Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Conrad

Conrad is working an evening shift at the clinic when the call comes through. A name flashing across his phone that he hasn’t seen in a very, very long time, ‘Belly.’ The sight of it automatically causes a lump to form in his throat and a tightness in his chest. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had thought about reaching out to her over the past few years, the ache of wanting to hear her voice sometimes felt unbearable. But she had made her choice. He had pushed her into it, straight into his brother’s very eager arms, and he knew he had to live with that.

His brain tries to find some rational explanation as to why she would be calling, especially when it would be late where she is. It feels ominous, like there could only possibly be bad news waiting for him on the other end of this phone call. He takes a deep breath, trying to employ those regulation techniques he has practiced so many times with his therapist (doing a grounding exercise in session is one thing but trying to do it when the love of your life is calling you for the first time in years is another), and finally gets up the nerve to answer. “Belly?” he says and tries not to wince at how breathless he sounds.

The voice on the other end does not belong to Isabel Conklin. “Hey Conrad, it’s Taylor. Belly asked me to call.” This statement only serves to increase his anxiety. “Hey Taylor, is everything okay, is everyone alright?” He responds, voice still shaky. Is she alright? He thinks but doesn’t say it aloud, he finds himself picking at the cuticle of his thumb with his pointer finger.

The line is quiet for a second before Taylor says, “We’re at Providence General right now, Steven got into a car accident. He is alive, but unconscious. The doctors are running tests but we don’t know much yet. Belly thoughts you should know.”

The words echo in his ears. His hand automatically reaches for his chest, that all too familiar tightness settling there. He decides to let the technical, medical side of himself take over or else he feels like he would drown in the emotional side of it. Steven. His best friend. Basically brother. Car accident.

“I’ll hop on the next flight. Have the doctors told you guys anything?” He hears himself asking.

“No it’s okay, you don’t need to do that. All they have said is that they think he is stable, he has a cracked rib and some sort of head contusion. They said they have to wait for the scans to come back. The doctor was very short with us and didn’t give us much information.“ Taylor says softly. He registers that it sounds like she has been crying.

“God, okay. I’m actually at work right now, let me talk to my boss and see if she knows someone at Providence, see if there's anything she can do. I want to help” Luckily he knew Dr. Namazi was here late today so he could hopefully catch her.

“That would actually be great, Conrad. Look I got to go but we will keep you updated.” She says.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll try to do whatever I can. Taylor, just tell me, is she okay?” He can’t help but ask.

Taylor pauses then says, “it’s been a hard week for her but I’m here and her parents will hopefully be here soon.” She doesn’t elaborate further and Conrad doesn’t ask despite desperately wanting to know what else has been going on. “Alright, bye Conrad, I gotta go.” She hangs up before he can say goodbye. He stands there frozen for what feels like minutes, phone clenched in his hand, before pushing himself into action.

He finds Dr. Namazi in the hallway, in conversation with another student. He waits politely for their conversation to end before getting her attention.

“Dr. Namazi, do you have a minute?” He says. The other student walks away, she turns towards him expectantly.

“I just found out a very close friend, more like a brother, was in a pretty serious car accident. He’s at Providence General. I was wondering if you had any contacts in neurology there?” He says nervously.

“The head of neurology is a friend of a friend.” She replies.

“Is there any way you could make a call?” He says, hopeful.

“I’ll see what I can do. Do you need to take the day?” She says, scrutinizing him.

“Thank you so much, No, no, I’m good.” He replies trying to steady his voice.

“Are you sure?” He nods, she stares at him for a few more moments before turning to walk away.

He finds himself with Agnes in the lab a little while later. He’s been attempting to focus but his head has felt fuzzy, consumed with anxiety, and he’s been checking his phone every few minutes. Dr. Namazi walks into the lab.

“ No cell phones. How did everything go with those blood draws?” She says as she begins to check their work. He quickly shoves his phone back into the pocket of his white coat. “Great.” Him and Agnes say in unison.

She pulls out one of his vials, peering at it, before looking back at him. “This is mislabeled.” She says flatly.

“Oh, that one is mine, my mistake.” He replies, reaching for it. “A mistake that puts your patients at risk.” She says. “I’ll fix it right now..” he says quickly.

“You should have gone home when I gave you the chance. You are done here. You are not ready for this.” She says firmly.

“You're going to fire me over one mistake, Dr. Namazi, please..” He says pleadingly.

“You may see this as one mistake, but this is about you not knowing your limits. Which makes you a walking liability. My liability.”

“Dr. Namazi..” He says, ready to plead his case.”

“No.” She says, even more firm than before. “You can always apply again next year.” She turns and leaves the room before he can get out another word. He stands there frozen. Agnes attempts to talk to him but he gets his bearings and tells her that he has to go.

He failed. He got fired.

He let his emotions get the best of him. He feels the panic start to rise as he stands outside the clinic. He feels out of control. He presses his hands into the side of the building and tries to breathe. He failed here but maybe it’s his sign to see if there's something he could do to help on the other side of the country.

