Page 51 of Covetous

“Making yourself comfortable?” I tease.

“Yep.” He folds his arms over his chest and closes his eyes.

“Are you going to sleep?”

“Nope. Just listening. Everything is sharper when you close your eyes—the sounds, the smells, the thoughts…”

My mind is a mess of conflict, feeling torn between wanting to be close to him and keeping my distance. Closing my eyes, I try to focus on the calming sounds around us—the crashing waves, the whistling wind, the familiar scent of salt and seaweed. But all I can think about is him—his clean scent, his closeness, and the tangled mess of my thoughts.

We sit there in silence for a while, neither of us willing to break the peacefulness of the moment. But then he shifts, and I can feel him watching me. “You’re going to get sand all over you,” I finally say.

He chuckles lightly, dismissing the concern. “Too late to worry about that. And I don’t care.”

I open my eyes and unwrap half of my blanket. “Here.”

His gaze meets mine, a flicker of surprise in it. “What?”

“We can both use it. It’s a king-size comforter. There’s more than enough room for the both of us. We don’t even have to touch.” I add that last part as a precaution for myself.

“Okay.” He sounds unsure, and if I think about it for too long, I will be too. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

We situate ourselves, a deliberate gap separating us. Underneath the blanket, I wrestle with the desire to close that distance. Instead, I lift my gaze to the moon, seeking its cold, serene beauty as a distraction from the warmth spreading through me just from being this close to him.

We sit in silence again, and this time I’m grateful that he’s not watching me. We needed this break—this time to clear our heads—but it only brings up more questions and doubts. As time passes and the night air grows cooler, an unexpected thought surfaces: I’m not ready to leave the beach, not just yet.

“Is Esme okay?” he eventually asks, breaking the long pause between us.

“No,” I answer honestly. “But she will be.”

He curses under his breath, his guilt evident. “I never wanted to hurt her. But this is all on me. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not all on you,” I say, trying to ease some of the burden off his shoulders. “It’s on me too. I haven’t been the best friend to her.”

His eyes lock with mine, searching, holding. “I’m glad you were there for her tonight.”

“I’ll always be there for her.”

“I know. She’s lucky to have you,” he agrees.

I don’t know about that. “Relationships are hard.”

“Especially when you’re with the wrong person.”

I break eye contact to stare up at the stars; they’re the brightest I’ve seen them in months. “Ian and I broke up…sort of.”

“The fuck is sort of? You’re still wearing his ring.”

The confession spills out. “We’re on a break. I didn’t cancel the wedding, but our relationship is on pause until I can figure some stuff out.”

“On pause.” He lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “What else is there to figure out?”

“I told him that I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him.”

He blows out a breath. “Shit.”

“I know. It’s so fucked up.” Memories of my parents’ tumultuous relationship surface, bitter and sharp. “But my parents were in love, and look where it got them? They were toxic and codependent, and in the end, their love ruined them.”

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