I woke up to the practically imperceptible change in light coming through the tiny half-windows at the far side of my apartment: golden-white sunshine instead of the muted orange of street lamps. It was Sunday morning. Andy would be leaving soon.

I rolled over and saw him lying awake, looking up at the ceiling. My white sheets were tucked up under his arms, in a striking contrast to his dark tattoos.

"Morning," I said shyly.

He smiled at me, and it lit up my alcove better than daylight ever had. "Morning."

"I suppose you have to leave today?" Immediately I wished I hadn't said it, because his gorgeous smile vanished.

"Yeah. Got to work tomorrow."

There was still so much I wanted to say to him, so many unanswerable questions. But all I said was: "You're working next weekend, too?"

"Yeah."

I could offer to drive up, anyway, and see him when he wasn't actually at the bar. I'd have to drive eleven or twelve hours there and back, re-immerse myself in the memory of my dead best friend, remind myself of the parents I never spoke to and the sisters I hardly ever saw. And of course I'd have to bring work with me. I took work home on weekends just like Andy stopped in at the bar on his days off during the week. Neither of us knew how to give something less than our all.

"We'll find a way, right?" I said, sitting up and glancing down at him.

He reached up and smoothed my tank top down along my back. "To do what? "

"To—to—" Were we dating now? Were we friends with benefits? "To see each other occasionally."

"Definitely," Andy said, sitting up, too, and frowning slightly. "As much as you want."

"Impossible." I smiled weakly, but he didn't look convinced. He swept a hand through his hair and sighed.

"What to grab breakfast?" I asked.

"I should probably just head out."

He rolled out of my bed and slipped past the alcove curtain into the living room. My heart sank, even though that was the answer I'd expected.

I slid out of bed and went after him. "When's your next free weekend?"

"Dunno. Probably not for a few months." He pulled a T-shirt on over his head. "I could switch some stuff around. Free up something sooner."

"Not really, though," I said softly. They needed him there, and he needed to be there, especially on weekends, when the bar was busiest.

"Not really, no."

"Coffee?" I asked hopefully, but he shook his head. Another answer I'd expected.

He started packing up his things, while I stood by, awkwardly folding the sheets we'd left on the couch. I wasn't ready for him to leave; I couldn't stand the thought of being apart from him again.

Eventually he finished packing and turned down all of the snacks I suggested for the road. I followed him to the door. "I'm going to miss you," I said, knowing I sounded a little desperate and unable to keep it from my voice.

"It's better this way," he said. "No distractions from your new job."

"You don't distract me," I said.

"You distract me a real lot."

"You know that's not what I meant. I mean—having you around—I feel sort of...better." Happier. More myself.

He shrugged the shoulder not weighed down by his duffle. "You seem like you've been doing fine so far."

It wasn't malicious or vengeful, just a statement of fact, but I still felt needled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We talked about this yesterday," he said, nonplussed. "I don't want to get in your way. Hold you back."

"You don't hold me back."

"C'mon, Kaye." He looked so tired, so resigned. As if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "If I hadn't asked you to move into the house, you would've left when Vi bought her own place. You were already talking about it, back then. I made it too easy for you to stay."

I opened my mouth to contradict him, but it was sort of true: when Vi had moved out of our rental, I'd been ready to leave, and I would have. But even though I'd spent so much time talking about leaving, I'd been overjoyed to spend each day with Andy, the whole time we'd lived together. If he'd ever showed the slightest romantic interest in me, I would have stayed for good, doing local paper stuff in between waitressing shifts. Would that have been so bad? We could have made new memories to balance out all of the sad ones.

"You've always had dreams that were bigger than the island," Andy said, as if he had read my mind. "You're ambitious. It's what makes you so special. Maybe other guys haven't always appreciated that about you, but I don't need to be a genius to see that you're smart, and talented, and capable of amazing things."

Tears stung my eyes. "But I've never thought of myself that way," I said. "Suze helped me a little, in high school, but she's been gone for a long time. I was just spinning my wheels for years, after she died. All through college, and living with Vi, I didn't have any dreams or goals. Being around you every day—that was the first time I thought, maybe I really could do anything, just like Andy says."