This new task has provided some distraction and before he knows it he has a flight booked, a bag packed, and he is heading to the airport to catch the next flight to Rhode Island.

Belly

Belly stands in the hallway of the hospital after having left Steven’s room so he and Taylor could talk. She is so glad he is alive and awake. The exhaustion from being up most of the night and the emotion of possibly losing her (albeit often annoying) brother is finally catching up to her. She finally gets a call from her mom and that’s when the tears break loose again. She hears her mom apologize profusely and tells her she will be there as soon as she can. She hangs up and sees she has unread messages. The text from Conrad had come in hours ago. She breathes and wills herself to read it and respond. She sees their texts from Christmas which fills her head with memories for a few moments.

Christmas, Conrad, P.S, I still love you.

“How is Steven?” His most recent text says.

She types out a reply. “Good, he is awake. I assume you are the well connected person from Stanford that made sure he got the best care. Thank you.” She hopes it conveys how truly grateful she is.

She remembers then that Jeremiah is in the waiting room. Thinking of him makes her feel so many things at once. Anger, sadness, but also a longing to just be held. Her conversation earlier with Taylor had made her decide she would at least hear him out. She has not made up her mind on whether or not that conversation would be enough to take him back or not, but she's sad and exhausted so the idea of being wrapped up in his arms sounds so comforting. Things like a car accident, almost losing someone you love will do that to you. Make you forget for a moment why you were as mad as you were. She takes a deep breath and presses the down button on the elevator, headed for the waiting room.

She gets down to the main floor and turns the corner. She does see Jeremiah slouched in a chair fast asleep, his curls sticking up in different directions, but what she sees next freezes her in place. Her eyes suddenly lock with clear, sea green eyes that have always taken her breath away. When she was little, she used to think that he would appear out of thin air if she was thinking about him. She didn’t know if it was fate, or a coincidence. She just knew he was somehow always there when she needed him.

“Conrad?”

Conrad

He should have known it was silly to think that he would be able to shut his mind off enough to sleep on the plane. Thoughts of his failure at the clinic did take up some space but not as much as he would have thought. He spent time thinking about Steven. Memories together, his guilt about not seeing or talking to him much over the past few years. Just a few scattered texts and even fewer phone calls. He wonders if he can find a way to make it up to him. He promises himself he will try.

While he does spend a lot of time thinking of Steven, he would be lying if he said it had taken up the majority of his thoughts. He couldn’t help but think of her. Wondering how she was doing. This leads to wondering what her life has turned into in his absence. This does cause him to wince a little because obviously when he pictures her life, his brother is there, ever present, in the spot he always wished he had been man enough to be in. He always tells himself that he’s stayed away this long because of school, but he knows this is a lie.

Taylor had not mentioned whether Jere was at the hospital too, but he assumed he was, probably holding her, comforting her. He spends a good portion of the rest of the flight trying to prepare himself to see her again, to see them together. Memories of Christmas flash before his eyes. Seeing her then had been such a shock. He had felt that happiness she naturally brought him bubble up in his chest. When she had fallen and he had picked her up, something about holding her in his arms was perfect and tragic at the same time. Perfect because it felt like that’s where she should be, forever. Tragic because he couldn’t keep her there, had no right to. They had spent the day together with such an easy feeling between them, it almost made him forget that it could never truly be that way again.

It was morning when he arrived in Providence. He had not checked a bag so he was able to get out of the airport quickly. He decided to uber to the hospital. He would rent a car later if he needed it or pick his up in Boston, but doubted it as he figured he would not be staying very long. Although now that his clinic job was fucked, he did not really have any excuse to miss his mom’s dedication ceremony in just two weeks.

It was about a fifteen minute ride from the airport. He figured he probably should have let someone know he was coming. He was still in the car when his phone vibrated. It did not help his nervousness one bit when he looked down and saw it was a text from Belly.

“Good, he is awake. I assume you are the well connected person from Stanford that made sure he got the best care. Thank you.” It says.

This text causes a wave of warmth to run through his chest. He feels glad that he was able to do something for Steven. For her, a part of his mind thinks despite all his fuck-ups over the past several years.

He arrives at the hospital and walks in through the main emergency room doors, figuring he will ask someone at the front desk or give in and make a phone call if he can’t figure out where he is going. As he walks into the waiting room, his eyes land on Jere. He’s fast asleep in a chair. The next thing he sees was something he should have known no 7 hour flight could prepare him for. It’s sort of like she’s a planet and he’s a moon, always getting caught in her orbit. His eyes land on her immediately. She’s by the elevators, still several feet away. He registers that she looks exhausted, clothes rumpled, and hair messy.

‘Your hair is like a little kid's, the way it’s always so messy’ he hears a ghost of himself say in his head.

Despite all that, the loveliness of her still leaves him breathless. Their eyes finally lock on each other.

