When I look up, his obnoxiously gorgeous face is twisted in an unfamiliar expression. Not pity, exactly, but not sadness. Something kinder. Empathy, I think. That wrinkle in his brow, the tenderness in his eyes, it’s like he understands exactly what it feels like to have your heart ripped out, your insides set on fire, when you lose a piece of your family forever.

“That’s incredible, Nikki. I bet that would make your dad so happy.”

I nod a thank-you. In the past it’s been so wrenching to talk about any of this. But speaking to Callum sets me at ease. How weird.

“Do you miss Portland?” he asks.

“A lot. Everything is so different there, from the quirky style of houses to the hipster food to the insane traffic and the nine months of rain. I never realized just how pleasant daily sunshine was until I moved to Maui.”

“Coming from England, it was a shock for me too.”

“I’m still getting used to it—and the number of hotels and resorts and vacation condos that seem to be everywhere,” I say. “Hopefully, I can go back to Oregon for a visit someday. I burned a lot of people I was close to when I moved though.”

“How do you mean?”

“When I got the news about my dad, I went into autopilot mode. The only thing that mattered was getting to Maui so I could be with him during treatment. I gave my notice at my job, packed my stuff, and left. I didn’t even say good-bye to most of my friends and coworkers. I just sent them texts telling them about what happened with my dad and that I had to leave right away. Most of them called to check up on me a few times the first few months I was gone, to ask if I was okay and if there was anything they could do for me. I never followed up with them. I’ve never even called them back to catch up or say hello. It was pretty cruel, looking back on it.”

This is the first time I’ve admitted all of this out loud, and it still makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I was the world’s worst friend.

“It’s been over a year since I’ve talked to any of my friends on the mainland,” I say quietly.

Callum shakes his head. “Nikki.”

The sound of my name spoken in his soft, low tone is made melodic by his accent and sends a tingle through me.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You had a family emergency and had to act quickly. I’m sure they understood.”

“I’ll never know.”

“You can reconnect with them. People get back in touch all the time nowadays.”

“Maybe.” Maybe someday when things are secure, I’ll have time for friends again.

“You should consider it,” he says softly.