"But you've got your new job now, in your new place," he said slowly. "You don't need me anymore, if you ever did."

"Andy," I said, stricken. "I'll always need you. And want you." He had taught me about human nature, about trust, about companionship. He had made me want to do good, to make the world worthy of him. He had helped me believe that I could.

He didn't speak, just swallowed hard and looked at the floor.

"It's like you think I'm going to be flying around the world, and stopping by the island occasionally to see you, a couple times a year or something," I said. "But that's not what I want. And I don't think that's what you want, either."

"I want you to be happy," he said. "And moving back, for me..."

"It would be worth it, if I did. I want to be with you."

He shook his head, exhaling a shaky breath. "I can't let you do that."

"Then—what if—?" I bit my lip, hard, as another crazy, reckless, wonderful possibility occurred to me. "What if you stayed here?"

He stared at me, while my heart raced and I could barely breathe for nerves.

"Move in with me," I said, in a rush. "We could find a different apartment, a bigger one. But I want to be with you, live with you, and if I can't go back there, then..."

"You're serious," he whispered.

"I'm serious." I edged closer to him, wanting to touch him. I could hardly wrap my head around the magnitude of what I was asking him to do: to uproot his life, to quit a job he loved, to leave his family and friends, for me. Just me. "We could date for a while, first, long-distance, if you would rather do that. I just..." I touched his arm. "I know how I feel about you, Andy. And you don't hold me back. Not ever. You're everything to me."

"Kaye." His voice broke. "I didn't think you felt..."

"What?"

"As strongly."

"As you?"

"Yeah."

"Why wouldn't I?"

He huffed a laugh and pressed the heels of his hands briefly to his forehead.

"You don't realize how wonderful you are," I said.

"It's not even that. I just...feel really strongly. For you. I've never figured out how to... Our friendship is so important to me, but I..."

"Say it, Andy," I whispered. "I need to hear it."

His throat worked. I edged even closer, until I could see each shaky breath.

He dropped his hands to his sides, his fingers twitching. The duffle bag slid from his shoulder and tumbled to the floor. "I'm in love with you. For—God, maybe forever. As long as I've known you."

I dashed a tear from my cheek. "I'm in love with you, too."

He shuddered, exhaling hard. Then he swept me up and kissed me, wrapping his strong arms tight around me.

"Yes," I breathed, "yes, yes, yes."

"I fucking missed you," he muttered, still kissing me. "Six months was way too long."

"I know." Another tear escaped and splashed onto his t-shirt. "When you stopped returning my texts... I know you were preoccupied with Scott, but—"

"No—it was never about Scott. Not really." He drew back to look at me. "I thought you'd moved on. So I was trying to let you go."

We'd both been too insecure to think we deserved each other, and we'd both tried so hard to let go of each other we'd almost succeeded. I couldn't imagine anything worse.

"Don't let me go, Andy," I murmured into his collar. "I don't want to be apart from you."

"I'm not very good at it," he said with a laugh, his arms tightening around me. "The whole time I was driving down, I kept thinking, how am I gonna make it through this weekend without telling her how I feel?"

I laughed, too. "I'm glad you didn't."

"It was eating me alive."

"Me, too," I said. "Andy...does this mean you're considering it? Moving? I know it's a huge deal—you don't need to decide anytime soon, but I—"

"Yeah," he said suddenly. "I can—I think I can do it? Probably would be good for me. The island feels smaller without you, somehow. Not in a good way. Claustrophobically small."

"I understand, I think." I hesitated. "I hate to take you away from your family..."

"I like being near them, but it'll be all right. You're the one I can't stand to be separated from."

I dashed away another tear, smiling. "I still wish you didn't have to leave today. But I suppose you can't just abandon the bar."

"Nope." He grinned. "At least I'll be coming back."

"To stay," I said.

"To stay."

*******

So! Everyone's favorite clueless lovebirds finally got together! Miranda would be rolling her eyes so hard right now at how long it took them. :-) What did you think of the story? Was it interesting to see Kaye's point of view? 

Thank you so much for reading--I truly appreciate it! <3 <3

~London

PS. If you want to have your own copy of this novella as an ebook, you can find buy links in the story description. FYI the ebook version includes the mature scene 😘