I admit I’ve lived a charmed life, growing up with two protective brothers and two university professors for parents. The first eleven years of my life were spent in the sheltered safety of the suburbs of Petaluma, California. When my father was granted tenure, after twenty years at Sonoma State University, he opted to migrate two of his psychology courses to the extension program, so he could teach remotely as an adjunct professor.

My mother and father’s dream has always been to live by the beach, and my mother was all too eager to give up her criminology professorship in favor of starting a part-time consulting business. She met Mayor Bradford and his wife Christine through work she did for the Sonoma County Sheriff’s office.

Since moving to Bodega Bay, my dad went from working eleven- to twelve-hour days, six days a week, to working three to six hours, four days a week. They’re practically retired, but they make enough to live a comfortable coastal lifestyle. Not quite comfortable enough to bail out my failing business. Though, I suspect that has more to do with their desire to teach me a lesson than their financial situation.

I walk across Beach Avenue and climb over the sand dunes, which protect the homes on our street from the majority of the harsh ocean breeze. As I reach the top of the sandy hill, the seagrass tickling my thighs, I’m pleased to see our stretch of beach is not swarming with tourists yet. Of course, it’s only 8:15 p.m. The sun will set around 8:30 today, which will bring the crowds to watch the fireworks show commencing around nine p.m.

As I cut through the sandy path in the seagrass leading down to the beach, I breathe a sigh of relief that Ben is nowhere to be seen. But my relief is short-lived when I see Frank sitting in a beach chair next to my mom and dad. And propped up in the sand next to his chair is a green oxygen tank.

I try taking deep breaths as I walk across the warm sand, trying to stifle the tears, but I’m completely unsuccessful. I contemplate turning around and heading back to the house until I can pull myself together. But when I stop in the sand, preparing to head back, Mason bends over to grab a beer out of the cooler and spots me.

His smile widens as he heads over. “You look like you need one of these,” he says, handing me a frosty amber bottle of lager.

I laugh when he snatches the bottle back and uses the opener on his keychain to pop off the top, then hands it back. “Thanks,” I say, then I chug a few long, spicy gulps. “I… didn’t expect to see Frank…like that.”

He glances at Ben’s dad and shakes his head. “Yeah, it threw me for a loop, too. It’s, like…seeing that makes it real, you know?”

I nod. “Where’s Gracie?”

He’s silent for a moment, assessing me before he replies. “She’s with Ben, over there in the tide pools,” he says, nodding toward the rocks about sixty meters away.

My tears stop instantly and I take another gulp of beer. “How could you?”

Mason leans his head back, the waning sunlight catching on his dark-brown wavy hair. “I knew this was gonna blow up in my face, but you have to understand what kind of position I’m in here,” he says, the hazel eyes we inherited from my mother pleading with me to have mercy on him. “I can’t lose Gracie. And…I believe him.”

I shake my head. “Believe him? Believe what? What are you talking about?”

He narrows his eyes at me then shakes his head. “Nothing. I just… I believe there’s more to this…breakup stuff. More than we know.”

“He told you? He won’t tell me, but he told you?”

“No! He didn’t tell me. He just… He said that…”

My jaw slowly drops open as I wait for him to continue. “What? What did he say?”

He chuckles at my impatience. “He said something that made sense. He said that you two were together for six years and he never hurt you until the day he broke up with you. He said it doesn’t make sense that he would all of the sudden purposely hurt you for no reason at all. There had to be a reason. And since we know you didn’t do anything to deserve that, the reason has to be the same reason why he never hurt you for all those years. Because he loves you.’”

I cock an eyebrow. I want to say, “And you believed that?” but I hold my tongue. I know Mason needs to believe whatever he needs to believe for Gracie’s sake.

He walks with me toward the group. “It makes sense, Charley. What doesn’t make sense is that he suddenly stopped caring about you.”

I take another swig and nod. “That’s because reality makes no sense at all,” I say, motioning toward the oxygen tank. “Reality is a cruel joke.”

I round the row of four beach chairs and manage to barely control my emotions when I see the clear tubes snaking around the tank and up into Frank’s nostrils. “Happy Fourth of July, Frank,” I say, going in for a hug, an involuntary whimper leaking from my mouth when I feel the sharpness of his shoulder-blades through his checkered button-up.

