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“Do you even regret what you did?” I whisper, letting the words flow into the breeze like a special correspondence. “Because to you, it might have been one minuscule conversation before the rest of your actual life started, but my world ended when you told me you never loved me.”

She stops walking and looks up at me, her eyes glassy. “Of course I regret it. What kind of person do you take me for?”

“The kind of person who would rip my heart out in the middle of the airport and never look back. That’s the only memory I’ve had of you since it happened.

It plays on repeat because I couldn't fathom how someone I loved with every fiber of my being could do that to me.

I couldn't fathom the girl I thought I was going to marry would break my heart and leave.”

“I had to do it, Henry. I wouldn't have dragged you to England because you would have been miserable, but you would have been equally miserable doing long-distance. We both had careers to focus on. It would have been too much. I thought it was the right decision for us, but every time I look back on it and see your face, I second-guess myself.”

I shake my head at her, invading her personal space. “You didn't have to do that, Amelia! There were so many other options, and we could have made it work. I would have made anything work for you, and I don’t know how you didn't know that.”

“We would have both been unhappy.” She shrugs her shoulders.

“You couldn't have known that. You made the decision for the both of us, and you didn't even bother asking me how I felt. You just did what you always do and assume you’re not worth the effort, but I would have stood by you.

The fact that you didn't understand that makes me question how real our relationship was. Did you even love me back then, or were all those whispers in the silence of the night as you slept against my shoulder a lie?”

A single tear falls from her eye as she looks at me. “You are the only person I’ve ever loved, and what I did doesn't negate that, no matter how much you might want it to. But I did what I had to do, Henry, and it was what was best for the both of us.”

“For you, Amelia,” I remind her. “It was what was best for you. For some reason, you think it’s all a choice—love or success. You can have both. It’s not going to kill you if you have both of those things.”

And then, I see it. I see the necklace I bought her still resting around her neck, tucked underneath her floral midi dress flowing with the breeze.

She still wears it. Why does she still wear it?

“I’m not sure I deserve either of those things anymore. ”

“Don't say that.”

“Why? I’m a horrible person. I let people get close to me, only to leave them when I see fit.

I play with people's feelings and use their fears against them. I disappear, only to come back whenever I want. I never let anyone truly in to see who I am because I’m sure they’ll see the same thing I do—that I’m a horrendous, mean, jaded person. ”

She’s saying these things, but for some reason, it doesn't feel like she actually believes them. I sigh heavily as I finish my drink and set my glass in the sand. “You were all of those things, Amelia.” I run a hand through my hair. “But you’re also secretly soft. And once upon a time, we used to share headphones. You would speak to me through music, and for those few minutes, I felt like I knew you. You just have to stop running, for once in your life, Amelia.”

“I’m trying,” she whispers. I take a step back. I feel like I just got grounded after being up in the air for the few minutes we were talking.

“Why do you still wear my necklace?”

Her lips part; I’m sure she wasn't expecting me to ask her that. “Because it’s my favorite, and it calms me down when I feel…”

“When you feel what, Amelia?”

She locks eyes with me. “When I feel anxious. It helps me, Henry, because you bought it for me, and it’s the nicest gift I’ve ever received from someone.”

Why the hell does she still wear it after all this time? A thought enters my mind and lingers, but there’s no way it can be true. Amelia is not still in love with me. You don’t treat the people you love how she has, but then why keep the necklace I bought her?

Suddenly, I’m jolted back to when I first put it around her neck, her eyes shining at me in the mirror as I latched it on.

Amelia isn't one for many emotions, but her eyes always told me all I needed to know.

I thought buying her jewelry at first was a bad idea because of how specific she is.

She wears the same rings every single day, and she doesn't have her ears pierced, so earrings were out.

She also hates the way bracelets feel on her wrists, so I decided on a necklace with some special meaning—a windmill because of my nickname for her. Mills.

The first time I called her that, it sort of slipped out, and it stuck. Then, I got her the necklace, and she never took it off, a constant reminder of the two of us hanging around her neck.

“A necklace? Is this to show everyone I’m yours?”

“No, Mills. This is just between us, like a secret that hangs around your neck. Nobody else needs to know what it means except us.”

“I love it, Hen. And I love you.”

God, it felt so easy back then—loving her.

Before I can stop myself, I kiss her. Because in the moonlight, here on this beach, she’s wearing my necklace, and we’re finally talking about all our shit.

As soon as our lips touch, it’s a shock, but eventually, we both give in, and I’m catapulted back to when I could kiss her simply because she was mine.

It feels just how it used to—her soft skin beneath my touch, goosebumps all over her neck as I cup my hand around her neck and pull her closer. I need to be closer. I need to be able to reach into her mind and somehow figure out why she killed us back then.

Because her lips were always meant to be on mine, and this is proof of it. But she’s not mine, not anymore, and the two of us should not be doing this.

I pull back just as she starts to melt into me, and the breeze flows between us as I take a few steps back.

Why the fuck did I just do that? It’s going to make everything so much more complicated. I didn't even get the answers I was hoping for tonight. We talked, but we didn't really discuss everything. The two of us aren't going to fix our shit in one night.

Why did I do that? Why did I fucking kiss the girl who destroyed me?

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done that. ”

She says nothing as she simply looks at me, shock and confusion written across her features.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say as I walk away.

I don’t bother looking back.

Henry just kissed me.

Henry Hayes—the boy I used to know and love—just kissed me on the beach as we talked about our past.

I’m not sure where we go from here. I’m not sure what he wants from me. Hell, I’m not sure what I want from him. All I want to do is clear the air and apologize, but there’s some part of me that feels uneasy, knowing after we talk about all this, we’ll both go our separate ways.

I didn't lie when I told him he was the only person I ever loved. That’s still the truth.

He was the only guy I let in enough to love me, to see who I really was beneath my harsh exterior.

I used to be really good at keeping people out, but now, after all I’ve done and been through, it’s harder to build my walls back up.

I don’t want to. I want people to see me. I’m tired of hiding.

When I used to let Henry see the real me, he never judged me. He got my weird, dry sense of humor, and not once did he try to change who I was .

He was the first person to truly understand me besides the girls. Sometimes, I didn't even let them all the way in. Henry truly smashed my reinforcements to pieces as I tried to keep us strictly in the friend zone.

But one night, it all changed. When the break-in happened back in college and I realized he was the only person I needed beside me, something shifted between us.

Tonight, I felt that same shift when he touched his lips to mine.

My hand moves up to my lips, still feeling the ghost of him there, wishing I took more time to savor the feeling, because it might be the last time I feel that with someone—with him.

By some miracle, could Henry and I actually work things out and be together? Could we get back to where we once were? Is that something I want? Is that something he wants?

I have more questions than answers, and I know for sure I’m going to have to think about what all of this means. For now, I’m going to sit down, listen to the waves, and think about what it would feel like to love someone again.

Is that delusional of me? Probably. But if I can imagine loving someone again, maybe that means I’m not totally unlovable. Maybe I’m not going to end up alone forever like my parents thought. Maybe that means I deserve to be happy, even if I’m still working through my own shit.