My dog’s tongue lolls out, and he rolls onto his back, all four paws in the air as Caleb squats next to him, beaming up at me as he scratches Gunner’s soft black underbelly.
“He’s aged better than I have,” Caleb says with a laugh. “And he’s happy to see me, at least.”
I blink, hugging my arms around my chest. “I?—”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Caleb says as I try to formulate a cohesive response that isn’t just me repeating a tremulous “I” over and over again.
In the distance, a ship’s foghorn sounds, and we both ignore it. Rimmed with dark lashes, his eyes are a dark, melted brown, and I couldn’t work with chocolate for months after we broke up years ago.
It reminded me of him.
“It’s good to see you, too,” I say, and I hate the way my voice breaks on the words, like waves crashing over the jetty.
Caleb’s dark brown eyes drop to Gunner again. “You know, I always said it’s like that dog can almost talk, and I forgot how true that is.”
Gunner grins up at him in that doggy way. Caleb has no idea how true it is.
“He would have a lot to say, I’m sure,” I manage, pushing an errant lock of sweaty hair off my face.
Gunner barks, his tail thumping from side to side so hard that I can’t help grinning down at him. He always did love Caleb.
It’s impossible not to.
“I should have…”
“I have to?—”
We both stop, watching each other closely, dance partners out of sync after a long time apart.
“How long has it been?” Caleb asks, squinting at me as the sun clears a cloud.
“Long,” I say simply. One word, one syllable —a world full of meaning. Of restless nights and tear-soaked days, of frustration and longing and bittersweet regret.
All my candy those first few months turned out wrong.
Crystalized sugar in the fudge, toffee that never set, caramel that burnt.
I had to stop trying to make new recipes. My sisters helped when they could.
None of us knew heartbreak could affect our magic. Now we know heartbreak is a curse all its own.
Better than the alternative, though, because Caleb is still here. He’s alive, I mean.
I didn’t expect for him to be here, in Silverlight Shore, at all.
“Long,” he repeats the word. “You didn’t know I was in town.”
It’s not a question. I don’t have to answer it.
I nod anyway, my throat bobbing, the scar tissue where my love for him lived ripped open and raw all over again. “Are you?—”
“I’m staying. For a while. I should have…” he trails off, and I force my gaze away, watching the gulls dip and dive over the roiling water.
“I’m sure everyone’s glad you’re back,” I say, my voice too bright, too normal. My gaze slips back to him.
Fake. He knows it, too. Knowsmetoo well, still, after all this time apart.
“It’s good to see you, Ivy Romantic.” He says my name slowly, as if he’s savoring the taste of it on his tongue.