He laughs when I hold on a bit too long. “I’m not dying tomorrow, kiddo.”

I chuckle as I let go. “I know,” I say, turning away to face the ocean as I wave off his joke. “I’m just happy to see you.”

“Sweetheart?” my mom calls to me gently.

I draw in a deep breath and wipe away the fresh tears before I turn around, wearing a brave grin. “I’m fine,” I say to my mom. “I’m going to see Allie after my appointment tomorrow. Do you need me to pick up anything while I’m there?”

My dad flashes me a sympathetic smile. “Can you pick me up some of those candied peanuts, possum?”

“Sure thing, Dad,” I reply, turning to Frank. “Do you need anything?”

“From Frisco?” he replies. “Not unless you can get your hands on the new Cintiq.”

“How much is it?” I ask, though I know the digital art tablets Frank uses cost thousands of dollars. Not exactly a gift I can afford.

He laughs. “No way. I can buy it myself. It’s just that it’s backordered online. There’re rumors they have some at a couple shops in the city, but I’m not supposed to be driving anymore.”

“I’ll get you one,” I insist as I silently consider creating another Instagram account so I might snag a couple more summer weddings to cover the cost.

“I can give you a check. Actually,” he says, glancing toward the rocks, where Ben and Gracie are still gleefully playing in the tide pools. “My son can cover the cost. He’s got some dues to be paid.”

I shake my head adamantly. “I don’t want his money.”

Frank’s gaunt, wrinkled face is still surprisingly well-tanned despite the fact I haven’t seen him outside in weeks. He smiles at my refusal to take Ben’s funds. “I went through the same thing. Didn’t want nothing to do with the money he made dancing around on that stage, hurting the people he claims to love.” He stares in Ben’s direction for a moment, then surrenders to a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” I fret, my stomach vaulting when I see him spit out a blood-streaked dollop of phlegm into the sand.

“Sorry. Better out than in,” he replies. “Anyway, it took a bit of convincing for him to tell me what the hell was going through his head when he broke your heart.”

“He didn’t break my heart,” I say, sitting down on a towel in front of the beach chairs.

Frank smiles as he leans back. “He had a good reason. A reason that… Well, let’s say I’ve always had my regrets about how I raised Ben, especially after his mom died. Even more regrets now, but there’s something to be said for knowing the truth. It really does…make you realize you can’t always protect the ones you love from getting hurt. No matter how hard you try.” He glances toward my dad, then back to me. “I’m no psychologist, like your dad. I’m just a lowly comic book artist who desperately wanted his kid to grow up to be a superhero. I don’t know much, but I know my son loves you. I’ll leave this world knowing that with every crotchety cell in my tumor-filled body.”

“Stop that,” I croak, pulling up the neckline of my tank top to wipe tears from my cheeks.

He laughs and holds his beer bottle in the air. “Happy Fourth of July. Can we get some music out here? And none of Ben’s stuff. I hate that pop shit.”

“What’s so funny?”

I whip my head around at the sound of Ben’s voice, then glance at all the guilty faces, which were all laughing at Frank’s joke just a second ago.

Ben is carrying Gracie in his arms, and I’m almost surprised to find that the beach has begun to fill up around us. There are at least four new groups of beachgoers setting up umbrellas and portable barbecue grills nearby. Despite there being an empty beach chair and two other striped towels laid out on the sand, Ben sets Gracie down and takes a seat on the other half of the towel I’m sitting on.

“What’s so funny, Char?” he asks again in that smooth voice that I always attributed as one of the many factors in his success.

Gracie comes right up to me and tilts her bucket so I can see inside. “Look, Auntie! I’m a firework!” she squeals.

I laugh, partly because I don’t know what she means by this, but also because the tiny crab in her bucket makes me nervous as she tilts it over my crotch. “Look at that crab! Did you catch that?”

She shakes her head and her brown, sun-kissed curls bounce around as she points at Ben. “Uncle Ben catch-ed it.”

“Uncle Ben?” I repeat the title and try not to roll my eyes as Ben nudges my shoulder.

“That’s right, Auntie. Uncle Ben catch-ed it,” he says proudly. “But Gracie helped me, ’cause she’s a firework.”

