She leaned closer.
“Are you angry?”
“No.”
“Worried?”
“A little.”
“About me leaving?”
I considered lying.
Annie had done enough of that for both of us.
“Yes.”
Her thumb moved across the back of my hand.
“I’m worried too.”
It should have comforted me.
Instead, it made the whole thing feel more real.
I leaned in and kissed her.
Right there on the seawall.
Not a long kiss.
Not enough to attract attention.
Just enough to stop the conversation from becoming heavier than either of us wanted on a sunny afternoon with lemonade between us.
When we pulled apart, Annie looked over my shoulder.
Her body changed instantly.
I followed her gaze.
A woman stood several yards away near the end of the market.
Late twenties, maybe. Red shorts, white tank top, enormous sunhat. A phone hung loosely in one hand.
She was staring at Annie.
Not casually.
Not the way people stared when they were trying to remember where they had met someone.
She knew.
I felt Annie’s fingers tighten around mine.
The woman took one slow step toward us.
Annie lowered her face.