“Conrad?” He hears her say.

He thinks he could never, ever get tired of the way his name sounds coming out of her mouth. His eyes are still on her, he swallows, willing himself the ability to speak.

“Hey, Belly.” He says, realizing he has not spoken in several hours, it comes out rougher than he expected. Before he can think better of it, he finds himself closing the distance between them. He definitely had not planned this part on the plane but something about the redness around her eyes has him reaching for her and pulling her into a tight hug. His arms encircle around her, her head tucking into his shoulder, below his chin, hair tickling him. She’s basically family he thinks, a family member going through a hard time. It’s normal to give a family member a hug, he tries to make himself believe, despite the tingling warmth that has suddenly spread across every inch of his body.

She seems frozen for a few seconds, before her arms wrap around him, almost just as tightly. It’s one of those moments where it feels like everything else disappears, the hospital noises, the tiredness of an overnight flight, the fact his brother sits sleeping in a chair just several feet away. It is of course that exact moment that Jeremiah decides to wake up.

He wakes up, rubbing his bleary eyes and stretching before he scans the room. It was probably quite the awakening when his eyes land on his brother and girlfriend -- well technically ex-girlfriend right now, locked in an embrace.

“Con?” Jeremiah says questioningly.

Conrad lets go of Belly and they both pull away and turn towards Jeremiah’s voice. Conrad turns and starts walking towards his brother, Belly remains in place for a few moments.

“Hey, Jere.” Conrad says, closing the distance to go hug his brother. Jeremiah hugs him back, but Conrad can feel how stiff he is.

“What are you doing here?” Jere says tightly. At that moment, Belly has finally walked towards them and stops just a few feet away.

“Taylor called me and told me about Steven. I wanted to see if I could do anything to help. I was able to take some time off from the clinic and hopped on the first flight here last night.” Conrad replies, trying to focus his eyes solely on Jeremiah. Permanent time off because he was fired, he thinks to himself.

“You didn’t need to do that,” He hears Belly say and can’t help when his head automatically turns to face her. “You’ve already helped so much already” She finishes.

The smile that spreads across his face is entirely involuntary. “No, I wanted to be here for” he pauses, “for Steven. Plus I hardly did anything, all I did was ask my boss to make a call..” He trails off.

“Well it did a lot. The first doctor was awful. The other doctor that came in after you helped has taken such good care of him. She even let Taylor see him when she wasn’t supposed to,” Belly says, they are looking at each other now. “Thank you,” she says, the last part much softer.

Conrad just keeps smiling at her for a few moments before she looks away, eyes drifting back to his brother.

“Con is always coming through to save the day, our personal super hero,” Jeremiah says and Conrad can’t help but hear the sarcasm in his voice. “Listen, Bells, can we please talk? Alone, maybe outside for a few minutes?” Jeremiah says, his voice almost taking on a pleading tone as he looks at Belly.

This confuses Conrad. He now wonders why Jeremiah was down here and not with Belly when he first arrived. He looks between the two of them before telling himself it must just be that the hospital wouldn’t let Jere go upstairs since he wasn’t technically family.

What Conrad didn’t know was his quick decision to take a flight resulting in him being present during this particular week was about to alter the course of everything.

Belly

Her train of thought regarding what to do about Jeremiah disappeared the second she saw Conrad. It was embarrassing really, how just the mere sight of him could suddenly take up every corner of her brain. Being pulled into his arms had been a shock to her system. She felt heat everywhere his body touched hers. It had felt the same when he had picked her up after she had fallen at Christmas. Like even when he let go, marks would be left there, like a burn. Being in his arms also vaguely made her feel the same as coming home after a really long and hard day.

‘I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t make me feel electric either’ the words from a younger Conrad echoed in her head and she tried to shake them away.

They pulled apart then and she could see Conrad turning to walk towards Jeremiah. She could vaguely hear them speaking to each other in the back of her mind but she felt frozen in place. She finally willed herself to look at them and walk the few steps to where they were. She hears Conrad explaining why he is here. She has felt many emotions towards Conrad over the past several years, but right now she floods with gratitude. She feels like she is being reminded that no matter what, he is always still looking out for her.

He’s here for Steven. He’s here for Steven, she chants in her head.

She finds herself thanking him, feeling her cheeks burn as he looks straight into her eyes. God, it is unfair that someone could still look that good after taking a red eye flight. She feels something like annoyance bubble in her chest when she hears Jeremiah make a snarky comment.

“Listen, Bells, can we please talk? Alone, maybe outside for a few minutes?” She hears Jeremiah ask. She looks at him, desperation all over his face. This is what she had come down here to do right? To talk to Jeremiah and figure out things between them. Now she feels like that’s the last thing she wants to do. It’s like someone poured cold water over her head and she can see more clearly. She feels the hurt about him -- and fucking Lacie Barone -- come to the forefront of her mind again, the desire to sink into Jeremiah’s arms mostly gone. She also feels a wave of embarrassment wash over her due to Conrad’s eyes floating between the two of them. The last thing she needs is Conrad knowing what’s going on.

