We spend the day walking around the town, swimming, and even get a late evening game of volleyball in with some French travelers. I play one-handed.

We drink at the same place, sharing two bottles of wine this time, and talking about everything except my father, or the current state of the relationship.

Instead, we chat about female cover bands, the top five reggae songs of all time, and ultimate vacation spots after Costa Rica (hers is an island in the Philippines she’s seen pictures of).

I’m relieved.

Because I’m not in the mood to blab on about my evil father.

When we finally make our way back to the house, I head to my room, but she tugs on my hand.

“You sure you don’t want to stay in the larger bed...with me?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Just sleep,” she emphasizes.

I arch an eyebrow.

“I’m serious,” she adds.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” I say.

Dead tired from a long day of fun and sun, she’s asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.

I toss for at least an hour, turning over my thoughts.

Sleep by her side? To say that is all I want, is a lie.

To possess her, is what I want.

I want her to be all mine, to have and to hold and to cherish.

When she stirs, making those little moans in the middle of the night, she tempts me.

The moonlight creeps in, adding it’s bright blue glow to her sun-kissed skin.

This is an adventure. We’re not who we were back home. I’m not Carter Flynn, pro basketball player, I’m here to find out about my father.

I can’t sleep with her like this. She’s too damn distracting.

I snort, laughing a little, to myself. Like she’s thinking about turning me on right now. Hell, maybe she is dreaming about me.

Taking my throbbing cock in my hand, I stroke my hard length as I look at her. Listen to her. Inhale her cherry wine scent from last night. I loved how drunk we got, and I love drinking with her. I want to go back to how things were last summer.

But then again, we could never go back. Things are so different now.

I hated seeing her get home from wherever she’d been that night in New York. That’s what people do when they’re not in a relationship. They fuck around. You’ve done it. No use in getting jealous.

It burns me up to think about some other guy even talking to her, or hitting on her. Much less touching her.

Kissing her.

She stirs a little bit, letting out a nostril-y sound and shifting her body.

What would she do if she woke up in the middle of the night and saw how hard she was making me?

Who could blame me? What with that dancer’s ass, wiggling in her sleep, I’m supposed to just sit here and pretend her entire being isn’t hitting some spot deep down at the base of my soul?

She’s the only one for me. She boomeranged back into my life this summer, and I was upset about it at first.

Now, though, the reasons for that anger are coming into clarity.

Her withholding what she knew about my father was only a partial reason for my vitriolic response when she stepped back into my life.

When I examined myself deep down at the root, I realized I only ever wanted Lacy. Not anyone else. When I kicked a girl out, or told some model to get out of my life, and even when I made up the twenty-four hour rule, it was because of her.

I only wanted Lacy, not anyone else.

Those other women didn’t stand a chance, competing against Lacy’s ghost.

I ghosted her, not because she lied to me, but because I couldn’t face what lay ahead for the two of us.

So at age eighteen, breaking it off seemed like the sensible thing to do. Especially on the heels of finding out my father was alive, and in fact had a whole other family.

Yet still, here we are. Ten years later.

In the same bed.

If I were a prince, she’d be my princess. But we’d never be one of those power couples high up in the tower. We’d be down in the trenches with the people.

Just like she’s down in the trenches of my life, with me right now.

Sitting up in bed, I take a drink of water.

I’d never been able to put into words why I needed Lacy until now. Maybe it’s the clarity from the wine drunk. Who knows?

I twist my head to gaze at her, and a wash of emotions hits me like a train.

She’s never stopped trying to be there for me.

Ever.

Even in college, she’d send me yearly updates, but all the while her focus was on me and how I was doing. In a genuine way, not in a ‘hope we get back together’ fashion.

This went on until I was twenty three, got drafted to play for Chicago, and stopped responding to her.

Maybe she felt guilty about how we left things, and how I framed it as her fault.

How have I been treating her in return?

Shattering her heart?

