Don't let her do this. Don't let her pretend everything's fine.
But pretending was easier. Pretending was safe. Pretending was what Alex Carmichael did best.
"I'll grill the fish," he said. "Give me twenty minutes."
Dinner was a masterpiece of avoidance.
They talked about the footage. About the coral. About the weather patterns Alex was tracking. Safe topics. Professional topics. Topics that kept them on opposite sides of the invisible wall that had sprung up between them.
Alex hated it.
He hated the careful distance in her voice. He hated the way she looked at him sometimes—like she was waiting for something he couldn't give. He hated that he'd let himself care this much, and he hated even more that he couldn't seem to stop.
"Let's eat outside," Lily suggested, her tone carefully casual. "Watch the sunset."
"Good idea."
They carried their plates to the beach, settling onto the sand still warm from the day's sun. The sky was doing its usual tropical showing off—streaks of orange and pink and purple that looked like a tourism board's fever dream.
"I'm going to miss this," Lily said quietly, her eyes on the horizon.
Alex's chest tightened. "The sunsets?"
"All of it." She was quiet for a moment. "Especially you."
The words hung between them, fragile and heavy. Alex set down his plate, turning to face her.
"Lily—"
"You don't have to say anything." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm not fishing for anything. I just wanted you to know because maybe you haven’t heard it enough in your life.”
Tell her. Tell her you feel the same. Tell her you're terrified of losing her.
He reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. "I'm going to miss you too. More than I know how to say."
Then say more, the voice demanded.Say what you actually mean. Ask her to stay.
But the words stuck in his throat, trapped behind years of self-protection and the bone-deep fear that asking for what he wanted only led tolosing it.
"This has been..." Lily shook her head, searching for words. "I came here expecting the worst experience of my life. Instead, I got..." She gestured vaguely at the sunset, the island, him. "This. You. Something real."
"Real," Alex repeated, the word feeling solid and true.
"Yeah." She squeezed his hand. "Whatever happens next, thank you for that."
Whatever happens next.
She was giving him an opening. A clear, unmistakable opportunity to say that "next" didn't have to mean goodbye.
Alex opened his mouth.
"You're welcome," he heard himself say. "Thank you for making my research matter to more than twelve people."
Lily laughed, but it sounded forced. "That's what I'm here for. Conservation influencing, coming to a viral video near you."
They finished dinner as the sun sank below the horizon, making small talk that carefully avoided anything too heavy. Then they walked back to the cabin hand in hand, and Alex made love to her one more time, pouring everything he couldn't say into the press of hislips, the worship of his hands, the rhythm of their bodies moving together.
I love you, he thought with every thrust.I love you and I'm sorry I can't say it.
