Page 19 of Until August

With those words, he strode away, leaving only the taste of him lingering on my lips. My rebellious heart had deflated. I couldn’t understand why I would feel so bereft, but I did.

Guys like him, who had trouble written all over them, took your gift of free pistachios, stole your first kiss, and then walked away without a backward glance.

Cinnamon. He’d tasted like cinnamon gum.

And I never saw him again.

Until sixteen years later when he sat beside me in a little Vietnamese restaurant fifty miles south of LA.

“Earth to Nic.” I blinked up at Scarlett. She wore wide-legged jeans hand painted with flowers and a cropped sweatshirt smeared with paint. There were streaks of blue paint in her blonde hair.

I sat up, and she thrust a mug of coffee into my hands. “I have to paint these surfboards for Everly and Isla’s birthday. But I want to hear everything.”

Their birthday wasn’t until next month. “I can’t believe they're turning seven already.”

“I know. It feels like only yesterday that they were babies.” She laughed. “Dylan freaked out last week. There’s this boy at school that Isla is always talking about. I think they have a little crush on each other. And honestly, I don’t blame her. He’s adorable. So, anyway, over dinner one night, she said, ‘How old do I have to be to have sex? Like, twelve or something?’ Dylan almost choked on his pasta.”

I laughed, imagining the scene at the St. Clair dinner table. “Isla’s my soul sister. What did Dylan say?”

“Thirty-five.” She burst out laughing. “And he agonized over it all night. He’s still not over it that his precious daughter even knew about sex. He wanted to hunt down this ‘little punk’ who was putting thoughts into his baby girl’s head and give him a talking to. Can you imagine? The poor kid would be traumatized. I told him he was overreacting and just needed to calm down. And when we got to the bottom of it with Isla, it turns out that she thinks sex is just kissing.”

“Poor Dylan. He’s going to have his hands full in a few years.” Everly and Isla were already gorgeous. I could only imagine what they’d look like in their teens.

“Okay, tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out. I want to hear every single detail.”

I sat cross-legged on the sofa, drinking my coffee, and told Scarlett the whole story while she painted hibiscus flowers on a surfboard. I told her how we sat next to each other at the pho restaurant, and then last night, August tracked me down at my restaurant.

“I still can’t believe this,” she said, shaking her head. “Pistachio Guy was the gold standard for all your high school kisses. You compared every guy to him. If he only knew that he was the star of all your teenage fantasies.”

I groaned. “Don’t remind me. What an idiot. I spent five minutes with the guy, and I was completely infatuated. You should have punched me to knock some sense into my teenage brain.”

“Um, hello? Like I was any better. You’re talking to the girl who was obsessed with her sister’s boyfriend.”

“And now he’s your husband.”

“Mmm, yeah. God, he’s just… everything.” She had a dreamy little smile on her pretty face. It made me feel so small and petty for resenting my best friend’s perfect life, but lately, I did, and I couldn’t help myself.

“Sometimes dreams come true.” A wave of sadness washed over me. Once upon a time, my dreams had come true, too. When I met Cruz, I was only twenty-one, but I knew he was the one for me. It had all been so simple. So easy.

We fell in love. Got married. And we were happy.

It wasn’t perfect. We had our share of arguments, disappointments, and heartache through the years. But that was all part of being in a relationship. We always worked it out, and there was never a point in our marriage when we contemplated life without each other.

When times were tough, Cruz was always there to pick me up, support me, and encourage me. And just… to love me.

Nobody could have loved me better. Nobody ever had. Cruz was my soft place to fall. My port in the storm. And it was all taken away from me in the blink of an eye.

Now I couldn’t remember how it felt to be held in his arms.

I couldn’t remember the sound of his voice or his laughter.

I couldn’t remember his kisses or his scent.

What I wouldn’t give for just one more day, one more hour,one more momentwith him.

I let out a shuddering breath. “I miss him so fucking much, Scar. I just… I want him back. I want my life back.” Tears stung my eyes, and I felt hollowed out inside, like a dried-out husk of my former self.

“Oh, Nic.” Her voice was so soft that a lump formed in my throat, and I was on the verge of tears. She pulled me off the sofa and hugged me tightly.