Distracting her from the true love she hopes to find some day?

Delivering her false hope?

I’ve given her nothing, and she’s given me everything.

Here I am, injured, my contract in jeopardy, and she’s an angel at my side.

I stand up, light-headed from the wine. Stumbling to the sink, I splash water on my face and try to take a few deep breaths.

I’m not a crier, but I feel my eyes welling up as I consider everything she’s done for me. All the second chances she’s given to me, and a thought strikes like lightning: I don’t even deserve her.

Fuck, it’s true.

A Josh. She deserves a Josh, not a Carter.

Josh is the guy who takes you on a date, is kind of boring, but pays for everything, and is there when you need him most.

Carter is the guy you call in the middle of the night when your belly is full from your date with Josh, but you’re still left with some vague feeling of dissatisfaction.

What if I can be both, though?

Inhaling deeply, I accept the reality.

Lacy came here because I begged her. She’s getting on good with Josh. Josh is a good guy and she deserves him, not me.

Padding back into the bedroom, a broad smile crosses my face as I watch Lacy’s chest rise and fall. The moonlight touches her upper body too, now.

An extreme gratitude falls over me and I thank God, if there is one, for putting her into my life.

A peace comes over me at the obvious: this is our last night together. It certainly seems like it and tonight is all about pleasing her.

She’s done enough for me.

Crawling into bed, I lay next to her. Running my hand over her arm and up to her shoulder, I lift up a tuft of her black hair, and kiss her on the neck.

She lets out a soft moan, and I wonder if she’s truly asleep.

“Carter,” she whispers, so faintly I can barely hear her. “What are you doing?”

“Cuddling you.”

“Well you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

“Help me out, then,” I growl.

Lacy turns her body on her side, and I slide my hand down the skin of her hip and thigh, then gently pull her closer to me.

Her skin is hot as she presses her body into my stomach and legs. I wrap a hand around her, sliding it from her belly button around her breasts.

“Carter, no sex,” she moans.

“We’re not having sex,” I growl.

“Okay. As long as you know.”

“I do know. I was just thinking, we never really cuddled much.”

“We cuddled in high school.”

“Okay, then, but last summer we didn’t cuddle.”

“I thought you didn’t like to cuddle.”

I swallow, not wanting to explain to Lacy the roller coaster journey of thoughts I’ve been on tonight.

“I like it sometimes. Tonight, I like it.”

“Why tonight?”

“I just want to. That’s all.”

“Well I like that you want to.”

“Too bad it’ll be the last time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot, you deserve someone great. I can totally get where you’re coming from. You need a better guy. This Josh guy sounds great.”

I listen to her heart beat a few times before she speaks next.

“You’re great, too. We were just great with an expiration date.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

I nod. “I like you a lot but I want you to be happy.”

Lacy’s silent, and I wish I could read her mind.

I run my hand up and down her stomach a few times.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

“Why are you suddenly so open?” she asks. “And sweet?”

“I’m just trying to get better at telling you what’s on my mind.”

“Bullshit. You just want to sleep with me.”

She wiggles her ass a little bit against me, and I feel my body start to react. Lacy bites her lip, turning toward me for a moment, then looking back out the window.

I hear her sniffle, then see her reach a finger up to her eye to wipe away what I think is an almost formed tear.

“This is fucking bullshit, Carter,” she chokes out, her voice a hoarse whisper.

I furrow my brow. “Bullshit? How so, Laces?”

She pulls away from me, then spins her body around so we’re facing each other. Our bodies aren’t touching, but we’re so close together we can feel each other’s heat.

It’s hard to tell in the sparse light of the room, but I think her eyes are glossed over.

“I finally write you off. I’m on the brink of moving on for real. And then you bring me to the most beautiful place on Earth and say every fucking word I’ve been wishing you to say for so long? What the fuck, Carter? Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not just saying all this stuff because you want to have sex?”

