It’s a bit of a cliché that lonely people get depressed around the holidays. The last three summers without Ben were the worst times of my life, much more difficult than I’d ever admit. Being alone in the season that belonged to us was like being bombarded with a million daily reminders of the happily-ever-after that was shattered the moment Ben tapped “submit” on that breakup post. But he didn’t just break up with me that day, he also from every commitment and attachment he had in Bodega Bay.

So, yes, I do feel bad that I’m suddenly pining for my ex again. I feel a little bad I’m making plans with Tyler for the Fourth of July while I’m feeling so conflicted about Ben. But I told Tyler from the beginning that I’m not looking for a serious relationship, so I don’t feel too guilty. Besides, it’s not as if I’ve gotten any vibes of seriousness from Tyler. He hasn’t even mentioned the rumors that Ben is back and following me around.

After Ben followed me to the beach last week, and the internet rumors about our reunion were immediately set aflame, I expected to at least get a text from Tyler asking if it’s true. I also expected to come home and find Ben flashing his abs at me every five seconds, the way he does in his music videos. But since that day at the beach, Tyler hasn’t mentioned Ben, and I’ve only seen Ben once, when I looked out the kitchen window and saw him in his backyard talking to a person I assumed was a landscaper.

The landscaper was probably there to clean up the jungle his dad has repeatedly apologized to my dad for over the past few weeks. Frank promised he would get it taken care of as soon as he got a reasonably priced estimate. Enter Ben and his millions of dollars to the rescue.

The meeting between Ben and the landscaper took place six days ago. Their backyard is now cleared of all weeds, the yellow grass is starting to turn green, and the shrubs are all trimmed back down to waist-height. I can see their concrete patio set again, the one where Ben and I made out countless times.

But still no sight of Ben or Frank in six days. And Ben hasn’t attempted to speak to me since that day at the beach, nine days ago.

It’s the Fourth of July, and I should be happy that Ben’s picked up on my resistance to his charms, so I can continue going on with my life as if he doesn’t exist. On the outside, I’m putting on a good show for Mason and my parents, and especially Michelle. But on the inside, I can’t help but wonder why I’m still not good enough to fight for.

I shake my head at this thought as I look in the silver mirror on my bedroom wall. It’s not that I’m not good enough. It’s that I’m too good for Ben, and he knows it.

Tugging a tissue out of the dispenser on my desk, I use it to wipe off the bright fuchsia lipstick I applied earlier. I put it on in case I ran into Ben on my way out of the house. I apply some strawberry lip balm instead and grab my purse off the hook on my bedroom door. Tyler should be here to pick me up soon.

Downstairs, I find my mom and dad in the kitchen, prepping burgers and steaks for the grill. My mom is wearing her usual summer outfit, which consists of a sleeveless polo and pastel-plaid pedal pushers. My dad wears his usual cargo shorts and a T-shirt displaying the name of one of the many local five- or ten-kilometer races he’s won in the last year.

I kiss my mom on the cheek. “I’m going to a barbecue with Tyler for a couple hours. Do you need us to pick up anything for the barbecue on the way back?”

“Oh, hey, sweetheart,” my mom says in her usual chipper voice. “No, your dad and I have everything covered. Just make sure you’re home by six. We want to eat and have a few drinks before we stroll down to the beach for the fireworks.”

I stare at her hands for a moment, watching her fingers massage the marinade underneath the skin on the chicken thighs. “Mom?”

“What, honey? Do you need some money?”

I take a slow breath. “No, I’m fine. I… I was just wondering if you invited Frank to the barbecue.”

Her hands stop massaging and she looks up at me curiously. “Oh, no. Is it going to be a problem to have Ben and Tyler here at the same time? I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

I’m stunned by this response. “Um… What? You invited Ben? Um… I just… don’t even know what to say, Mom. But you hate Ben.” I look to my dad for some assistance, but he continues forming burger patties as if he’s suddenly gone deaf. “Dad?”

My dad keeps his eyes focused on the meat as he shrugs. “I’m staying out of this. Mason said he made up with Ben a couple days ago. Ben is helping him with the court case and he’s taking care of his dad. I know he hurt you, possum, but we all make mistakes when we’re that young. He seems to be owning up to them, and I don’t want to upset Frank by not inviting them over. Frank has celebrated the Fourth with us every year for at least a decade.”