“Jere, listen, I’m glad you came but let’s talk about this a little later. Let me show Conrad where Steven is first. He can only have two visitors at a time, so let me walk him up there and I’ll come back down in a bit ” She says, shooting him a look that she hopes conveys that she does not want to discuss any of this in front of his brother.

“Okay, yeah. That sounds good. I’ll be here and I’ll see you soon, Bells,” Jere reaches out, about to grab Belly’s hand. Without thinking she pulls it out of his reach at the last second. She tries not to look but catches a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across his face. She is torn between the hurt she feels and the desire she’s had to do whatever she can to make Jeremiah Fisher happy over the past four years. She takes a deep breath and pushes down the urge to comfort him and turns to Conrad. Conrad’s brow is furrowed in what she guesses is confusion. She does not intend to elaborate on what’s happening.

“Come on Conrad, I’ll take you to Steven. He’s going to be so excited to see you. Plus maybe you can meet your hotshot doctor friend.” Belly says, already turning toward the elevators, ready to escape this situation.

“Definitely not my friend,” he chuckles, and turns to Jere, “Hey i’ll be quick so you can go up and see him and then maybe we could all get something to eat?”

“Sure, whatever,” Jere says, clipped.

Conrad nods and tries to smile at his brother before he turns to follow Belly. He reaches the elevators just a few steps behind her. They both go to press the up button, hands bumping into each other. A spark shoots up Belly’s arm and she curses the universe for being so unfair.

Conrad

Belly and him had not spoken much on their short trip to Steven’s room, just some small talk about each other's school. They had passed a tearful Taylor in the hall so Belly had just shown him the room before going back out to talk to her.

He walked in and Steven was awake, propped slightly in the bed with a blue-gray hospital blanket up to his waist. He just had a couple visible bruises but overall didn’t look too bad. This made Conrad feel relieved and so glad that his friend was going to be okay.

“Hey,” he said smiling, taking a seat in the chair by the hospital bed.

“Hey, Belly told me you pretty much saved my life.” Steven replied jokingly.

They talked for several minutes, conversation flowing easily between the two friends.

“Well, good to know all I have to do is get in a little car crash if I want to hear from you, man,” Steven says, in a teasing way but it hits Conrad hard and causes the guilt to resurface. He decides now is the time to try to keep his promise from the plane.

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry about that. I just kind of got wrapped up in everything out there. But, it’s no excuse, I should have been better about reaching out,” Conrad says, hoping Steven can feel how much he means it.

“I get it, I've just missed you is all. Let's not go that long again huh?” Steven smiles at his friend and they continue chatting. They are in a conversation about a video game when Laurel and John burst through the door.

“My baby,” Laurel says, rushing to Steven’s side.

“Aww mom it’s okay, I’m totally fine, barely a scratch,” He says, moving to comfort her and wincing slightly, probably irritating his broken rib.

“Stay still,” she admonishes, “God, I’m so sorry it took us so long to get here,” She checks every part of him, scanning to make sure it’s all there while John stands at the foot of the bed. When Laurel seems satisfied, she turns to Conrad.

“Connie, it’s so good to see you. I can’t thank you enough for your help with this.” Conrad stands to hug her. He relinquishes the chair to her after that and stands for a few more minutes before excusing himself, saying he’s going to go check on Jere. Laurel tells him to hurry back and that she would love to catch up later, he agrees.

When he leaves the room, he expects to see Taylor and Belly in the hallway but it’s empty apart from some hospital staff. He walks back the same way he came, taking the elevator back to the first floor. He figures he will get some food with Jere, maybe Belly too if she’s still here, and then come back to check in. Maybe he’ll get a hotel for a few nights to stay close while Steven is still in the hospital.

He gets back to the waiting room where Jere was earlier, but finds he’s not there. He looks around a few corners before deciding to check outside. He walks around the side of the hospital towards a small garden/sitting area, pulling out his phone from the side pocket of his backpack, ready to call Jere if he can’t find him out here. It’s when he rounds the first corner that he can hear them. He can’t see them yet, but he’s pretty sure he would always recognize her voice no matter what.

“God Jere, you picked a fight with me, went to Cabo, and then slept with Lacie Barone twice. Then you came back and acted like everything was fine? You give me some cheap puka bracelet like it’s going to fix everything, and then you don’t tell me about it for over a month so I find out from her in your fucking frat bathroom? You hurt me so bad, and I’m just having a really hard time figuring out if I could ever trust you again…” Belly says, he can tell that if he could see her face that he would see tears streaming down her cheeks.