“I don’t think sex would be a good idea right now.”

“Such a liar,” she says, stealing a glance below my belly button. “You’re hard.”

“Am I supposed to lay next to your near naked body and not be hard? That would be weirder than me being hard, I think.”

Lacy just shakes her head.

“I’m being serious,” I continue. “if you want to know the truth, I wanted to cuddle you because I realized this was my last opportunity to do that with you.”

She sniffles, breathing hard. I put my hand on her shoulder. She turns her face away from me, hiding her expression.

“Are you okay, Laces? You want me to go? I can just leave if you want.”

Her breaths turn from what I thought might be crying into obvious, loud laughter.

When she turns her face toward me, she’s got a giant smile on her face.

“Do you ever feel like God is messing with you, just having a good laugh at your expense?” she asks.

“Sometimes, yes. Is that the way you feel?”

She flashes her gorgeous blue eyes up at me, eye shadow still thick on them from last night.

“The second I move on, God shows me a kind side of you.”

“And which is the side you usually get to see?”

“Your cut off, asshole side. Although…”

She draws her hand down my stomach, and my breath catches. She stops it below my belly button, just short of the base of my cock. “Although that side has its benefits.”

“Such as?”

“Knows what it wants.”

I arch an eyebrow and slide my body next to hers, so we’re lying on our sides facing each other. Inching my lips toward her, I hover so close to her we can feel each other’s hot breath.

“Like this?” I ask.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“What else does that side of me do?”

“Well, that side of you is aggressive,” she says.

I place my hand firmly on her ass and give it a squeeze, my heart hammering in my chest as I swallow the lump in my throat. I can’t tell if she’s messing with me, or if she wants this.

“Like this?” I ask again, my voice hoarse.

Her tongue runs along the outside of her lips, and she slides it a paper’s width from my mouth before nibbling on my ear.

“Maybe,” she whispers, and a soft moan escapes her lips. She inches her hips toward me, grinding against my leg.

“Fuck, Lacy,” I grunt. I don’t know what to think right now. Give me a sign that you want this as badly as I do right now. I’m torn. I can’t tell if I’m taking this too far or if she really wants it.

She bites her lower lip, then reaches her hand down and grabs the base of my cock through my briefs.

“I thought you said no sex,” I swallow. “And I was—am—serious about respecting that boundary.”

“I’m regretting setting that boundary right now.”

She runs her hand slowly up and down my hardening length, looking me dead on in the eye.

“I wouldn’t want to be the reason something got fucked up between you and Josh…”

She whispers emphatically. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“Josh doesn’t stand a chance. Whenever I kissed Josh, I thought of you.”

“Fuck that’s hot,” I groan.

“Face it, Carter. Boundaries were never our thing.”

“I know. But I wanted to respect them, for once in my life.”

Liquid heat pools in my loins as Lacy runs her hand around my cock. Taking some of my precum, she swirls it around and wets me so she can ease her hand across.

“I want you so bad right now,” I mutter.

“I know,” she says, pressing her forehead against mine. “I want you, too.”

Our lips hover close together without touching.

Seconds. Minutes.

She strokes me back and forth and we stare into each other’s eyes.

I try to keep a clear head. But it’s hard because in addition to being wine drunk, I’m Lacy drunk.

Drunk off the most beautiful angel who’s ever entered into my world.

This very well could be the last time we do this.

Still, she gives. She strokes me, without asking for a damn thing in return.

Closing the last inch between our lips, I kiss her. Our mouths are heavy with electricity that traverses every inch of our bodies.

I know it’s in her because I can feel her, too.

Reaching down, I put my hand on top of hers, and pull it off my dick.

“What? You don’t like it?” she asks.

“I love it,” I growl, looking right into her sea blue eyes. In my peripheral vision, I notice the very faintest speck of dawn outside, but the moon is still bright.

“But tonight is not about my pleasure. It’s about your pleasure. So sit back and relax.”