But anger still simmers beneath the understanding. Not at his choice—I can see the impossible position his father forced him into—but at the secrecy. At ten years believing the worst of him, believing I wasn’t worth fighting for, when the truth was so much more complicated.
On the helicopter ride back, he wanted to be close to me. I secretly craved more—his hand on mine, his arm around me, anything to keep the fragile warmth of last night alive. But I couldn’t let myself take it. The moment the skids touched down and the doors opened, I bolted. Straight to the pool deck. Away from him. Away from the careful politeness we’ve both been clinging to since dawn, when his hands were still on my skin and every reason to resist him disappeared.
God, the way he made me feel.
Even now, the memory sends heat pooling low. His mouth worshipping me, claiming me like a man starved. For those hours, I’d been his completely—no walls, just raw need and connection.
And that terrifies me more than his abandonment ever did.
Because if I let him back in that deep again, in my body, my soul, and he leaves—even for the right reasons—it will break me beyond repair.
“You look like hell,” Emily says as we settle into a quieter corner of the villa. We stretch out in sun chairs facing the blinding tropical horizon. I don’t look at her, but I hear the sympathy threaded through her bluntness.
“Thanks. Exactly what every woman wants to hear.”
“I call it like I see it.” She studies me with the directness that made us fast friends. “Want to talk about it?”
The offer hangs between us, tempting. I’ve carried this alone for less than twenty-four hours, and the weight of it already feels crushing.
“It’s complicated.”
“The best things usually are.” Emily leans back, sunglasses hiding her eyes. “Try me. I’m a good listener.”
Where do I start?
The boy who loved me enough to sacrifice everything?
The man who kept me in the dark for my protection?
Or the terrifying truth that I want him again?
“Scott told me why he left,” I say finally.
“And?”
The words spill out—Vincent’s threats, Scott’s impossible choice, ten years built on a lie. Emily doesn’t interrupt once. Her expression shifts slowly from shock to thoughtfulness.
“Holy shit,” she breathes when I finish. “That’s…romantic in the most fucked-up way I’ve ever heard.”
“Romantic?” I stare at her. “He made a life-altering decision without me. Let me believe our relationship meant nothing.”
“You were both kids,” Emily says quietly. “You can’t expect an eighteen-year-old to go to war with his father and come out knowing exactly what the right move is.”
I shake my head.
“If you really think about it,” she continues, “leaving was his way of fighting back. I’d be saying something very different if he’d dumped you like his dad told him to.”
“He still left.”
Emily nods slowly. “That’s true. And I can’t imagine how much that hurt you back then. But you deserved the truth, even if it was ugly. He did the right thing telling you.”
“He’s been trying to explain since the first day we got here. And I kept pushing him away, convinced whatever reason he had would just be some lousy excuse.”
If I’d let him explain sooner…would anything be different?
Maybe it would have changed everything. Maybe nothing at all. I’ll never know. But the important thing is that I know now.
“Hate what he did all you want,” Emily says gently, “but you have to admit how much he gave up.”
