If I’d let Sol walk away from me on the beach, then I might have been spared the festering ache of his absence. But I didn’t. Instead, like an idiot, I’d told myself it’d be fine just to have a taste and be on my way. Then I’d shared my body, my bed, and banter around a breakfast table. Now I knew the crooked curve of his smile and how fucking good it felt to be the one to put it there.
