I writhe beneath him and clutch onto his forearms as a second wave of pleasure crashes against my body. Dom climaxes too.
He collapses on top of me. I sink deeper into the sand, hugging him.
He kisses the crown of my head. “Thank you. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. But I’m here to stay. You won’t regret this decision.” Then, after a pause. “By the way, I’m the decision.”
I smile. I’ve spent years thinking it would never be okay, wasting days and months angry at the world, and Joe, and cell phones, and myself.
At the same time, I can’t help but draw parallels between the last time I had sex and this one.
Both times were with a guy from Massachusetts.
Both were at the beach.
In both, we danced around the subject of a condom awkwardly before doing the deed.
But not everything is similar. Because no matter how much I like Dom, he does not consume me. I’m not desperate for him. I don’t feel like the world would end if we end.
Dom feels safe.
And that’s exactly what I need.
The next morning, we go whale watching, play mini golf, and take a scuba diving class in a shallow pool. By the time we get back to our room, I’m exhausted. Tomorrow, we’ll drive back home and return to our reality. But we still have tonight, and I’m afraid my overdriven boyfriend （he is my boyfriend, right?） will want to bungee jump, go to the rail trail, and adopt a village during this time.
As if reading my mind, Dom gets out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind him. His torso is sun soaked and glistening. A small towel is wrapped around his waist.
“Babe. Do you want to go out? Grab a few beers, maybe catch a late-night show?”
I want to say yes. After all, this is his place. His passion. But the truth is, I miss being Ever. I want to veg in front of a good book and eat things with more artificial colors than actual food.
“Would you mind very much if we stay in tonight?” I ask from my position on the mattress.
Dom sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his forehead. “I wore you out, didn’t I?”
“A little.” I smile.
He squeezes my foot, and it wants to scream in relief. All my muscles are bunched up from walking all day. I’m not as athletic as he is. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get carried away. Let’s have an Everlynne Lawson evening.”
“Really?” I light up.
He nods. “What’s on the menu?”
We order room service and have sex while we wait for the food. The sex is great, and the generic burger with fries is divine. Then I send Dom downstairs to bring us the most uninspiring, common snacks he can find while I browse the pay-per-view movies the inn has to offer. When he comes back, we tumble into bed again, because there’s nothing sexier than a guy who brings you junk food. For a movie, I suggest we settle on a classic, but Dom insists we watch what I would watch if I were all by myself. I choose Parasite, since it won a bunch of awards, and because I love watching foreign films. It’s like winning a free trip somewhere.
The movie is great. Real and raw. But I can see Dom in my periphery dozing on and off. When the movie is over, Dom tries to sound excited about it, to show me he was into it too. “Holy crap, that was a ride, huh?” He rips a bag of M&M’S open and pours some into my hand. “The ending was . . . whoa.”
“Yup. It was a doozy. I liked it.”
His smile drops, and his eyes snap to my lips. “I like you, Lynne.”
I stretch in bed next to him, kissing his shoulder. “You’re not too bad yourself, mister.”
“Actually . . .” He hesitates. “I’m lying. I don’t like you.”
I sit up straighter, confused. We stare at each other. He looks sad. A little pale.
“You . . . don’t?” I ask.
“No.” He swallows, looking me in the eye. “I love you.”
“Oh.”
“Oh.” He grins.
Panic flares in my chest. It spreads to the rest of my organs. My heart is beating like crazy. The silence is too vast and too big and too loud, and the only way to fix it is to fill it with something equally as powerful as Dom’s declaration. But I can’t. I can’t lie to this man, who has been nothing but amazing to me. He deserves more than lip service. And I don’t love him. I’m almost there, but not quite.
“You make me feel like no one else does, Dom,” I say. Each word rings true. “You’re hope, personified.”
I can tell Dom is not satisfied with my answer. It’s not what I said that is wrong. It’s what I didn’t say. That I love him back. He draws me in, tousling my hair like a big brother.