Without any further prompting, Gracie begins singing “” by Katy Perry at the top of her squeaky voice. As I watch her belt out the first two lines word-for-word, my heart is ready to burst. Until Ben joins in, and I’m dead.

They finish the line about the Fourth of July, and I cover my mouth as she continues singing the chorus. When they stop at the end of the first chorus, I immediately break down in tears and take her into my arms.

“That was beautiful, baby,” I whisper into her hair.

She squeezes my arm with her chubby fingers as if she’s trying to comfort me. “Uncle Ben taught me.”

“You sing like an angel,” I say, letting her go and quickly using my already-damp neckline to wipe my tears.

Ben leans in and whispers in my ear, “You look beautiful when you cry.”

“Yeah, you should have seen me the past three years,” I reply automatically, then I sigh as I turn to face him. “I guess I’m just a firework.”

He laughs. “Gracie’s a firework. You’re a nuclear explosion.”

My mouth drops open in shock at this insinuation.

“I mean that in the absolute best way possible,” he clarifies. “I don’t deserve for you to make this easy. Not yet, at least.”

I stare into his blue eyes and think of Frank’s words. I don’t know what he knows. Maybe I never will. But I know Frank, and the Frank I know would never lie to me. The question is: Has the threat of imminent death changed Frank into someone who would do Ben’s bidding?

I think of Mason’s words, and the implication that it doesn’t make sense for Ben to suddenly stop caring about me. It also doesn’t make sense for Frank to suddenly start lying.

What if it’s all true? What if Ben really did break up with me to protect me?

As if he can hear my thoughts, Ben pulls me into his arms. And for the first time in three years, in front of the people I love most in this world, I finally allow myself to be vulnerable.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything,” he murmurs into my hair as he tightens his warm, solid arms around me. “When the time comes, you’ll be the first to know.”

I nod as I slowly release him and look around at our families’ smiling faces. “Okay.”

He stares at me for a while, his gaze roaming over my every feature before he breaks into a gorgeous smile and nods toward the water. “Take a walk with me?”

I swallow hard as I imagine myself standing on the precipice of a sea-cliff. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Char, you know me. I’m still the same person I was three years ago. I just—” He stops himself and pauses before he continues. “I’m just ready to fight back now. I’m ready to fight for you. For us.”

“Why weren’t you ready three years ago?” I hold up my hand. “Wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.”

He shakes his head, looking disappointed in himself. “I was afraid of what would happen to you. But I know now that I had nothing to be afraid of. I’m still going to try to protect you from this. But if this…thing gets away from me, I know how strong you are now. Even without me here, you started your own business. You’re helping Mason take care of Gracie. You’re…a nuclear explosion. You’re a force to be reckoned with, and I fucking love that about you.”

A warm sensation spreads outward from the pit of my belly all the way out to my fingers and toes. I recognize it as that feeling you get in Ben’s presence. Everyone who knows Ben feels it. He’s always been good at making people feel special.

This magical spell he casts on everyone is not disingenuous, but it makes it very easy for him to get what he wants. Is that what this is? Has Ben used his irresistible charm on my family? Is he using it on me now?

But the warm feeling doesn’t go away. As he gazes into my eyes with that eager expression, the feeling only grows. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

I swallow my cynicism and sigh. “Okay, we can take a walk after the fireworks. But don’t try anything.”

His full lips spread into a cheesy grin as the warm, salty air sizzles with possibility. As he grabs my hand and places a lingering kiss on my knuckles, a loud popping sound explodes offshore, followed by a piercing squeal as the first firework shoots into the sky. Gracie gasps and I pull her into my lap as we all look up. A loud boom makes Gracie flinch and I hold her tighter as a magnificent display of fiery red embers explodes above us.

As the embers sparkle and fade, Ben lays a soft kiss on my bare shoulder. For a split second, I have that familiar sensation I sometimes get when I’m about to fall asleep, as if I’m falling into the earth at a million miles an hour. It only lasts a second, but it’s enough to fill me with dread.

Closing my eyes, I bury my nose in Gracie’s curls and inhale the scent of her baby shampoo. I try to breathe in some of her innocence and blind trust. As I open my eyes to find Ben watching me instead of the fireworks, I can’t help but think of the first time I lay on the dirt floor of the Sky-House to watch the stars with him, which was the first time Frank found out about us. No one knew Ben and I carried on a secret romance for the first three years of our relationship, except for Frank.

