“But I should have stood up for you, Caleb. I should have?—"
“You don’t get to pretend like you’re the only person making decisions here,” he interrupts, closing the distance between us. “Stop making yourself responsible for everything! Ichosethis. I was done for the second you stepped on board. And if I could make that choice again, even knowing how things would turn out, I would.”
“I don’t understand.”
I can feel the pressure of unwelcome tears welling behind my eyelids.
“You never called.”
“Stella, how would I have gotten your number?” he protests. “It’s not as if I could text Arthur and ask for it. After I got back to Auckland, I did everything I could think of. I googled Marianne. I downloaded Instagram. I even called every university in Illinois pretending to be one of your students. They wouldn’t even give me your cell number, just an obsolete email that hadn’t been active in weeks. I convinced myself that if you wanted to hear from me, you’d have reached out.”
He leans closer until his breath is strong enough to ruffle my hair. I imagine my heart flying out of my chest like an old cartoon, pounding hard enough to knock down a set of bowling pins.
“I’ll never forgive myself for what I said to you that last day aboard. Honestly, I was in shock. But I’ve run it over a thousand times in my mind and every time it sounds even worse. You were never a mistake. Even knowing how everything played out, even if you never want to speak to me again, I’d do it again a hundred times.”
Suddenly, it’s just me and Caleb, here—no wedding party. No Warrens or parents or expensive band. I feel the energy between us light up like a forest fire: a heat I thought I’d lost that last day at Denarau.
I sure hope that mascara is waterproof.
“I crept away because I didn’t want to drag you down with the ship. If Matthew and Jules hadn’t called me to tell me about the wedding?—“
“Wait, what?” the mention of his name shatters the spell of Caleb’s apology, and I have to run it back in my head to make sure I heard him right. “Matthewcalledyou?”
“About a week ago,” Caleb nods. “They called me and told me that he told the Warrens the truth. Jules said that you wanted to see me, but were too scared to call, and…”
Holy. Shit. I’m not sure if I’m in more disbelief over Jules actually managing to keep a secret or the fact that Matthewthought about anyone other than himself. Did Matthew actually do somethingselfless?
“You didn’t know,” Caleb realizes, whatever hope was in his eyes flicking off like a burnt-out bulb.
“No,” I shake my head.
“I’m such an idiot. You didn’t say a thing to them about me, did you?”
He grabs his jaw firmly as he turns away from me as if to control his reaction. But I can’t form the words to answer him. The significance of what he just said is still catching up to me. Caleb has been trying to contact me the whole time. He’s been just as miserable as I have. He flew across the Pacificfor me.
“Christ, Stella,” he says without looking at me. “Please say I didn’t ruin this for you. I thought you wanted me here. I didn’t think they’d ask me if you didn’t?—"
I take a step towards him and put my hand on his elbow, pulling his hand down from his face until I can interlace it with mine. His fingers are limp, like he’s lost all the gusto that carried him this far. But I can still see something else flickering in his wild blue eyes.Hope.
And that’s all I need.
“Do you remember what you said to me on Mamanuca?” I ask him, gripping his hand like a lifeline. “When we were caught out in the rain?”
Caleb catches my gaze, the ghost of a nod lifting his chin.
“You told me thatnotgoing after what I wanted was the biggest risk of all. And you were right. I’ve been operating on autopilot for so long, I didn’t know how to turn it off. Just going after what I thought I was supposed to—letting myself be blown around like a freaking leaf, and never actually asking myself whetherIwas happy. The truth is, it had been so long since I’d really wanted anything, I forgot what it felt like. Until…”
Caleb swallows, and his hand returns to life, gripping hold of mine the way it did on that rainy cliffside. Squeezing back.
“Until?” he repeats, his voice unsteady. Something bubbles up in my chest—an unwelcome pressure and dizziness that isn’t unlike nausea. Oh god—did I eat a bad oyster? Am I going to throw up on Caleb and make this situation even worse? I take in a few deep breaths and steady my eyes on Caleb’s. It isn’t vomit that’s gurgling in my stomach. It’sfear.Terror. Terror at the sheer irrationality of the choice standing before me. If I tell him how I feel, it makes this real. The awkwardness of telling the family. The struggle of starting a life with someone who doesn’t even live in this country. The horrible, unthinkable risk that I could give my heart to this man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about in months, and it might all blow up in my face.
But beneath the ticker tape of impossibilities is another voice. Something louder—a sound I’ve been shutting out since that night in the lagoon. One that knows, with every fiber of my being, that I love this man. That no matter how much logic I try to stack on it, these feelings aren’t going away.
So instead of running, instead of reaching for the armor I’ve been carrying around since high school, I lean in.
“Until I metyou,” I say softly, pushing through the fear. “You made me remember.”
With those words, the tension that’s been building between us for moments, formonths,evaporates like spilt wine. Caleb wraps his arms around my ribs and I bury my face in his shirt, inhaling the sea salt scent of him.
