decisions, but I don’t have an answer other than it was my home.
“I think I asked you the same thing.” I walk away from the window and cross through the seating area to the breakfast bar segregating the kitchen.
“And I gave you a straight answer. I fell in love with this place, and you were a part of that, but not the reason I came back. I’m glad I’m here, and I’m happy with the path my future is heading. I’m not sure you can say the same.”
“You’re right, Jayce. So, what do you want me to say? That I’m still hurting, that I lost my business and my marriage, but neither cut as deep as facing up to the pain of being here with you?”
“No, of course not.” He shakes his head.
“Then what? What do you want?” My fists pump at my sides as I ask.
“I want the girl I met on the beach all those years ago. I want to feel like we did back then.” He moves towards me and picks up my hands. “We lived every minute for each other, and I believe that’s because we had something special—something pure.”
“That’s a fantasy, Jayce. A first love feeling, impossible to find again.”
“Cut the bullshit, Zee. This is a second chance, but you’re holding back, and I get that. You’ve had your fill of heartache. And you’ve lived with it for a long time. Don’t you want to take a leap of faith for something you know feels right?” he pleads, and the pain in his eyes overtakes his green-blue eyes that seem to fit him so perfectly.
“How can you be so sure? We’ve had such different lives—different experiences since we met, and we certainly aren’t the same people.”
“No, we’re not. We both have baggage, but we’re here, together.”
“Would you believe me if I said I don’t think it would be fair on you? You said yourself it would take more than coffee and an apology. Can we try to be friends first?”
“Only if you mean that? You have a habit of saying one thing and doing the opposite.”
“I mean it, Jayce. I promise.” Exhaustion hits me like I just ran an obstacle course from my past to my present. But I’m still standing, and the tears haven’t threatened. That’s got to be a win. And maybe the next conversation won’t be as fuelled with questions and regret.
I brush my hair back from my face and smile.
“Photos of your travels?” I change the subject and go across the room to the other side, near the dining area. An assortment of pictures adorns the brick wall, with a phenomenal shot of a huge wave in the centre.
Jayce is in some, with another guy, older, darker hair. “Who’s this?” I turn and point out the guy in many of the shots.
“Finnan. He was the first person I met in Bali. We’ve been buddies ever since.”
“It looks like you had a lot of fun.” They’re both smiling in the photos that showed their faces, along with a few other guys.
“We did.” Jayce heads back over to the window to look out.
“Is he still surfing?” I ask, wondering what led Jayce to retire. He didn’t go into detail when we spoke about it on our date.
“No.” He doesn’t elaborate, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to push for more, but I realise I have no right. We’ve barely cleared the air, or rather, we just aired our feelings without dissolving into tears or winding up having sex. I don’t want to unbalance the fragile state we seem to have arrived at today.
“Thank you for listening today. I should go.” I walk back over the expanse of space to the entry door.
“What’s next? Between us, I mean.” Jayce pauses at the door, blocking my exit.
