For the second time that morning, I wipe at my face, clearing away the misery. “Sounds perfect, actually.” This is one of my favorite things about these two. They’re not much for letting me smother myself in pity. We’ve all got our shit. They move for the door and I offer to pack some lunch in a cooler while they run home to change and grab the kayaks.

“Don’t forget sunblock,” Maren says, ever the girl scout. “It’s gonna be in the sixties today. Pure vitamin D, baby.”

They leave, and I head upstairs to change. On my bed, my phone is lit where I left it. My heart jumps, but it’s only the director, Steve, with last-minute details. Cameron has already responded with a thumbs-up.

SHELBY: Thanks, Steve. See you all tomorrow.

I sigh and wait a full minute to see if Cameron responds, even though I don’t know why he would.

I just want him to try.

That evening, I’m completely wrung out from a day on the water. I get Alexa to play me something soft and melodic and crawl under my covers with a cup of tea and a romance novel before turning the lights down low. I end up sitting in the quiet, holding the book, still closed, on my lap. While kayaking, I buried myself in the work of propelling through the waterways, relishing the burn in my shoulders and the sun on my skin. I let Maren and Lorelai distract me from tomorrow and my not-quite-relationship woes. It was exactly the right thing to clear my head. But now that I’m alone, it’s flooding back to the forefront of my mind. Particularly the argument between Cameron and me.

Because Lorelai’s right. Cameron didn’t really leave me. Instead, he returned to me, again and again. It’s not perfect, but it’s a starting point.

I’m self-aware enough at twenty-seven to acknowledge I deserve someone who will try, someone who will stay. And I can admit that Cameron Riggs deserves someone who will give him a real chance to prove himself either way. Our fight stung, and my pride took a hit at the rejection, one that is going to take some time to get over, but I’m secure enough in myself to know I will get over it. And if Cameron can get over it, too, maybe we can make this work.

Clearly, jumping into a kiss-slash-wall-fuck wasn’t the best approach. We’re a little rusty at things, I imagine. After all, we dated a decade ago, and even that was more like covert sneaking around than an actual relationship. We were babies, practically, and while young relationships can last forever, they usually have the benefit of two people growing together. Cameron and I grew up on our own terms. We don’t really know each other anymore.