"I'm sorry, I—" I stopped myself. I didn't have to breathe life into those ancient aches today.
He gathered up my hair again, twisted it around his hand. "What have these days been if not time?"
"This has been a break. An escape from our regularly scheduled mutual hate and loathing."
"I've never hated you," he said.
"Sure, you just do a fantastic job of pretending otherwise."
"I'veneverhated you, you crochety little witch. Even when I wanted to wring your neck.Especiallywhen I wanted to wring your neck. And you know that." He dropped my hair and stepped back, a deep sigh rattling out of him. "What the hell are we doing, Sara? What do you want us to do? Answer me this time."
Eventually, I admitted, "I don't know."
He watched as I shifted, stared out at the ocean. "Would you tell me why it's so difficult to envision a world where the time we spend together isn't employer-mandated? I want to understand why that looks so terrible to you, because it can't be all about institutional bullshit and me picking on plastic surgeons. You're tougher than that."
"Has it ever occurred to you that requiring me to be tough is half the problem here?"
He stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the water. "It'snothalf the problem. You're the toughest little cookie I've ever met and I know a lot of tough cookies. You just haven't realized that you don't have to be tough with me."
"You pick fights with me all the time," I yelled.
"Because it's fun," he yelled back.
"All this time, I've been battling you and you've—you've been havingfun?"
"And you weren't?"
"No!" I cried.
"The time you pummeled me with stuffed animals? That wasn't a tiny bit fun for you?"
"It was—you know what that was," I said impatiently.
"And the time you paid a hostess to ask me if I was the most arrogant surgeon in the city? You weren't having any fun then?"
"I didn't have to pay her," I replied with a sniff. "She did it for free."
"And what about the time you tried to drown me in the Charles River? There wasn't a single drop of fun in that for you?"
"You have to stop saying I tried todrownyou. Your sleeve was damp. There's a significant difference between a few splashes and holding your overinflated head under the water for a prolonged period of time."
"And this?" he asked. "This isn't fun for you? Not even a little?" When I didn't respond, he went on, "Because I think it is, Sara. You just don't want to recognize it. You're so much fun to fight with. You get all worked up and you're so damn gorgeous when you're furious for no reason, and because you like it too. Admit it, for once, that you love battling me. That you can push and push and push, and the only thing I'm ever going to do is pull your hair and fuck you harder."
"Even if a fraction of that is correct—and I'm not saying it is—don't you think I get tired of that?" I asked, still louder than anyone should be speaking on a beach in Jamaica at sunrise. "Don't you think I want some nice, simple interactions that don't involve screaming or beating the shit out of each other at jousting?"
He brought his hands to my shoulders, up my neck. "No. I think you want to be loud. I think you want to be as wild and prickly and sweet as you know you truly are, and I think you want someone who sees that mess and wants more of it. Who wants all of it."
I needed a minute to think. That was it, just a minute to think. And breathe. And also get the hell out of this conversation and into a place where this man wasn't crawling inside my head, scooping up my thoughts, and forcing me to look them in the eye. "I haven't packed," I said. "I should do that. Now. Soon. I mean, I have to go soon and I should pack now."
"Sara." My name was a sigh.
"If you want to continue talking to me, you can do it while I pack," I said, storming up the beach.
It took me all of a minute to reach the bungalow and another minute to drag my bags from the closet and start shoving my things inside. If I knew anything about folding clothes or organizing garments, it didn't show. No, this was fully slapdash and that was the goal. I was doing exactly what I intended and no one was going to tell me otherwise. I knew myself and I was certain,so fucking certain, of all the things. I had it all right here in my contradictory little pocket. I wasn't trying to reorient my entire world while also gathering my things for international travel.
It took several more minutes for Sebastian to appear in the doorway, his hair tousled like he'd run his fingers through it a million times. He tipped his head to the side, silent a moment as he watched me fill the suitcase.
"No one," he started, then thought better about it and pressed his fist to his mouth.
