“Yeah. We can walk back to the villa.”

I wave goodbye to my brother and Rue. Seeing them happy just cycled me through a lot of emotions, and my anger at Conor is…not forgotten, but set aside. Blunted to a dull pain that comes from defeat and resignation. From finally acknowledging that I’m going to move forward without him.

Maybe he was the love of my life. No, I am certain that he was. But happy endings are not the rule. Sometimes you give it your all, and things still don’t turn out well. Sometimes A for effort looks just like an F in a funhouse mirror.

It’s okay. I’ve survived a lot of bad shit, and I know the trick to pull through.

Breathe. Just breathe. And then breathe again.

“I’m gonna check out the follies,” I tell him once the Fiat has driven past us. “I know you were just trying not to worry Eli. You don’t need to stay.”

I wait for his face to flood with the relief that, for the first time in years, I’m not chasing him. I’m not flirting, or charming him, or attempting to lure him to my general proximity. But he’s still wearing those damn sunglasses. In the brightening light, I’m actually a bit envious.

“I have my phone with me, in case anything happens,” I add.

Conor says nothing. Moves closer, though, catching me off guard. I take an instinctive step back, even as my chin tilts up to him.

“Seriously,” I say. “It’s fine.”

Silence, and I frown, confused. I spy intent in the set of his jaw, serious determination in the angle of his cheekbone. But he’s looming, little room between us, and if only I could see his eyes, then maybe I would understand.

This feels like another game, and I’m all played out. “I’m sorry, Conor. I’m really tired, and frankly, I’d love to be alone for—”

He kisses me.

He leans forward. Takes my head in his warm hands. Then his lips are pressing against mine, and he kisses me.

It’s hard. And also sweet. Openmouthed and lingering and a little messy. And if someone had asked me to take a guess, to say what a kiss from Conor Harkness would be like, I would have described this one: endless, careful, deep. He coaxes my mouth into opening wider, then licks the inside of it like this is all he wants from me. I strain upward, all tendons and shaky muscles. Feel his body brush against mine, rock-hard, muscles and heat and safety, the scent of his skin mixing with the flowers in the air. Out of all the lucid dreams my brain could have conjured, this one is the cruelest. But I don’t wake up. He kisses me forever, and even when he stops, his hands stay around my face. In my hair.

I blink. The world is the same as it was before, but the corners are not quite as sharp. A kinder, gentler place, where breathing is easier.