Conrad freezes, hand tightening dangerously around his phone, the other in a fist. He’s sure Jeremiah is saying something back to her but he suddenly can’t distinguish the words behind the roaring in his ears. He feels his whole body stiffen and quite literally, sees red. When Conrad had walked away from Belly at that motel almost four years ago, he had convinced himself it was because he couldn’t love her the way she deserved. He was too deep in his grief and desperately didn’t want to drag her down with him. He could not bear the thought of hurting her again. He had told himself his brother could give her that kind of love, and that they would be happy together.

He was going to kill him.

Chapter Text

Belly

They had not even said much to each other during the short trip to Steven’s hospital room, but it still brought a whisper of that feeling she had at Christmas. Maybe it was the time they had been apart, it had allowed some of the hurt she felt to settle, but she suddenly felt like she was 10 years old again, hanging on to every word Conrad Fisher said to her. He gave her small glimpses into his life in Palo Alto. She wished desperately in that moment that she still knew, had the right to know, everything about him. 

She had shown him the room but ended up leaving him there to comfort Taylor, finding out that her conversation with Steven had not gone well. She had done her best and then sent Taylor to go home, shower, eat and sleep. Things she herself could also probably desperately use. 

When she had finally gotten up the courage to talk to Jeremiah ( which had involved a pep talk in the hospital bathroom mirror) she had figured the conversation would go one of two ways. 

1. The conversation would go poorly and maybe she would feel too angry or insecure to try to fix things. She would solidify the breakup, go back home, and wallow on her mom’s couch for the next few months before disappearing to Paris. 
2. They would talk, he would apologize, and maybe she would believe him. Maybe they could agree to move past it or at least try to move past it. Maybe they’d hug, kiss, and then go get something to eat to talk about what ‘starting fresh’ meant. 

Belly could have never predicted that this conversation would lead to being proposed to outside of a hospital building. 

“You hurt me so bad and I’m just having a really hard time figuring out if I could ever trust you again.” She pauses then, trying to catch her breath, she feels hot tears running down her cheeks. When she had fully faced him, all the hurt had come back, but she also felt stronger than she had last night. He needed to know how much this hurt her. “Like how would I know that you wouldn’t do it again?” 

He had reached for both of her hands and was grasping them firmly, desperately, “You could marry me.” She heard him say. She was surprised she was still standing, it was like her entire body had gone numb. She knew he was still talking but she couldn’t even hear him anymore. 

“I love you, it’s been hell without you. I’m so sorry I hurt you Bells, but I want to fix this. Are you willing to let me try?” He says, hopeful. She stood staring at him for a few minutes

Belly had never really been the kind of girl to imagine a proposal, maybe a few times as a pre-teen girl. When she had been with Conrad, she’ll admit she had pictured it a few times, but it had always been less of a what and more of a who. 

She ends up telling him she needs time to think. She says she isn’t sure she can just move past this and that getting married is a huge thing. She asks him to give her some space and that they will hopefully talk soon. He doesn’t take it particularly well but after a few more minutes of begging and trying to paint pictures of married life in her head, he eventually turns to leave, heading towards the parking garage. 

Steven was in the hospital for two days before being released. She checks in on him at least once a day, between her bouts of laying in her bed, and attempting to pack up her dorm room. She sees her mom but doesn’t tell her what happened between everything going on with Steven and this silly need she still has to protect Jeremiah. Jeremiah respects her wishes and does not text her and is not at the hospital when she is there. She does not see Conrad either but hears from her mom that he has been staying in the same hotel as her and has been stopping by to see Steven with plans to head back to California soon. 

Her mom ends up driving Steven back to Philly when he’s discharged, insisting he come home for a while so she can look after him. They stick with the original plan of her dad helping her move out and driving her back home. They talk in the car but she makes sure to keep the conversation away from Jeremiah. If her dad notices her avoidance, he doesn’t comment on it. 

However, her mom is significantly more observant than her dad is, and after a week at home, she finds herself tearfully telling her mom everything. Well, almost everything, she conveniently leaves out the proposal knowing feminist, semi-anti marriage Laurel would not take kindly to a boy proposing to her 20 year old daughter. Her mom holds her on the couch as they watch an old movie. 

“What should I do, mom?” Belly whispers. 

“I don’t know, bean. I can’t make that decision for you. But, I know you. You always listen to your heart and I know you’ll do what’s best for you, just give yourself some time to figure out what that is. “

*

Belly had not done much since she got home, apart from occasionally hanging out with Taylor (which involved them both wallowing and usually eating junk food), messing with Steven, and working her shifts at Bears. Jeremiah had texted her once and after staring at it for what felt like hours, decided not to respond. 

The dedication was now only a day away and she could feel the anxiety building. She knew she would have to see him and didn’t know if she was ready for that. Her mom had told her she didn’t have to go if it would be too much, but she had told her this wasn’t about her. This was for Susannah and she was going to be there, seeing her ex (is that what he was?) boyfriend be damned. 

She had also overheard her mom on a phone call with Conrad a few nights ago. He had apparently stayed in town and was now planning to be at the dedication. He let her know that he and Jere had decided to each just give their own short little speech one after the other. Her mom was so happy he was going to be there and they planned to all go to a nice dinner at a local restaurant in Cousins after. 