Apparently, Frank is the only one who knows the truth about why Ben broke up with me, and my parents trust Frank a lot. He didn’t go easy on Ben after the breakup. In fact, Ben and his father were mostly estranged for the last three years, which makes Ben’s return and Frank’s willingness to forgive and believe him that much more convincing.

I kiss Gracie’s soft forehead, then stand up and take her to her daddy. “We’re just going for a walk. I’ll be right back.”

Mason grins as he hoists Gracie onto his shoulders. “Hey, I know you think I’m going easy on him because of what he’s doing for Gracie and me, but it’s more than that. I mean… You can’t deny he’s family. Probably more than Hunter. Little shit couldn’t even make it out here for Father’s Day or Fourth of July. It’s like I don’t even know him anymore.”

I let out an exhausted sigh. “He’ll come around. Actually, I have that dentist appointment in the Financial District tomorrow, then I’m meeting Allie and Michelle for lunch. Maybe he’ll have lunch with us. I can try and talk to him.”

Mason shakes his head, smiling as Gracie claps and points at the fireworks. “He’ll come back when he’s ready,” he says, glancing at Ben. “They always do.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tightly. “I love you.”

“Yuck,” he says with a huge grin, his standard reply whenever I hug him or tell him I love him.

Ben and I set off to walk along the wet sand, where the foamy saltwater laps at our feet. The sound of the waves, the crowds, and the fireworks makes it impossible to talk as we walk, but it’s nice to walk in silence for a bit. Once we reach another collection of tide pools, we’re finally far enough from the crowds to be able to hear each other speak.

I’m not at all surprised when Ben yanks off his T-shirt and partially stuffs it into the back pocket of his board shorts, so it’s hanging out like a long, white tail. I’ve seen him do this at shows, when the jumping around combined with the scorching heat of the stage lights forces him to strip away layers of clothing. It always makes the fans go wild, but there are no fans here today, just one scorching fireworks display and one former fan.

I shake my head as I think of how I used to be Ben’s first and biggest supporter. No one loved him or his music more than I did, probably because no one understood him or his music the way I did.

I know why he never plays piano on any of his songs despite the fact that he took lessons for more than five years: because his teacher didn’t show him proper technique and now his wrist locks up whenever he plays longer than a couple hours. Even after Allie tried to teach him perfect hand position, he still reverts back to the form his piano teacher taught him. I know why he prefers acoustic guitar to electric guitar: because his mom taught him to play guitar on his first acoustic Yamaha. I know where he was when he wrote every single song on his first album. And that’s just the music.

I know how long it took Ben to learn to cry on cue when he was taking acting lessons. I know how he was kicked out of an acting class for punching an instructor who threatened to blacklist him for refusing to do a nude love scene. I know I’m the one who convinced him to apologize to the instructor and just do the scene. I promised him I wouldn’t be jealous, that love scenes are just part of the business.

He took my advice, and I never felt more jealous and insecure in my life than when he called me after filming the scene. I kept listening for nuances in his tone, trying to glean whether he enjoyed himself a little too much. But I heard no such thing. He sounded exhausted and relieved to be done with it, and my faith in Ben’s loyalty only strengthened.

“What are you thinking?” he asks as I take a seat on a rock.

I shake my head, then stop when I see a new tattoo on the lengthy muscle stretching from his hip down toward the button on his low-slung shorts. “What does that say?” I ask, pointing at the words.

He chuckles as he looks down at the tattoo. “It says ‘Ride my Charley horse.’ It’s my tribute to you.”

I glare at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He laughs. “Aw, come on, Char. I was drunk and I was missing the fuck out of you.”

I roll my eyes as I point at the new block of text on his ribs, four lines written in elegant script. “What does that one say?”

He hesitates for a moment before he lifts his arm and moves closer to me so I can read the words: We will all face the choice between what is right and what is easy. Choose wisely.

“What does that mean?” I ask reluctantly, knowing I probably don’t want to know the answer.

He stares into my eyes for a long moment before he nods toward my hand. “Let me see your wrist.”

I hold out my right hand.

