“If you can brave the heat, I guess I can too,” Ray groused good-naturedly.
Bea nearly exhaled audibly. He just wanted to avoid the heat! He didn’t want—
Me. She made herself finish the thought. He didn’t want me.
Well, good. He was engaged to another woman. Nothing could happen, even if he did want her. Which he didn’t, so. That was that.
Bea hit the button to confirm her cab. Their driver would arrive in seven minutes.
* * *
—
The party was just a touch on the wrong side of fun—everyone a little too drunk, a little too hot, quippy comments that otherwise would have made for light banter landing somewhere closer to ornery, tempers running thick and foul, the heat hanging darkly even after the sun went down.
“Who’s this tall drink of water?” Bea’s friend Mark asked with a leer.
“He’s Ray, and he’s straight,” Bea snapped.
“But not narrow.” Ray winked, flirting—as he always did, with everyone, making every person he ever talked to feel special, when the truth was that no one ever was.
“Excuse me, I need another drink.” Bea rolled her eyes and flounced off to refill her glass of punch. Why had she wanted to come to this party? Why had she wanted to see Ray in the first place? After so many years of missing him so much, she thought seeing him would feel good, but it was awful. Just an acutely painful reminder of how much she still wanted him, and how completely he would never, ever be hers.
“Hey, are you okay?” Ray came up behind her, a hand at her waist. She jumped away, the contact too close, too intimate.
“Don’t do that,” she chided.
But he reached for her again. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Above them, the first firework exploded—flashes of green and gold, and appreciative gasps all around them as everyone looked skyward. But not Ray. His eyes were trained on Bea.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he said firmly, but there was a note of desperation there. “I know you’re not fine. Bea, I’m not either.”
Cracks and booms echoed around them, red and blue and silver, as he circled her wrists with his fingers.
“Bea…”
She shook her head. “Ray, what are you doing?”
He pulled her closer. “You know what I’m doing.”
His fingers were grazing up her forearms, her biceps, her shoulders, his hands were in her hair. She heard him ask “Is this okay?” and it wasn’t, it fucking wasn’t, he knew it wasn’t, but she felt her head nodding as if a puppeteer were bobbing it with unseen string, and then he was kissing her. It was so intense, his body pressed against hers, his hands pulling her face closer and closer, his teeth nipping at her lips, and she couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t care, and when he said, “Can we go home now?” she nodded again. This time, with agency. With intent.
The car ride was unbearable, his hands on her thighs, standstill traffic on the 101. When they finally got to her house, she thought they wouldn’t even make it to the bed; he threw her against the wall so hard and ripped the damn dress off her. No one had ever wanted her that much. She was so confused, even as it was happening—had he always wanted this? Why hadn’t it happened sooner, when they lived in the same place, when he was single, all those years that she was so in love?
It doesn’t matter, she told herself. He’s here now. After all this time, he’s here.
He was on top of her, kissing her gently, and a smile lit up her whole face.
“What is it?” he asked, smiling too.
“Nothing.” Her heart swelled, the joy of the moment so expansive it was almost painful. “I’m just really, really happy.”
“Me too.” He kissed her again, and she breathed in his reassurance. “Bea, you’re all I’ve wanted.”
TEXT MESSAGE TRANSCRIPT, JULY 5:
BEA SCHUMACHER & RAY MORETTI
Ray [7:23am]: Hey
Ray [7:23am]: Are you up?
Ray [7:24am]: Sorry I didn’t wake you before I left
Ray [7:26am]: On my train now, should be in San Diego around 10, and then it’s a lot of brunches and things with Sarah’s folks
Ray [7:27am]: But I’ll call you later?
Bea [1:31pm]: Ok
JULY 8
Bea [9:25am]: Hi
Ray [9:28am]: Hey
Bea [9:29am]: You never called the other night
Bea [9:29am]: I really think we should talk
Ray [9:31am]: Oh yeah
Ray [9:31am]: Things got really busy
Ray [9:32am]: This week is crazy, let me get back to you
TEXT MESSAGE TRANSCRIPT, JULY 8:
BEA SCHUMACHER & MARIN MENDOZA
Marin [9:33am]: “Let me get back to you”?!?!?!?!?!
Marin [9:33am]: No
Marin [9:34am]: No
Marin [9:34am]: I’m sorry
Marin [9:34am]: No
Marin [9:34am]: He did not say that to you!!!!
Bea [9:36am]: He…did
Marin [9:36am]: What did you say?
Bea [9:37am]: Nothing. I didn’t say anything
Bea [9:37am]: I don’t know what to say to him
Marin [9:38am]: What do you want to say?
Bea [9:41am]: I don’t know, hi Ray, I think we’ve loved each other for almost a decade, even though it was always some new excuse for why you had to live in some new city, be with some new girl, and now you’re engaged, but when we slept together it felt like my whole life suddenly clicked into place, like maybe my story was finally ending, or starting, or something, and then you just left like you always do, because you’re a coward, but I love you anyway. And I wish I didn’t. And I wish you’d just come back.