Meaning, we’ve been having sex at any given opportunity. It’s been happening for nearly two weeks now.

Don’t ask me what it means or what’s going on because I have no clue. We don’t talk. We just fuck.

And I’m afraid to ask him in case I don’t get the answer I want.

When I left his office, I was hurting from his words, but I couldn’t think of anything else but him. I couldn’t get his smell or taste off me, and I didn’t want to.

I’d missed him for ten long years, and I wasn’t ready to let go. And as it turned out, he felt the same—well, that, or he just really likes fucking me.

Probably the latter.

The next night, he turned up at the café, right at the end of my shift. It was almost like he knew what time I would be finishing.

He stood there in the doorway. He didn’t have to say anything. I was pretty sure I knew why he was there.

But he said, “That he wanted to talk.”

I said, “Okay.”

I locked up the coffee shop and followed him back to his bungalow in silence the whole way. My stomach was churning with nervous excitement, my heart racing.

He opened the door, letting me inside his place.

The moment it shut, I was pushed back up against it, and his mouth was on mine.

Our clothes were gone soon after. I was on his bed with his head between my legs, and I was crying out his name. Then, he was inside me, screwing me like it had been too long since the last time.

When it was over, we both lay there, on separate sides of the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Then, Adam got up and went into the bathroom. When I heard the shower go on, I took that as my cue to leave.

So, I dressed quickly and left.

And we’ve been doing the same thing every night since. Adam turns up at the end of my shift, and then I follow him back to his bungalow where we go at it for a few hours. Then, he gets up and showers, and I leave.

There was one night when he didn’t turn up. My stomach churned, and I felt sick. I felt like I’d lost him all over again even though, in truth, I hadn’t really gotten him back.

So, I went to his bungalow and knocked on his door.

He didn’t answer, so I left.

And like the idiot I am, I cried myself to sleep that night, thinking about where he was and what he was doing—or whom he was doing.

I didn’t see Adam for two nights. It was a long weekend.

Then, on Sunday morning, I remembered him telling me that he only stayed at the hotel during the week.

I felt marginally better.

All day on Monday, I waited, feeling like I was holding my breath, and I didn’t exhale until I saw him standing there in the doorway, looking like the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

Now, it’s been three more days of the same. I’m currently lying in his bed, staring at him, and he’s looking right back at me.

I haven’t left yet.

But I know I’ll have to go soon. I always go right after he gets up.

“Come to Malibu with me this weekend.”

I freeze. Is he…is he asking me to spend the weekend with him? In Malibu…where we met. Does this mean—

“Grady’s been asking to see you.”

Oh.

“Grady? You still talk to him?”

“Yeah. I surf with him every weekend. Max usually comes, too. Grady and I got close after ”—he looks away—“you left.”

A pain pierces my chest. I feel like I’m bleeding out.

“So, you’re asking me to come to Malibu with you because Grady wants to see me?”

His eyes come back to mine. “What other reason would I ask for?”

None, clearly. “Will Max be coming?”

It’s not that I don’t like Max because I do. I think he’s great. But I’m guessing he doesn’t like me so much anymore after I broke his best friend’s heart.

“No. He’s got other plans this weekend.”

“Oh, okay.” I sit up, resting against the headboard. “So, will I need a hotel room?”

I don’t want to be presumptuous and think we’ll be staying anywhere together.

“No, I have a place. You can stay in the spare room.”

Okay.

“Great. Thank you. It’ll be good to see Grady again.”

Come on, Evie. Sure you want to see Grady, but really, this is about you doing anything you can to spend time with Adam, outside of the bedroom.

Not that he said we’d be spending time together. He might just leave me to spend time alone with Grady and let me sleep in his spare room because he’s a good guy.

Adam gets up from the bed, heading toward the bathroom, like usual.

I slip my legs over the side of the bed, covering myself with the sheet, preparing to go.

“And, Evie”—he stops in the bathroom doorway, turning back to me, his hand resting on the frame—“me asking you to go to Malibu doesn’t have anything to do with you and me—not that there is a you and me. Going to Malibu is not some romantic getaway where we get to relive our past and pretend things are okay. Because they’re not okay. I’ve only asked you because Grady’s been bugging my ass about seeing you since he found out you were back. Is that clear?”

Crystal.

His words are like a knife in the chest. This isn’t something I didn’t already think. But I had hoped…I don’t know what I hoped. He doesn’t feel what he used to for me that is obvious enough. I killed those feelings years ago. I know he’s just fucking me. But still…it hurts like a bitch. I have to fight the tears from entering my eyes.

“It’s clear. But I didn’t think there was anything more to it than going to see Grady.”

“Oh. Well, good then.” He turns abruptly and disappears into the bathroom without another word.

And that’s me dismissed.

Taking a deep breath, I pick up my discarded clothes from the floor just as I hear the shower turn on.

As stupid as it sounds, I hate that he showers immediately after having sex with me. It’s like he can’t wait to get the smell of me off of him.

When we were younger, Adam always said he liked the smell of me after sex. He liked it even more when I smelled like him.

And when he did shower after sex, it was always with me, and he’d end up dirtying us both back up again once we were in there.

But we’re not kids anymore.

We’re not the same people we were back then. Everything is different, and that’s because of me.

And after Adam’s little speech, I know for definite that the only thing he wants from me is sex.

I was just fooling myself, thinking maybe he could at some point want more. But why would he? I hurt him in the worst possible way.

I dress quickly, so I won’t be here when he gets out of the shower. I have a feeling he wouldn’t like it very much if I were still here.

I slip my feet into my shoes and grab my bag. Then, I let myself out of his bungalow.

I walk the short distance to my car, which is in the staff parking lot.

When I reach it, I get in my car and turn the engine on.

“Here With Me” by The Killers is playing on the radio with Brandon Flowers lamenting about a lost love that he wants back.

I feel a pinch in my chest and then a sting of tears in my eyes so fierce that I can’t fight them.