everything goes back to normal—like a dream fading away with the early morning light. I know it’s not fair to feel sad, because I’ve gotten more from him than I ever thought I would, but I want more. So much more.
The two of us have dinner and I push my sadness away. I wish this were real, and I try to make myself believe it is, even if only to keep the sadness at bay until it’s time for it to be felt. We laugh and talk over dinner and it seems like he finds any excuse to touch me. That confuses me, because I don’t know if he’s trying to get in as many touches as he can before we end, or if it’s because he really is that drawn to me. It’s easier for me to believe that this is it—that he’s tired of our game but wants it to end nicely. Maybe he doesn’t think I could love him. Perhaps he feels I’m the one playing nice just to avoid a felony and possible jail time.
After cleaning up following dinner, we shower together—again—and he’s always touching me. Then we fall into bed, completely wrapped up in each other, only to sleep and start another new day. I count the minutes we have left and pray for more.
The week passes by quickly—too quickly. We’ve spent every second of our time together touring the mainland, hiking the rainforest behind the house, swimming in the ocean, and lounging on the beach. At night, we come together in the way we do best. But today is our last day here. Tomorrow we leave bright and early to make our 10 a.m. flight home, back to normal life.
I haven’t brought up anything I found out at high tea, not waiting to ruin our time here. But all the questions are on the tip of my tongue and they’re burning to be released. Still, I refuse to go there until it’s time.
We prepare dinner together. I pour us each a glass of wine and we take everything out to the patio table. The sound of the waves crashing is like music at this point—perfect and speaking a language few know and can understand. But I understand. It’s like all the secrets and questions inside of me: loud, unstoppable, dying to be heard.
He sits across from me at the table with a candle burning between us. He cuts into his chicken and takes a bite while I have a sip of wine.
“Have you enjoyed yourself?” he asks.
“I’m kind of sad to leave, to be honest. I love this place.” I look around at all the beauty this little island has to offer and wish I could stay here forever.
He chuckles. “I’ll have to bring you back sometime.”
It’s easy to read into that statement. I wish it meant we’d spend our lives together and come back here every year like his grandparents did, but I’m sure it’s more of a polite statement than anything else.
“I’d love that,” I reply, feeling my heart crack.
“When we get back home, your piano lessons will start.”
“When we get back home?” I ask, feeling my brow furrow.
He looks up, confused. “You’re not really planning on staying on the island, are you?” he asks with an amused expression.
I laugh. “No, but . . .” I let my words fall away. To me, they may as well have fallen into the sand for the ocean to carry them away.
“What is it?” he asks, taking my hand and looking at me with those dark brown eyes.
I wet my lips, unsure if I should say anything. I don’t want to ruin our time here. “It’s just that I was thinking this was it.”
“What’s it?” he asks, still not catching on.
“I talked with your grandmother . . . I know she’s fine, Matthew. She’s not dying.” I didn’t want to spill everything like this, but now I feel like he’s just torturing me—dragging things out and giving me false hope. “I don’t know if you made all that up or if they’ve magically found a way to cure whatever illness she had, but there’s no point to the game anymore. If I’m being honest, I’ve just been going along with it because I’ve been enjoying it so much.”
His face goes slack, understanding. “You talked to my grandmother?”
I nod. “At tea. I know you said not to bring up her health, but she brought it up. And she made it seem like she plans on being