“Coffee, ma’am?” asked waiter number one as waiter number two cleared our dessert plates. I didn’t even care about the “ma’am”. He could have said, “Yo, bitch, want some coffee?” and I would have smiled at him in the same dreamy way that I did.

“No, thank you,” I said, completely content and not wanting to taint what had been a perfect meal.

“Sir?”

“No, thank you. You’ve charged this to the room?” Josh asked.

“Yes, sir. I’ll just get the check, so you can sign it.”

“Thank you.”

We held hands across the table while we waited. “That was incredible,” I said. “Thank you so much for organising it.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Did you choose the menu?” I hadn’t even thought about it until that moment.

“No, it was the chef’s choice, but I have to say, it was way better than anything I could have imagined.”

“Mmm.”

The waiter returned with the check, and Josh added a generous tip and signed it, handing it back with a smile.

“Thank you for looking after us so well,” I said, standing up. I felt a little giddy from the bubbles, or maybe from the way Josh had been looking at me all night. He took my hand and we walked slowly back to our room, for the last time.

I had packed that afternoon, laying out my clothes for the plane in the bathroom. My flight was so early, I wouldn’t get to eat breakfast until I got to Honolulu.

Whatever Josh and I had to say to each other before parting, we had to say it that night.

Our last time together—at least for the Hawaii trip, I hoped—was sweet and tender and completely different from the night before on the beach. Josh had come to know how to bring my body to the brink and beyond, and afterwards, I collapsed onto him, spent both physically and emotionally. I lay with my head on his chest while he twisted my curls around his fingers.

“I’m going to miss you too,” I whispered, finally replying to what he’d said at the crater.

I felt him take in a big breath and I lifted my head. I wanted to see his face. His fingers abandoned my hair and he slipped his hand behind his head and rubbed his neck. I could tell from his expression that he was feeling conflicted; I’d seen that exact face quite a few times over the week.

“What?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

He sighed again and my stomach clenched. Eventually, he spoke. “I know that you want to know what’s going to happen next with us. You deserve to know that.” I sat abruptly and pulled the sheet up to cover my nakedness, as though it could protect me from his words.

“But?” I asked. Out with it, Josh.

“But the truth is, I don’t know.”

I clenched my teeth as I willed myself not to cry and not to ruin such a beautiful, perfect night. Only it wasn’t me who was ruining it. It was Josh. I wanted to tell him to stop talking so I could pretend it was all okay—that it was perfectly normal to want someone who wasn’t quite sure if he wanted you back.