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“Chris!”

She sounds desperate. Good.

“Wait. Please. If you care about me at all, please wait.” She catches up to me and grabs my arm.

I turn around. “I told you my ex-girlfriend cheated on me. That didn’t make you feel a little guilty while you were messing around behind my back?”

“That’s not fair, Chris.” She looks angry in addition to desperate. “You don’t know the timeline. You don’t know the circumstances. And by the way, I hinted several times that I wanted to try to make things work with you. I suggested FaceTime and Google Meet, and you acted like I wasn’t worth the time.”

“That’s how you felt when we were making out on your couch? That I didn’t have time for you?”

Sarah widens her stance and crosses her arms. A tear rolls down her cheek. Seeing it softens my anger a little, but I’m not sure it’s significant enough to give her time to explain. I turn my back to her again and resume walking.

“You never acted like you wanted to commit,” she hollers after me. “And by the way, Christopher and I weren’t messing around behind your back. That’s not how it worked. Not at all. I only kissed Christopher a few times, and that was before you and I kissed.”

I stop, suck in a deep breath, and turn so I’m perpendicular to her. Maybe I’m overreacting. I stare into the tropical foliage.

“The other day when Christopher took me to the car dealership because you were spooked and ignoring me, he triedto kiss me, but I told him I was involved with you. I haven’t texted him since.”

I hear her words. I want to believe. But is she telling the truth?

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I should have.” Sarah is full-blown crying now. She closes the gap between us. “You have to understand. I feel so stupid saying this, but I’ve never had a real boyfriend. I’ve never had significant feelings for anyone. Until I met you. You woke something up in me. And before you and I ever kissed or made out, I kissed Christopher. I did. But it’s only because you stirred up so many emotions in me. I didn’t know what to do with them.”

“So, it’s my fault that you kissed Christopher?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s not your fault that I kissed him. But you could have let me know what your intentions with me were. You could have let me know you were interested in dating. You could have not ignored me for a week after we made out on your couch. That would have made this all a little easier.”

I cross my arms and look down at the sand. My adrenaline is on a downward trajectory. I’m still angry. Just not seething hot. She’s right about my mixed signals, about ghosting her, about being too focused on my goals to give our relationship a fair shot.

But she didn’t have to kiss Christopher.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Sarah says.

Chapter 20

Sarah

We walk back to my blanket and sit down, and as promised, I tell Chris everything. I tell him about my first date with Christopher, how we hit it off (which Chris already knows, since he found us laughing in a puddle on the kitchen floor). I tell him that Christopher is a great photographer, and I needed headshots, and that I kissed Christopher at his house the day the photos were taken, which was the day after I fell on my painting when Chris tried to kiss me. I tell Chris how uncertain and confused I felt. How Christopher and I continued to text when I didn’t know if Chris and I would ever be a thing, and then finally, how Christopher tried to kiss me in his car, but I declined.

Chris sits on the blanket looking at me intently, not interrupting. Hardly blinking. Attentive, yet distant—not the same Chris who welcomed me with a passionate kiss in front of my dad’s cottage.

I feel like I’m losing him with every word—that after my last sentence, he’ll get up and walk away. So, I keep talking.

“You made my knees buckle. Christopher is nice. He’s a great guy, but it’s not the same.”

Chris looks down and fiddles with a hangnail on his thumb.

“I wanted to tell you sooner. I should have. But has anyone ever told you you’re elusive? I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we were developing. I didn’t want to assume you were into me like I was into you. Like Iaminto you.”

“So, you kept Christopher as a backup.”

“No,” I say emphatically.

“I don’t know how else you’d explain it.”

I try to come up with a rebuttal. The more I think about it, the more I realize, maybe I was keeping Christopher around as a “just in case.” I’m not proud to admit it, and I’m not prepared to say it out loud.

“You told me right away that you’re moving to Puerto Rico. How much louder could you declare, ‘I’m off the market?’”