I listen to sand shifting in the wind, the ocean, but mostly to the steady rhythm of his breath. The way it drags in through his nose, how it hums low in his chest, and then carries the faint sweetness of mints into the air between us.
The moment swells. Tender. Almost unbearably perfect.
Until he says, "Emma?"
Only Ben ever calls me Emma. I've always been Em to everyone else. My parents. My friends. Richard. Half a name, half a person.
With Ben, I was always Emma, always whole, even when I felt most broken. And I missed that—missed being someone's whole thought.
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever think about what would've happened if you came back?"
I almost smile because of course he timed it perfectly, when my nervous system lulled, and I won't fire up. I had a hunch he'd go there eventually—unlike me, Ben faces things head-on.
A part of me wonders if he brought me here for exactly this, so I couldn't escape the conversation.
"I have," I admit, eyes closed. "But maybe everything happens for a reason. I had to stop making the same mistakes."
I feel his body shift next to me. Peek one eye open and see that his face has gone completely blank.
"What mistakes?" His stare pins me, face instantly overheating. Then—sharp exhale. "Forget it. I don't even care anymore."
My eyes widen, then narrow even faster.He doesn't care anymore?
"Okay," I bite out.Me neither.
He backtracks immediately, his voice flattening like he's trying to keep it neutral, but his jaw is tensed. "But I do. Not because I want to be with you. I don't—"
"Ben." I glare a warning,Don't you dare finish that sentence.
He's unloading anyway, angling his whole body toward me. "Don't look at me like that. We almost slept together. If you weren't on your period—"
I lurch back, mortified he'd say that. Then force my chin up and start firing too. "So what? We should've also spent New Year's together. You never showed."
"I was back in a few days—"
"You said you were staying there—"
"Of course, I wasn't staying there." His voice rises, his look saying I'm absurd. "I went back. You didn't. You stayed in Seattle. Started dating—"
"Someone mature," I cut in, springing to my feet, ready to walk away, even though I'm not sure where. My hand slices the air in front of him. "While you were auditioning for Bachelor of the Year. Posting photos with some random chick."
He shoots up too, instantly ruffled as the vein on his neck pulses. "It was one damn photo! Of an old friend! Between twenty others with family!"
"Okay." I cross my arms, face calm. Too calm. "So. Did you sleep with her?"
The second I ask, he jolts—not just a flicker, but a whole-body wince. Opens his mouth. Shuts it.
Because he knows.
"Did you fuck her, Ben?!" The words rip out of me, making my throat hoarse.
He drags in a breath and his head drops down. "Yeah, but—wait—!"
"No!" I spin, stomping the rage flat beneath my feet whilesprinting away. He can keep his explanations. I will keep my pride in pieces.
"Unbelievable. I should've never even kissed you!"
