When our hips moved together, she broke away, gasping. “This is so hard,” she said.

I pressed her face into my shoulder and just held her. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“I do. I know that I want you.”

She shuddered against me. “The butterflies. I destroyed the mobile.”

“That’s okay.”

“Tore it apart with my bare hands.”

“I’m sure it’s what you needed to do at the time.” I stroked her head.

“I shouldn’t have done that. It was Finn’s.”

“It’s okay.”

Her breaths were fast and shallow, like they had been in the stairwell that day. I started to worry about her fainting again, but she quieted down, slowing down her exhales. I just held on and waited for her to come back around. At last she looked back up at me. “Thank you for the new ones.”

I kissed the top of her head. “You can thank me by getting naked on Black’s Beach.”

She half-smiled again and pulled away, punching me on the chest. “In your dreams. Besides, you’d pummel anybody who looked at me.”

I snatched up the shoes. “True. They’d have to call it Blood Beach.” I turned to lead her back to La Jolla and get her something to eat, but she stood staring at the waves. “You okay, Corabelle?”

She looked at me, her brown eyes so full of sorrow. “I don’t know how to be happy.”

My heart squeezed. “I think it can be a choice.”

“But I’m trying to choose it.”

“Here’s what I think.” I knelt and picked up a stick that had been washed ashore. “I can draw this line.” The end of the stick cut through the smooth surface of sand between us. “On your side is grief.” I pointed at her feet. “On my side is happiness.”

I stood up and tossed the stick away. “Now you can step across it and not look back.”

Corabelle kept looking at the line, the sharpness of it stark against the miles of smooth unbroken sand. “But I want to look back. I want to remember Finn.”

“Crossing the line isn’t about forgetting the people we love. It’s about not letting our past sorrow steal our future joy.”

She still didn’t move. I knew this was hard for her. I crossed over years ago, not exactly into happiness, but at least away from the misery. Our lives were made up of hundreds of these lines. Choosing when to cross was different for each person. We each had our own timeline for letting go.

She looked up at me, and I held out my hand. Her eyes shifted to it, waiting there for her to accept what I offered, hovering between us like an unspoken promise. Then she reached for it, closed her fingers around mine, and took that first tremulous step, out of her old world, and across the line into mine. 

I was pretty sure I’d never had a hot dog as good as this one.

Gavin laughed at me, mustard topping his upper lip like a mustache. He reached over with a yellow fingertip and traced my upper lip. I felt something cold left behind, and ran my hand over my mouth. It came back yellow. “You have not grown up one bit, Gavin Mays!”

We sat on the beach at La Jolla, surrounded by people soaking up the sun. Nobody was venturing into the water, due to the chill. My butt was covered in sand and the hot dog was gritty, but something about stepping over that line must have worked because I couldn’t stop laughing.

“You used to love it when I gave you a mustard mustache!” Gavin put on a goofy grin and rolled his eyes. “Mr. and Mrs. Mustardash!”

“When I was six!” I laughed and swiped his lip with a napkin, only succeeding in smearing it up to his nose. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You can take me to Black’s Beach. We don’t have to wear anything but our ’stach.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

Heat rose up from my belly, and I knew I’d be taking him into my bed again that night. I vibrated with need for him and already lamented wasting a day with my angst and indecision. Just going with it was so much easier, so much more natural.

He misunderstood my silence, running his hand along my arm. “I would never push you on this, Corabelle. I can wait for you to come back to me.”

I stuck my hot dog back in the paper tray and crashed into him, knocking us both into the sand. I leaned over him, ignoring the stares of families around us. “I think I’m already done waiting.”

He lifted his head, his mouth perilously close to my lips. “Then what the hell are we doing on this beach?” he whispered.

We snatched up our trash and dumped it into the nearest bin. Sand kicked up from our feet as we hightailed it back to my car. “You better drive fast!” Gavin insisted as we backed out of the parking space.

“I might run over small children!” I shouted, then realized I’d just made a reference to kids without feeling horrible inside. Gavin was right. We could choose to let go of the stranglehold our past had on us.

I careened through town, flooring it between lights as we headed back to my apartment. “God, remember that time the police pulled me over just a block away from my house?” I asked.

Gavin laughed. “The one time I thought it would be clever and sexy to unbutton your pants in the car.”

My face burned just remembering. “I just knew he was going to ask me to get out, then my parents would come and see me both half-dressed and with the cops.”

“What had you done?”

“I think a taillight was out or something.”

“It certainly wasn’t speeding.”

I stomped on the gas. “You mean like this?”

He laughed. “You are one terrible driver.” His hand snaked over to my thigh. “I think it was something like this, right?” He unsnapped my jeans.

Sparks shot through my body, and I eased off the gas, unable to drive irrationally if I couldn’t focus on the road.

“Or was it more like this?” Gavin lowered the zipper and slid his thumb along the edge of my panties.

We came to a red light, and I was relieved, because I was afraid I’d start swerving if he did anything more. “Gavin, we’re going to have a wreck.”

“Then I better make the most of this traffic light.” His palm flattened against my belly, and he reached farther down.

Now I couldn’t think about anything but his fingers, slipping inside me, pressed tight inside the jeans. The light turned green and a car behind me honked. I jumped, startled, and Gavin chuckled. “I’ll be good,” he said, but he didn’t remove his hand, just kept it still.

I stayed off the freeway, taking side streets since I didn’t trust him not to distract me, even if he didn’t intend to. His hand was hot against my skin. When we got to the next light, he started up again, a gentle pulse in just the right spot. My breathing grew faster. I wished it was dark so we could simply pull over somewhere, but the midafternoon sun was merciless and bright.

When I hit the gas again, his hand stilled, but the ache was so fierce I couldn’t concentrate. “We’re closer to my place,” he said. “You can turn right here and it’s two streets down.”

I jerked the wheel and followed his directions to a set of aging apartments. I didn’t relax until I’d pulled into a spot and killed the engine. “Can we go in now?” I asked, my body trembling all over.

“Not just yet.” Gavin released his seat belt but left his hand in my pants. He couldn’t unbuckle mine without pulling out, so he left it but turned toward me, letting his free hand trace my collarbone. “I like it right here.”

I shut my eyes to the open windshield and let the movements of his fingers send cascades of pleasure through me. I felt completely wanton, spreading my knees as he found the perfect placement, spiraling me up into showering sparks.

“I want to hear you, Corabelle. Talk to me.”

We’d always had to be so quiet when he snuck in my window that when we finally got our own place, he always asked me to talk to him, to let him know what I was feeling with sounds.