Belly wasn’t sure how she felt about this new development. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of him over the past few weeks. She had admitted to herself that it had been nice to see him at the hospital but tried to convince herself  that it was just the nostalgia of being around someone you grew up with. It was just going to be good to get to see him again, maybe hear more about his life, that was it. Maybe they’d even get to hug again, a little part of her brain crooned. 

Her mom would have to drive back to Philly after the dinner (her mom had some writing workshop) and Steven was going to take the train back to Boston since he was finally going back to work the next day. She had asked her mom if she could stay in Cousins for a bit. She felt like swimming in the pool and walking along the beach might help her finally figure everything out. She knew Jeremiah wouldn’t be there since he had started his internship with his dad and Conrad had plans to go back to California. The idea of being able to be alone in the beach house felt perfect. Then maybe they could all meet up there and have dinner for her birthday. 

Her mom had agreed and she had packed her bigger suitcase full of summer necessities, (somehow an old Cousins t-shirt that wasn’t even hers ended up tucked in there).  She even made plans with Taylor for her to maybe come up for a weekend, and after hanging up, she settled into her blankets, ready to get some rest for what was sure to be a long day. 

That night, she had a dream about Conrad:

She was at the beach house in Cousins but some part of her knew she was dreaming. It had the hazy, bright quality that dreams have. Plus, she was in Conrad Fisher’s bed. Her eyes peaked open, squinting at the morning light coming through the open window. She could vaguely hear the waves outside. She felt warm and cozy then, dream her distinctly realized she was naked and there was an arm slug loosely across her and a finger tracing a pattern slowly on her shoulder.  She turned her head to her right and saw him there. He was awake too and just staring at her, a look of pure love in his eyes. 

“Good morning Mrs. Fisher,” he said sleepily, he leaned in and kissed her then. It started all lazy and slow, before turning deeper, hotter. His tongue was licking into her mouth now and he had rolled so he was on top of her, bracketing her in with his arms. He was naked too, she noticed joyfully. 

He began trailing kisses down her neck, her breasts, stopping to take each nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, one of his hands coming to pinch the other. He trailed down lower, lower, and lower. Her hand flew to his hair, and there glinting in the morning light on her left ring finger was what she recognized as Susannah’s ring. 

“Conrad”, she moaned. 

She woke up, covered in sweat and embarrassingly wet. She groaned before shoving her face into her pillow, desperately hoping she could fall back asleep. 

*

The day of the dedication she had gotten ready meticulously. She just really wanted to look nice, she told herself. She had shaved her legs (twice), spent a good amount of time doing and re-doing her eyeliner, and had spent over an hour curling her hair before pulling half of it up in a little twist at the back of her head. Would she have done all of this if he wasn’t going to be there?

She wore this lilac colored chiffon dress she had fallen in love with while shopping with her mom and Susannah a few years ago. Her mom had told her it was too expensive, but she had later found it slipped into her suitcase at the end of the summer. She put on some strappy white heels which she had to admit looked silly next to the patterned bandaid on her leg from where she had cut herself shaving. 

“You look beautiful, bean. You got this, it’s going to be a wonderful day.” Her mom said to her, ruffling a strand of her hair. They loaded up everything into the car before the three of them were on their way, things feeling vastly different then the last time they had all made this trip together. 

Conrad

Jeremiah Fisher’s pretty face was very lucky that Conrad had been practicing self-control for years. He was also lucky that in a fight or flight situation, Conrad was much more of a flight kind of guy. While the desire to murder his brother (in front of a hospital, mind you) had been strong he knew Belly would have hated him if he had run out there and tackled Jere to the ground. So, instead of challenging his brother to a duel to the death, he had run away. 

He had heard Laurel mention a hotel she was staying at earlier and he ended up staying there for two nights. He ended up having breakfast with her the morning Steven was being discharged. He had gone to see Steven twice and luckily had not encountered his brother there. He also had not seen her either. 

He knew Laurel could tell something was wrong, but she was not prying. She had thanked him for being here and he had told her he would likely have to go back soon, unsure whether he could make it to dedication or not. She told him she understood, and talking to her had soothed some of the anger that had been in his chest the past few days. He was careful not to directly ask about Belly, but Laurel gave him a few bits of information, including that John was planning to drive Belly home later today. 

He had almost called or texted Belly several times, staring at her contact picture. It was still one he had taken of her on the beach in Cousins. He didn’t know what to say to her yet though. He also didn’t know how her conversation with Jeremiah had ended. For all he knew, maybe they were back together. 

No, that couldn't be true. Belly wouldn’t put up with that, would she?

He had however gotten up the courage to call Agnes and had ended up telling her everything. He had told her he should probably just take the next flight back to California. 

