I trailed off.
Because the truth sounded insane even in my own head.
Not like this.
Not like her.
Not like something that felt like my lungs depended on it.
I didn’t want to scare her.
Didn’t want to look like some guy who falls too fast.
“I dated,” I said again, softer. “I just wouldn’t say I was… in love. Or committed like that. Not since Aimee.”
She hummed like it didn’t matter.
But I caught it.
That tiny shift.
Her brain filing the name away.
“Oh yeah?” she said lightly. “Aimee…?”
And before I even thought about it?—
“Miller.”
The name slipped out easy as breathing.
She nodded once.
Too smooth.
Like she’d just added something to a mental list.
“And she was your college girlfriend?”
“Yeah. Small school. Satellite campus of UNH. Nothing glamorous.”
We walked a few more steps. Gravel crunching under our feet.
Then I nudged her with my elbow. “Alright. Your turn. Don’t interrogate me and then dodge.”
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her dress, picking at a loose thread.
I noticed everything she did.
The nervous tells.
The way she tucked her chin when she didn’t want to say too much.
She always wore dresses. Soft fabrics. Nothing flashy. Just enough to show those long, tan legs when she walked.
Her collarbone caught the light.
Her skin always warm from the sun, smelling shea-coconut sweet.