I blink. “Um… That’s what you call staying out of it?”

My mom heads to the sink to wash her hands. “Sweetheart, you can’t stay angry with Ben forever. It’s not good for you.”

I shake my head as my jaw hits the floor. “Un…believable,” I say, pausing as I try to recover. “Whatever. Is Hunter coming home today?”

My mom dries her hands on a kitchen towel and smiles at me. “Your brother’s staying in San Francisco to watch the fireworks at Pier 39 from the bay. I think they’re going out for a cruise on someone’s yacht.”

“Figures,” I reply, spinning on my heel. “Text me if you need anything. I’ll be back in about two hours.” I stop myself before I’m out of the kitchen, looking over my shoulder at my mom. “But I’ll be totally honest with you guys. If Ben’s here when I get back, I’ll probably just head straight to the beach.”

My mom flashes me a tight smile. “I understand. Have fun with Tyler, dear.”

“Thanks,” I reply, letting out a deep sigh as I head for the front door.

I wish it was possible to have fun with Tyler.

As I step outside and close the front door behind me, I make a concerted effort not to glance in the direction of Ben’s house as I make my way to the curb. But I’m a few feet from the street when I hear someone clear their throat.

My stomach instantly seizes up into a tight ball as I glance over my shoulder and see Ben coming down his front steps. “Stay right there, Ben,” I call out, turning to face him square on. “My boyfriend is on his way.”

Boyfriend? Did I really just call Tyler my boyfriend?

Ben’s eyebrows scrunch together. “What boyfriend? What’s his name?”

“None of your business. Just go home, Ben.”

He chuckles. “You really like telling me to go home, but I’m already home. And I just wanted to come and ask you if it’s okay for me to take my dad over to your house later. Mason invited us over last night. You know Mason came over last night, don’t you?”

“Just stop. This little diplomacy act might work on the rest of my family, but it’s not working on me.”

“Diplomacy?” he replies. “If you call trying to help my best friend get custody of his daughter diplomacy, then you’ve forgotten how close our families are. You can’t hide from me.”

“Hide from you? I’m not hiding from anyone. You’re the one who’s been holed up in that house ignoring me for nine days.”

Ben smiles and I mentally curse myself for being so fucking transparent. “So, you’ve been feeling ignored?” he says, taking a step toward me so he’s in my three-foot radius of personal space.

“That’s not what I meant,” I reply, taking a step back.

His smile fades away as he looks me up and down for a moment. “I wanted to call you…every single day for three years straight… You’re all I thought about, Char.”

A painful lump forms in my throat. “Stop,” I whisper.

He takes another step toward me. “You said you’d never doubt how much I loved you,” he says, his ocean-blue eyes locked on mine as he steps forward again.

I can hardly breathe. “I… I have to go,” I say, turning around to put more distance between us.

The moment I turn around, I inadvertently step off the curb. My purse goes flying as I throw out my hands to break my fall. But before I splatter myself across the sandy asphalt, Ben’s arm is around my waist, pulling me upright.

“Are you okay?” he asks urgently, his mouth touching the back of my ear. “Are you hurt?”

My skin prickles with goose bumps. “I’m fine,” I reply, breathless, but as I draw in a breath, I can smell that familiar scent of alcohol on his breath. “Let me go.”

The sound of tires rolling over the sandy road makes me whip my head to the right, where I see Tyler’s charcoal-gray BMW approaching.

“Let me go!” I demand, and Ben’s arms loosen around me instantly.

He beats me to my purse, though, crouching next to me as I stuff lip balm and a mirror back inside. “I guess I’ll see you at the beach later tonight, when you’re done pretending you’re not still mine.”

“No, you won’t,” I reply, sliding my purse onto my shoulder as Tyler’s car pulls into our driveway.

Ben stands on the curb, smiling as he watches me head toward the passenger door. But much to my chagrin, the driver’s side door opens and Tyler’s blonde head pops up as he gets out of the car to open the door for me, as usual.

“I’m fine. I can open the door myself,” I call out to him.

But when he turns toward me, I can see his eyes are locked on Ben. “Is that…?”

