“I’ve got to go now,” he says. “But I’ll be back to take you to the airport in the morning.”

My chest seizes, a terrible little intrusion of reality once again. “You can’t stay?”

“No. But I’ll be back. I’ll drive you. Your flight’s at nine?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll pick you up at quarter to seven.”

I’m waiting with my bags in front of the hotel at quarter to seven, and Kai’s on time. He loads my luggage in the back of his truck and we’re off. It’s a quiet drive to the airport. I sit close to him in his truck, and he rests his right hand on my leg, my fingers curled into his.

I feel so brave as I stare straight ahead. I can do this. I can go home and get on with my life, taking home with me everything I’ve learned in the past five days.

I can.

I can.

At the airport he parks next to the curb, and it isn’t until he climbs from his truck and lifts my suitcases from the back that I realize how different this is from how I arrived. I arrived in Honolulu and was met by a limousine. I step now from a pickup truck.

Airport police monitor the traffic, motioning drivers on, and I see them watch as Kai sets my suitcases on the pavement.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, stepping back, hands sliding into his pockets.

I nod, tuck loose hair behind my ear. I haven’t flat-ironed it in days. It’s thick and wavy and has new sun streaks from the salt and sun. “I did.”

“Think you’ll go home and be happy?” His gaze meets mine, and his mouth curves, vaguely rueful. “Happier?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” He suddenly reaches out, smooths another tendril back from my cheek. “Don’t settle, Jacqueline. Whatever you do when you get home, don’t settle.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Not good enough.”

I want to take his hand. I want to hold it tight, hold on, because I suddenly don’t think I’ll ever see him again and I can’t bear it, can’t stand to think someone who was so good to me, someone who made me feel so good about myself, someone who gave me courage to be myself, is about to disappear. And I know it’s me leaving, but it doesn’t matter that I’m going and he’s staying because it’s another loss and I’m not ready for another. I was just starting to enjoy feeling so good.

“I better go.” I speak quickly, almost sharply, as I reach for the handle on one of my suitcases. “The security line could be long.”

He jams his hands deep in his pockets. A small muscle pulls in his jaw.