“Oh. Uh. Maybe later.” I gulp for air. “It’s really dusty in there.”
“I don’t mind a bit of dust.”
“No.” I can hear the tightness of my own tone. “I mean... Not right now, all right?”
Oliver’s brows lift toward his hairline. “Darlin', are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Honestly, I think I’m just a little bit shocked you’re standing here.”
He nods, turning away from the boathouse to examine the rest of the cove. “Good shocked, right?”
“Great shocked.”
“That’s my girl.” A smile lights up his whole face at my words. It wavers a bit when his eyes snag on something in the distance. I turn to see what’s bothering him and feel my own half-smile vanish — along with all the air in my lungs.
Archer’s lobster boat is heading out of the cove, into open water. With the waves lapping gently at his bow and the sky above streaked a million shades of red, the idyllic nautical scene looks like an oil painting you’d see hanging in a Winslow Homer exhibit. But the beauty is not what steals my breath; rather, the name written across the boat’s stern in unmissable bold letters.
JOSEPHINE
My mouth falls open. My legs nearly give out beneath me. My arm around Ollie’s waist is just about the only thing keeping me upright.
In thick silence, my boyfriend looks down at my face — just once, just for a heartbeat — before turning his attention back to the cove. He stares after the departing boat until it’s passed the channel markers and rounded the point, motoring back toward Gloucester Harbor. Only when all signs of Archer are out of our view does he loose a long breath.
“Never dated — that is what you told me, right?”
We stare at each other across the kitchen island, both holding cups of tea. Mine has gone cold, still untouched. More a prop than anything. I don’t trust my queasy stomach to hold it down, at the moment. I notice an unfamiliar tension in Oliver’s fingers as he grips the porcelain cup, lifting it to his mouth for a long swallow.
I can’t blame him for being tense. I’ve spent the past half hour telling him about my history with Archer. Our childhood here at Cormorant House. The complicated dynamics of last spring. The tangled web of half-truths we wove in the summer that followed. My words catch as I talk about prom night. The morning after. The note. The year of silence. The storm.
I don’t share the details of Archer’s accident, or the situation with his brother Jaxon. That’s not my story to tell. But everything else pours out. Even things I’d planned to keep to myself — like the fact that I’m no longer a virgin. Or the fact that I have Archer to thank for that state of affairs.
It’s difficult to share everything with him, but I figure it’s the least I can do. Oliver has only ever offered me honesty; he’s owed the same in return. By the time I finish speaking, my heart beats woodenly inside my chest and my eyes are heavy with the weight of unshed tears. I wait for him to respond with bated breath, fully prepared to defend myself for any judgment.
I don’t regret my choices. I only regret that not telling you about those choices is causing you pain now.
As usual, Ollie surprises me. He doesn’t fixate on my virginity. He doesn’t judge me at all.
“Thank you,” he murmurs instead, knocking the wind out of me with those two little words. “For trusting me enough to share.”
“Thank you for listening.”
“I had a feeling something like this might’ve happened.” There’s no accusation in his voice — only a grim sort of resignation. “I could sense you pulling away, day by day. That something — or someone — was pulling you away from me. It’s why, the first chance I got, I hopped on a plane here.”
“Are you angry with me?” I ask. My voice is shaking. “I swear to you, Ollie, nothing happened between me and Archer. I would never be unfaithful.”
“I know. I trust you, Josephine. But I don’t trust him.” Storm clouds of anger move across his typically sunny expression. “He hurt you.”
He had his reasons, I think instantly. My first instinct — as always — is to spring to Archer’s defense. A long-ingrained habit I can’t seem to break.
“Do you still love him?”
The question makes me flinch. “I’ve barely spoken to him in a year, Oliver!”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My lower lip is trembling. “When it comes to Archer and me… things are just… complicated.”
“Not complicated. Unfinished.”
“No, Ollie,” I say immediately, rejecting his gentle correction. “It’s over. It never even started, actually.”
“Just because you didn’t put a label on it doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. He may not have ever been your official boyfriend, but you gave him your heart all the same. He holds a piece of you in his hands. A piece I’ve spent a year wondering about.” He shakes his head sadly. “When I first met you, I could see how sad you were. How broken. I knew whatever guy came before me had done some serious damage. And I made it my mission to fix that damage. To repair what he’d broken. To bring back that light in your eyes.”
A tear slides down my cheek. “I know you did.”
“But it’s tough to be an antidote if you don’t know anything about the poison. I’ve done my best.”
Reaching across the table, I take his hand in mine. “You’ve done more than I ever deserved, Oliver. More than any other man would have, in your shoes.”
“As usual, you sell yourself short.”
“You’ve been so good to me.” My voice cracks. “If you want to leave… I’ll understand. I won’t hold it against you.”
He blinks. “Leave? Why would I leave?”
“I just thought… after hearing all that, you wouldn’t want…”
Me.
You wouldn’t want me anymore.
“I didn’t fly halfway around the world to break up with you, Josephine.”
“So it doesn’t disappoint you that I’m not a…” I falter on the word virgin.
“Disappoint me? No, it doesn’t disappoint me. If anything, it makes me a bit sad that we won’t get to experience our first times together. But I would never judge you for something you can’t change. That’s not who I am. I’d never leave you because of something you did long before we met. That’s not how I operate. Darlin’… I’m not going anywhere.” His brows lift swiftly, as though a thought has just occurred to him. “Unless that’s what you want?”
“No! No, I…” I swallow hard. “Of course I want you to stay.”
“It’s going to take a lot more than an ex-boyfriend to scare me off, Josephine. He can have your past. I want your future.” He squeezes my hand gently. “I want our future.”
My eyes fill with tears. I don’t know how to respond. “Oliver…”
Something in his expression changes. I see thoughts working behind his eyes; see a new sort of resolve settle into his features as he stares across the kitchen island at me. He gives a small nod, as though he’s made a decision, and clears his throat. “I was going to wait to do this. To find the perfect time. To plan some silly romantic moment with flowers and candlelight… But I just realized something. I don’t want to wait another second to start building a future with you. And I’m tired of carrying this around in my pocket like a pipe bomb, set to go off.”