Page 161 of Until August
He was standing at the top of the beach, the flickering flames of the fire casting a warm glow on his beautiful face.
Our eyes locked and held, and I drank him in for a few moments. His dark tousled hair. The penetrating gaze of those sea-green eyes. His strong jaw and full lips. Broad-shouldered and bigger than life.
The man I’d fallen in love with before I’d had the chance to grieve the loss of my first love.
As if pulled by an invisible force, I walked across the beach and stopped before him. “Hi,” I said.
“Hi.”
We both laughed.
He looked so good in jeans, a thick black sweater, and a black beanie with just the right amount of scruff on his jaw.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did. We could never have gotten that Michelin star without you.”
“That’s bullshit. You would have gotten it with or without me.”
I shook my head. “No. You made it possible.”
“You got it because you deserve it.”
I stood by my conviction that it would never have happened without him. But I wasn’t going to argue with him.
“It’s so good to see you,” I said softly.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke. “Yeah, well, once again, I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be.”
“Just checking up on me? Making sure I’m okay?”
“It’s become a bad habit.” He bit the corner of his mouth, and I thought he would say more, but he backed away, ready to leave. “Take care, Nic.”
I nodded, biting back the words on the tip of my tongue. “You too.”
It was so hard not to say all the things I wanted to say.
I still love you.
I miss you like a missing limb.
Thank you for loving me. You were so good at it.
I knew we were right for each other. But it wasn’t our time.
I couldn’t give him all of me, and he shouldn’t have to settle for less.
I needed time and space, and August knew that. He knew.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, his head bowed, hands in his pockets.
I was still standing in the same spot long after he was gone.
I had a strange feeling that I wouldn’t see him again unless I sought him out.
He was done looking after me.
How strange that love and grief could co-exist. I couldn’t stop loving August if I tried. Even on my darkest days, when I’d finally allowed myself to really grieve, there had still been tiny glimmers of light shining through. That light was August. Because he was still my sun.
“You love him, don’t you?”
