Paying, leaving the store, getting into my truck, driving home—I remembered none of it. I did, however, remember every word of that cover story about Cole. I couldn't handle this. I'd given this man everything, all of me, and I'd thought I was getting all of him inreturn.
But there was always more to Cole's story. Secrets, histories, situations I didn't understand and couldn't bring myself to explore. But I'd convinced myself reality wasn't too far divorced from the fantasy. He was wealthy and accomplished, and held enough sway to take the summer off without issue. I could handle that. His reality was a slim fraction of the one I'd imagined, one that foreclosed all possibility of a future forus.
There was no place for me in a world that involved epicfortunes.
I was a tough guy, a strong guy. Being a lobsterman did that to me, and being alone for all these years did it, too. I didn't consider myself sensitive or delicate, but everything about this fucking hurt. Throughout the ride back to Talbott's Cove, I kept a fist pressed to my chest to hold back the risingache.
He was on the couch when I arrived, his long legs stretched out, computer on his lap, glasses perched on his head. I was all out of words, and couldn't offer more than a slammed door ingreeting.
"Hey, what's…" His voice trailed off when I turned the magazine toward him. "Oh,shit."
"That's it?" I barked. "All you've got for me isoh, shit? You're a fucking billionaire and you've invented, like, theentire internet, and you never thought any of that was worth mentioning? You didn't think I deserved a heads-up on thatone?"
Cole closed his computer and stared at the floor. Seconds that felt a whole fuckton like hours passed without aword.
"I'm sorry." He stood, wincing at the magazine as he approached me. "I didn't mean for it to happen like"—he glanced at the magazine that hung from my hand like an old-timey wanted poster—"that. But you said you didn't want to know. I tried to tellyou."
Somewhere along the way, I'd stopped thinking of him as a fantasy. I allowed myself to forget the corners of his life he kept from me, and in that forgetfulness, I believed he could bemine.
Never once had I braced myself for the kind of status and acclaim that would put his face on magazines. It wasn't a matter of our worlds being differentanymore.
"There's a difference between knowing you're wealthy and important, andthis." I shook the magazine at him. It didn't matter that I'd asked him to spare me the details of his life on the West Coast. That I asked for the lies. "I know my world is nothing like yours. I've always known that. I had no idea you're the master of the online universe. You're fuckin' internetroyalty."
"That's an exaggeration." Frowning, he folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not internetroyalty."
"The fuck you aren't," Icried.
"Royalty suggests power by bloodline." He shrugged. "I wasn't born into this. I'm more of analchemist."
"Oh, my God, Cole," I shouted. "Shut the hellup."
He was decent enough to stop talking and hold up his hands insurrender.
"The article said you were in search of a 'creative lightning rod' and a 'spiritual, strategic reawakening,' whatever the fuck that means. What was this to you?" I asked. "Some kind of experiment? Head up to Maine, fuck a lobsterman, and find your next greatidea?"
"Of course not," he said. "I was wrong. I should've told you, and I wanted to tell you so manytimes."
"But you decided to keep right on hiding instead," I roared. "You're good at that, aren't you? You ran away from Silicon Valley after some app that didn't work. That's why you're here,right?"
"None of that matters, Owen," he argued. "You're the only one who knows me, the real me. You have to believeme."
I turned away from him, shifting my gaze to the ocean. "I thought I knew you, but that article makes it clear that Idon't."
"I can tell you right now that article is bullshit. There are news stories and blog posts written about me every day. Entire books about me, my company, my approach to business. I know this is all new to you,but—"
"I'm not stupid, Cole," Iinterrupted.
He brought his fingertips to his forehead and rubbed his temples. "That's not what I was saying. I was wrong, Owen. I should've told you. Held you down and forced you to listen. But I loved that you knew me, the guy who drifted into the Cove, not the internet royalty." His lips quirked up in a rueful smile. "You found me and you took me in when I was lost and lonely. You accepted the guy who fell overboard. The one who required a lesson on dishwashing and pestered you with a thousand questions. I wanted you to lovethatguy, and not the one with an industry on hisshoulders."
"Ididlove that guy, but I can't love this guy," I said, gesturing to themagazine.
"Goddamn it, Owen," he yelled. "Don't say that. Don't fucking saythat."
Summer love was never meant for me. It wasn't mine to keep. I built sandcastle dreams and the tides washed them away everytime.
"I think you shouldgo."
Cole's eyes drifted shut, his head fell forward, and his shoulders slumped. For an instant, my heart ached to comfort him. And goddamn him for that. Even at my most gutted, I still wanted to care forhim.
