When I bend down to pick it up, she kicks off the other.

It’s not funny but I nearly laugh.

I can’t help but appreciate her dedication to reminding me how little she needs me.

I slide onto the car, the rocks dividing us.

This part of the beach is nearly always deserted, save an occasional flurry of kids searching for sea glass or chasing their runaway dog.

Autumn reaches into the pile, flings a stone into the water. I track it, watch it plop and disappear below.

And it occurs to me just how much time we’ve spent here.

On the water.

In the sand.

Listening to the waves like a favorite song.

She makes a face when I steal one of her rocks. I hurl it as hard as I can, but I lose it in the sun.

“Autumn, I’m sorry,” I say finally.

Because it’s true.

Because the only thing worse than her being angry with me is her being angry with me while with me.

A few more rocks sail from her hand.

“What are you sorry for?”

And I nearly say everything. But this is a moment for specificity.

“For how I behaved on the beach. For being an idiot. For making you feel like I’m taking you for granted.” I scoot closer. “Because the thing is, I don’t take you for granted. Every day, I wonder how long before you realize how far out of your league I am.”

“You know I hate when you say stuff like that.” She shakes her head. “There are no leagues. There’s you and there’s me and we’re both here. And either we’re here together or we’re not, Jamal. That’s it.”

I nod. “No, you’re right,” I say. “But can I ask you something?”

She shrugs.

“Have you ever felt like I didn’t love you?”

She turns toward me. Looks me right in my face. “Have you ever felt like telling me?”

“What? Yes. Of course, but . . .”

“But what, Jamal? There should be no buts.”

She turns away, back to lake-gazing.

“It’s not that I don’t feel that way about you. Because I do. I do hard. You’re . . .” I reach for her arm, expecting her to jerk away, and she does move, but slowly, like she’s deciding how it feels, considering it. “Autumn, you’re my person. And I hate that I made you feel anything less than amazing, because that’s how I feel when I’m with you. Because that’s how I feel about you. Honestly, I’m not even sure I knew what love was until you came along.”

“Don’t be stupid. What about your parents? Whit?”

“I mean, yeah, but . . .”

“And you loved Q, right?”

“I guess. Maybe.”

“Why’s it so hard for you to admit what’s in your heart?”