“The other one.”

I sigh as I slowly stretch my left arm out to him, trying not to let him see how my entire body relaxes when he grabs my wrist.

Oblivious to the effect he has on me, he stares at the “i love us” tattoo for a while, then he pulls my hand toward his mouth and places a tender kiss on the words he wrote. “It means that I promise I’ll never give you another reason to doubt me.”

I swallow hard as I pull my hand back and clutch it against my belly. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He kneels before me and rests his chin on my knee as he looks up at me. “Give me a chance to show you.”

I want to ask him about the new tattoo on his chest — the word “unbreakable” — but I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Despite the butterflies singing a chorus inside me, all I can think of is whether there are any paparazzi watching us right now.

I shake my head. “I can’t…” I reply, barely loud enough for me to hear my own words, but Ben can read my lips just as I can read the disappointment in his eyes. “Not yet,” I add. “I guess… I guess we can be friends for now.”

His shoulders relax as he smiles and kisses the top of my knee. “That’s more than I could have hoped for.”

I hold my breath as he leans back a bit to look at my legs, and I can practically feel his gaze traveling over me like the whisper of fingertips.

“Let me drive you to your appointment tomorrow. I need to pick up my buddies and grab that Cintiq for my dad,” he says, his gaze meeting mine again.

I don’t ask how he knows I have an appointment or how he knows his dad talked to me about the Cintiq. I learned not to question the way Ben seems to know everything about everyone all the time. That’s just who he is, always genuinely interested in other people.

I nod before my brain can come up with an excuse to reject him. “Okay, but I’m meeting Michelle and Allie for lunch after my appointment. You’ll be facing the tribunal. Are you ready for that?”

The right side of his mouth pulls up in a dangerously sexy half smile. “Bring on the inquisition, baby.”

On cue, the flash of a camera goes off on my left and Ben chases off the same paparazzo who was creeping in the seagrass earlier today. Is this the reality I’m going to choose?

I lean forward, holding my face in my hands as I realize I made my choice when I agreed to let Ben drive me to my appointment tomorrow. I can still unmake that choice. But as I think of the words etched onto Ben’s ribs, I know I can’t back out now. Loving Ben isn’t easy, but nothing worth the time ever really is.

As he walks back toward me, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrunching up his eyebrows as he reads something on the screen. I want to ask him if someone texted him, but I don’t have the right to ask those kinds of questions anymore. Not yet.

He taps out a message and looks up as he tucks the phone back into his pocket. “It’s my assistant.”

I shrug. “It’s none of my business.”

“It is your business. I wouldn’t be texting other girls while trying to get you back. You know that’s not who I am.”

“Honestly, Ben, I don’t know who you are.”

His jaw clenches as his expression hardens. “Yes, you do. You know me better than anyone.”

“Yet, I still don’t know why you humiliated me in front of millions of people,” I reply, standing up to leave. “This was a bad idea. I have to go.”

He places his hands on my hips to stop me. “Charlotte, don’t go. Please.”

The butterflies in my belly are flapping their wings so fast they’re about to start a fire. Ben knows, of all my many names and nicknames, I prefer my given name most.

I look down at the sliver of space between us as I place my hands on his forearms. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

His hands travel up my sides, grazing past my breasts, and taking my face in his hands. “I promise you’ll understand. When everything is out in the open, you’ll know how much I fucking love you. I promise.” He places a tender kiss on my forehead. “And when we’re back together, I’ll fly you out to L.A. and show you my house.”

“I don’t want to see your house,” I pout, refusing to look up and into those irresistible blue eyes.

“They still have Alberto’s in L.A.,” he murmurs.

I sigh as I finally look up to meet his gaze. “How can you make me feel so safe and so reckless at the same time?”

He stares into my eyes for a long moment before he responds, “I want you to always feel safe. But I’d rather you be reckless with me than playing it safe without me.” Another camera flash breaks the spell and the muscle in Ben’s jaw twitches. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

As we walk along the shore in silence, I can’t help but think of how much Ben and I have changed. He has at least a dozen new tattoos and I haven’t traveled farther than fifty miles from home in the last three years. One thing we still have in common: we both hate predatory photographers. But is our mutual hatred of the paparazzi powerful enough to resurrect a dead relationship?