I’m half-dreaming by the time Josephine stirs, then stretches like a cat, her spine pressing against my chest. Just for an instant, and then she arches the other way, her ass pressing deliciously against my cock.

“Mmmm.” She wriggles in response to the sound, but says nothing.

I don’t want this moment to end.

It’s the first time in a long time that my mind has been quiet. Yes, it’s quiet in her bungalow, aside from the sound of the ocean lapping on the shore and the wind stirring leaves outside, but it’s a deeper quiet.

I feel...satisfied.

For once, I don’t have any doubt that I’ve done the right thing.

Thinking of the word doubt plants the seed in my mind that somehow this will all go wrong, that it already has without even getting out of bed, but I cover it up, shove it down.

Not now.

Not with Josephine’s smooth skin underneath my hands and the fresh scent of her shampoo on every breath I breathe in. 

I wait to fall asleep, but it doesn’t happen, and gradually I emerge to realize that Josephine isn’t sleeping, ether. She’s just breathing, her body totally relaxed against mine. I can say anything in this moment. Anything.

The words spill out before I have time to agonize. “I think we should start over.”

Josephine laughs, an almost silent giggle that makes her quake against me. “Right now? I can’t believe you’re ready to go again.”

I can’t help but smile, my face pressed into her hair. “I was an asshole before, and I’m sorry.”

Her breath hitches. God, how much of a prick was I that she’s startled at this apology of all apologies? “Agreed,” she says finally into the dark of the room. 

I wait.

“Was it really about Greg Roberts?”

“Who?” It’s a joke, but it takes her a second to catch on. Lying with her like this, my arm wrapped comfortably around her waist, her breathing gentle, I don’t know why the hell I was so hung up on high school. “He was a Grade A piece of shit, it’s true.” I have to swallow hard before I can say the rest. “But mostly it was about me. I didn’t want to come here.”

“Really?” she says, her sarcasm at an endearing level. “I couldn’t tell.”

 ”I want to make it up to you.” I can’t see her face, but I feel her roll her eyes. “What?”

“You wanted to do the right thing before, and then you ignored me the entire time we were at dinner.”

I have an excuse already prepared. It was an emergency. My brother needed my expertise to sort out what was happening with the property. But right now, in the silky blackness of her bungalow, I can admit that maybe I didn’t need to sort out that situation personally. I could have let Dex step in, or one of the other CEOs that I trust.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Josephine turns languidly to face me. Sadly, this means she has to move a few inches away. I miss her against me as soon as she moves.

She’s quiet for a long time.

I start to drift, following my thoughts wherever they lead me. No matter where I start, I always end up back at Josephine, lying in bed next to me.

When I open my eyes, it takes a while for them to adjust. There’s a tiny sliver of moonlight coming in through the curtain.

Josephine’s hair is a dark tangle against the pillow. I want to run my hands through it, want to feel it gliding through my fingers, but I don’t want to wake her. She looks the way I feel—peaceful. Not like the woman I saw clutching the mimosa for dear life on the plane. My stomach tightens. I didn’t ask her why a drink had become her life raft. I could have. That would have been the right thing to do, no matter what her boyfriend did to my brother in school. From the sound of it, he wasn’t very good to her, either.

I wasn’t good to her.

A tree branch creaks above us, and she shifts, just a little.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Hmm?”

Her voice is clouded with sleep. This is going to be the last time I can say anything before she’s out for the rest of the night, but I have to say something. There’s a tension winding its way down my back, holding onto me tight. I hate to call it what it is, because I still have the feeling, way in the back of my head, that I don’t owe her anything, that I can’t fall into the trap of owing her anything. 

It’s guilt.

“Please, Josephine. Let—”

“Josie.” She purses her lips a little, and this time I don’t resist. I reach out and run the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip. My heart pounds against my chest, once, twice, and then a third time. This seems more intimate than fucking. The way she says it, I bet nobody calls her Josie except the people that love her the most.

“Josie, let me make it up to you.”

She opens her eyes and gives me a slow grin that I can barely make out in the moonlight. “Okay.” Josephine puts her hand on mine and kisses my thumb. “But it’s your last chance, Charlie Cash. You fuck this up again, and we’re done.”

Once the words are out of her mouth she yawns and closes her eyes. Within a few minutes, her breathing has become steady and slow, her hand still curled around my wrist. 

I don’t sleep for a long time.