“Ben Hayes,” Ben calls out as he approaches the car. “Are you Charley’s boyfriend?”

I wince at his words, mortified when I look at Tyler and find he’s as surprised by that word as I was when I used it a minute ago. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a guy who happens to be a friend. Okay?”

God. First, I nearly fall flat on my face. Now, I’m caught lying about having a boyfriend. Can this encounter get any more embarrassing?

Ben shrugs. “Your words.”

Tyler looks back and forth between Ben and me. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’m missing something here.”

The sound of a door squeaking gets our attention and a guy who looks like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s enormous brother comes out of Ben’s house.

“I’m fine, Ponti,” Ben calls out to him.

“Just getting a little bored in there without your beautiful eyes to stare at. What’s going on out here?” Ponti replies in an unnaturally deep voice.

This must be Ben’s bodyguard. On especially lonely nights, I have found myself browsing Instagram to really cement my pathetic opinion of myself. Ponti looks like one of the few guys who’s always there in the group photos.

“Just saying hi to Charley’s new…friend?” Ben replies, cocking an eyebrow and flashing me a gushing smile when I flip him off.

“Let’s go, Tyler. We don’t want to be late,” I say, turning away from Ben so he can’t goad me on.

Tyler looks confused. “Is my little oyster not gonna introduce me to her famous ex?”

I cringe inside as I let out a heavy sigh. “Tyler, this is Ben Hayes. Ben, this is Tyler Bradford. Can we go now?”

But Tyler obviously has other plans as he makes his way around the back of the BMW toward Ben. “Hey, man. That new album is the shit.”

“You mean, the one I released two years ago?” Ben replies, and without looking at him I can hear the disdain in his voice.

Tyler nods, but something about the way he’s puffing his chest out as he walks toward Ben is making me nervous. Apparently, I’m not the only one, because Ponti immediately steps forward so he’s standing right next to Ben.

He holds up his hand, a signal for Ponti to hang back as he steps forward until six-foot-four, drunk Ben Hayes is nose-to-forehead with six-foot-two mayor’s son Tyler Bradford. A matchup that will likely be on the front page of TMZ if I don’t do something now.

“Are you harassing my girl?” Tyler asks, and I immediately rush toward them.

“You mean ?” Ben replies. “I’m pretty sure she just called you a friend.”

“What are you guys doing? You’re grown men. Stop it!” I shout, jostling my way between them, and I can’t help but notice that Tyler smells like the oysters he sells at their family fish market. He promised me he would change his clothes before he picked me up. I turn to Ben and he smiles as I poke my finger into his rock-hard chest. “I am not your girl.” Ignoring the feeling his sexy grin still stirs up inside me, I round on Tyler. “Or yours! We haven’t even had sex! You and your fish-funk can go to that barbecue alone.”

I march off down the concrete path toward our front door and Ben follows right behind me. When I look over my shoulder, I’m pleased to see Ponti shoot Tyler a look before he attempts to follow me, as well.

“Happy fucking Fourth of July!” Tyler shouts at me. “I didn’t want your damaged goods anyway!”

Ben darts toward the BMW as a panicked Tyler attempts to make it to the driver’s side door before him. Luckily, Ponti gets between them and holds Ben off as he instructs Tyler to get out of there as fast as he can. I shake my head as I watch Ben spitting insults at Tyler’s car as he drives away.

“And fuck you too!” he appears to shout at the sand dunes across the street.

Just when I’m beginning to think Ben may be off his rocker, the same paparazzo we saw at the beach — the fat guy with the ponytail and grease-stained T-shirt — emerges from behind the waist-high seagrass at the top of the dune with his middle finger raised in the air. Ponti maintains a firm grip on Ben to keep him from going after the photographer as he disappears behind the dune again, seemingly making his way back to the weasel-hole he came out of.

When the pictures of Ben and me at the beach hit the internet last week, I made Michelle block the offending websites in my browser using the parental filter. The need to know what people were saying about me was so strong, I actually considered wiping my hard drive and reinstalling the operating system to bypass the filter. But I didn’t.

Today’s confrontation would be even more sensational. I’d be surprised if it didn’t start trending on Twitter tonight.

I shake my head as a red-faced Ben walks toward me. “I hate you. Leave. Me. Alone.”