I smile and sip pink lemonade and take a bite or two and things are going well. Still. The massive imaginary black hole that sits between us is painfully getting in the way of me having a good time. What are we even doing here? Why haven’t we mentioned the shower make out session?
Am I completely going insane here? I did not imagine that. It happened.
The seafood restaurant Kris chose is right on the seawall, a lengthy sidewalk that runs along the beach on the south side of the island. When the waitress brings the check, Kris grabs it without hesitation, slipping his debit card into the black folder and handing it back to her. “Want to go for a walk after this?” he asks me, leaning in on his elbows.
“Where?” I ask like the idiot that I am. We’re right next to the beach. Where the hell else did he want to walk?
Kris doesn’t point out my stupidity, luckily. “I was thinking we could take a walk in the sand. We can drop our shoes off at my truck, if you want.”
Right now I kind of want to go home, crawl into my bed and roll up in the fetal position so I can be alone with my thoughts for however long it takes to get over this weird night with my boss. But a walk would give him another chance to bring up the topics we should have talked about a long time ago. This could be his chance to finally apologize and explain himself. Maybe he’s nervous too. Maybe we need this walk.
Warm sand wraps around my toes as I step off the final concrete stair on the seawall, landing on the plush white sand of the Sterling Island beach. The sun sets on the horizon and the warm ocean breeze dances across my face, sending my hair whipping around my neck. I know from experience that attempting to wrestle with the wind and my unruly hair will only make my head hurt, so I leave it alone. A few people remain on the beach, some sleeping on beach towels or chasing children through the water.
Kris joins me, stretching his arms out to the sides with a satisfied groan. His fingertips touch my shoulder before he drops his hands and shoves them in his pockets. “I freaking love the smell of the beach,” he says, inhaling the salty air as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. I wish I could feel that relaxed. Right now I’m a bundle of nervous anxiety. I want answers. I want an apology.
I want to hold his hand.
I draw in a long breath of air, hoping to clear my head of those nonsense thoughts, but an emotion that feels a lot like depression takes over my body and I let out the breath in a sigh that sounds entirely too unhappy. I immediately wish I could take it back out of embarrassment, but Kris looks over at me, the sunset reflecting off his auburn eyes, and I know that this is my moment to talk to him.
“Kris…” I say in a voice so quiet, the sound of the ocean drowns it in the air. He must hear me, because his hand grabs mine a second later. My toes tingle at the touch of his rough fingers holding mine, but his grasp only lasts a moment. We stop walking and he lets go.
“I know,” he says, glancing down at our feet before meeting my eyes. “We need to talk.”
“Why has it taken so long?” I ask, letting a tiny nervous smile land on my lips. As much as I want to hate him for what he did to me ten years ago, all I want right now is an apology.
He runs a hand through his hair. “You just looked so beautiful…”
What?
“What does that have to do with anything?” My voice startles me with how loud it is over the roar of the ocean waves.
Kris lifts an eyebrow. “That day,” he begins, speaking slowly as if I’m too dumb to understand. “You were so amazingly beautiful. I mean, you always are but with paint all over you and…” he trails off, taking his hands out of his pockets and shoving them back in again. “That’s why I did what I did. I’m sorry if it was inappropriate. I couldn’t help myself.”
My mouth falls open. I did want to know his reasons for kissing me that day, but that’s not what I thought we were here to talk about.
“You look upset,” he says, reaching an arm out to touch my elbow. I look down at his fingers as they graze across my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. “We can forget it ever happened, if you want. I’m really sorry, Del.”
A jab of pain pierces my heart when he says my name. He always called me Del, even before my sister started doing it. It took years for me to hear that word without cringing from the bad memories. I shake my head. “That’s not why I’m upset.” My lips move to the side of my mouth and I play with the ring on my left index finger. “That day in the locker room was…memorable…but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
Kris’s dark blond eyebrows draw together. “What do you want to talk about?”
I lift my shoulders and let them fall hard as I let out an aggravated sigh. “What the hell do you think I want to talk about, Kris Payne?” I walk forward, my toes catching ripples of water as they crash onshore. I’m practically yelling now, and the few people around don’t need to hear it. “You left me, Kris.” I turn and look at him over my shoulder, ignoring his confused expression. “You left.”
Kris rushes forward and keeps pace with me as I march angrily through the sand. “What are you talking about?” His voice is pained, on the verge of desperate. If he wasn’t such an asshole I might feel sorry for him.
I roll my eyes, refusing to believe that he’s truly unaware of what he did. “You watched me climb into that ambulance and then you left and never came back again.”
Tears fill my eyes as wind whips my hair wildly around my face. I wipe my hand across my cheek, pushing back strands of hair so I can look him in the eye when he grabs my arm for the second time. My teeth grind together. “You disappeared and never talked to me again. I loved you, and you walked away.”
His fingers dig into my arm, urging me to stop walking. With a weary sigh, I slow my steps and let my toes dig into the sand to anchor me. I blink away tears and look at him, shocked to find his face contorted in as much pain as I feel. “Delaney,” he says, gently tugging my arm around so that my body faces his in the warm summer air. His hands clasp my elbows, holding me tightly. He swallows. “I didn’t want to leave you,” he says. Chills prickle down my arms. “You told me to leave.”
Chapter 16
Disbelief and anger compete for my attention as I look at Kris, whose usually cocky expression is now childlike and innocent. “I never told you to leave,” I say with a hardened jaw with clenched fists at my sides. My emotions make me want to yell, but I hold back. I refuse to believe that he has an acceptable excuse for what he did.
“You didn’t have to say anything. You made it perfectly clear in your letter.”
I throw my arms in the air. “What fucking letter?” Now I’m yelling.