“God, no dude. This is your shot. It’s like the universe is spoon feeding you a second chance with her.” Agnes said excitedly. She drove him nuts sometimes but he had to admit Agnes was a very good friend to him. 

He couldn’t deny that he had thought about what a second chance with Belly would be like. Or what it would have looked like if they had gotten together later, during a time when it didn’t feel like his whole world was crumbling around him.  He was much more stable now than he had been then. He still felt too much sometimes but had a better grasp on how to get through it. He hated to admit it, but therapy had done wonders for him. He realized all the mistakes he had made back then and liked to think he had grown enough that he wouldn’t fall into those same patterns. He had just always figured he would never get even a semblance of a chance to prove it to himself and most definitely not to prove that to her. 

He had made his bed when he lied to her in that motel room. He had always hated himself for lying to her, seeing the hurt spread across her face had nearly broke him. Hell of a lot of good that lie did. Now a part of him desperately wanted her to know that he had been lying. To ask how she could ever believe that he didn’t want her. To tell her he would want her always, to do whatever needed to be done for her to believe that. 

This thought, Agnes telling him she’d kill him if he came back now, and also the desire for a cheating Jeremiah to not be the only one to speak at his mom’s dedication led him to taking the train to Boston. 

He had gone to his dad’s loft where his car was being stored in the parking garage. He had talked to Adam and even thought about trying to stay there for a few days before Adam was making plans for the three of them to have a ‘guys night’ when Jere got there. He could not bear the thought of eating dinner with two men who had hurt the two most important women in his life. Also, despite his self-control, he felt it best the night didn’t end in a brawl. With that he had packed up his stuff, including his gray suit (that was luckily not lost when the Boston house had sold), and told his dad he was actually going to head towards Cousins to see some friends. That’s where he had been ever since. 

He actually had met up with some old friends and it had been a nice distraction, he even checked in on Ernie. They sat and drank a couple of beers into the late afternoon. 

 He keeps up his regular run routine and even hits up the local gym most days, often meeting up with a friend. He also goes surfing. The outside of the Cousins house feels safer than the inside. He wonders if he would ever stop looking for his mother inside that house. 

He eventually gets up the courage to let Laurel know he will be there at the dedication, basically forcing himself to stick to the plan. She mentions dinner and he says he might be there but has plans with a friend so he might have to dip out early. The idea of having to watch Belly and Jeremiah at dinner makes his stomach turn. 

On the day before the dedication, he has a virtual appointment with his therapist which felt much needed. He sits at the table on the deck, still in his wet suit, laptop in front of him.  He had inadvertently locked Belly out of therapy. He felt like if he had talked about her he would never be able to move on from it. But now, he finds himself telling Ryan everything. 

They talk about his fears surrounding being around everyone and his tendency to hide how he’s truly feeling. They also do a couple of visualizations and roleplay scenarios. 

“If I was her and you were being truly honest, what would you want to say to her?” Ryan asks. 

Conrad thinks about this question seriously for a few moments. A few weeks ago he would have said he hoped on that day he could get in and get out quickly with as little interaction with her as possible. That doesn’t quite feel right now, he feels like that would only be running away again. 

“I guess I would want her to know that I’m sorry. Sorry for everything I put her through, sorry for what Jere now put her through. And then I guess I’d want her to know the truth.”

“Which is?”

He lets out a whoosh of air, “That I pushed her away because I thought she deserved better. That I love her, that I did back then too. That I understand if she doesn’t forgive me and that I just hope she's happy” 

They also talk about what he could say to his brother. Ryan tells him to take his time and they talk about how it is likely bringing up the  memory of finding out Adam had cheated on his mom. Conrad agrees, that’s exactly what it feels like. It feels like he is 18 again hearing his mom sob over his dad’s betrayal. They work together to process this a bit and end the session with a body scan and grounding exercise. 

Conrad feels better after the session but still very unsure on what tomorrow will look like with so many variables. He cooks himself his usual grilled chicken, quinoa, and veggies for dinner. He also really does make plans with a friend for tomorrow evening, in case he needs an escape route.

Later that night it takes him hours to fall asleep, but when he finally starts to drift off, her face is the last thing he thinks of. 

Belly 

Her stomach is in knots most of the car ride, yes because of Jeremiah but also part of her knew it was because of him. He had always made her feel that way, nervous and excited, he was the boy who had truly taught her what the phrase ‘butterflies in your stomach’ meant. When they get close she opens her window and sticks her head out. Seeing and smelling it still feels a bit like coming home. 

They get to the garden a few minutes early and have time to walk around before the ceremony portion. It truly is beautiful and she knows Susannah would have loved it. The fluffy hydrangeas everywhere remind her so much of the front garden at the beach house. 

After a few minutes she sees Adam and Jeremiah arrive. They are in conversation with the woman in charge of the women’s shelter when Jeremiah sees her. They make eye contact and he gives her a small smile and a wave. She waves back before turning away from him. 

Someone announces that it’s almost time for the program to start and so the three of them begin walking towards  their seats. That is when he arrives. 

He is in a light gray suit, white, shirt, and a black tie. His hair is parted but some strands still fall into his face and he sweeps them back as he walks. There’s a flash of what his fingers had looked like trailing down her body in her dream but she quickly tries to shake it away. She hadn’t noticed at the hospital but he’s tanner than she remembered, like he spent days in the California sun. He is walking right towards them and her mom stops so he can catch up.

She finds herself smiling at him as he pulls her mother, then brother into a hug. Then suddenly he’s in front of her, arms open. She stills for a minute before walking into them. He wraps her into a tight bear hug, even tighter than the one at the hospital. Her feet even leave the ground for a few seconds and she hears herself let out a breathless laugh. 

“It’s good to see you all again,” She hears him say but he’s looking at her

“Yeah it’s rare we see you two times in a year Connie, let alone twice in one month,” her mother says, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Well we all better go take our seats, good luck Connie.”

Conrad smiles then goes to take his seat next to the podium by Jeremiah. The three of them sit in the front row. 

The woman in charge of the shelter opens up the program. She shares how important Susannah was and the difference her work and contributions made. 

Jeremiah speaks next. He talks about how important the shelter was to his mom, how much she cared for the women there, and how much she would love this garden. 

Conrad is last. He talks about how Susannah was literal sunshine to everyone she met, how she just had this innate ability to make each person feel so special and loved. He talks about the hydrangeas, how she would bring them into the house to brighten everything up. He ends by reading her favorite poem, ‘maggie and milly and molly and may’ by E.E Cummings:

Maggie and milly and molly and may

Went down to the beach (to play one day)

And maggie discovered a shell that sang

So sweetly she couldn’t remember her

Troubles and

Mily befriended a stranded star

Whose rays five languid fingers were;

And molly was chased by a horrible thing

Which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and 

May came home with a smooth round stone

As small as a world and as large as alone. 

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)

It’s always ourselves we find in the sea

There are tears in his eyes but he is smiling as he finishes. She realizes there are tears in her eyes too but she is also smiling and looking up at him; he looks right back at her before stepping down from the podium. The first woman is back up at the podium, thanking everyone for coming, and thanking Susannah again. They are still looking at each other and she can feel her cheeks turn pink. 

It breaks eventually when everyone starts to stand and clear out. They walk towards the back to wait for Adam, Jeremiah, and Conrad. She sees them walking up and they lock eyes again, but it’s Jeremiah that reaches her first. 

“Bells, please, can we go talk for a few minutes.” he says tugging at her arm. Her eyes snap to him. She doesn’t feel ready for this, she has not made up her mind. “Uhm, yeah sure.” She finds herself saying anyway. 

He pulls her then, interlocking their hands, towards the garden, farther away from the group that lingers. “Hurry back, we need to get to the restaurant soon,” she hears her mom call after them. She glances back and catches a glimpse of a frowning Conrad as Jeremiah drags her out of sight. 

Conrad

He had gotten there late intentionally. He was in no mood to make small talk with Jere and his dad. So when he gets there most people are already moving to take their seats. He can see Jere in a seat by the podium, an empty one next to him. That’s when he sees her. She’s walking with Laurel and Steven towards their front row seats. 

She’s in this lovely light purple dress that falls just above her knee. Her hair is down but swept out of her face and she’s wearing (fairly tall) white heels. His eyes trail down her legs and he notices a brightly colored bandaid which makes him chuckle to himself. Nevertheless, he thinks she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. 

Laurel must see him because she pauses and the three of them wait for him to catch up. He picks up his pace and reaches them quickly. He hugs Laurel, Steven, and then turns toward her, arms open wide. I mean, it’d be weird if he didn't, right? She steps into them and he envelopes her tightly, her feet leaving the ground. Yeah, he can manage being around his dick of a brother for a few hours if it means getting to hold her like this. 

They announce the program will be starting and he leaves to take his seat next to Jeremiah. Jere gives him a curt ‘hey’ when he sits next to him and Conrad just nods, not trusting his voice. 

The program goes by quickly. He feels nervous and honestly doesn’t hear most of Jere’s speech. He takes some deep breaths, preparing to give his own. When he gets to the podium, he finds her eyes in the first row and begins. 

After the program he’s stopped by many people, some complimenting his speech, others offering their condolences, and some talking about how amazing his mother was. The three of them eventually break away ready to head to dinner. 

Laurel, Steven and Belly stand behind the rows of chairs, waiting for them. He catches her eye and they smile at each other. He wants her to smile at him like that forever, he thinks. 

Jere walks ahead of him and goes straight up to Belly, grabbing her hand. He says something to her before the two of them are walking away, hand in hand, and Conrad’s heart breaks a little. Whatever he thought was happening here, clearly wasn’t. 

He had told himself this was a possibility, but had ultimately believed there was no way Belly had forgiven his brother, but clearly she had, he feels his fists clench at his sides. 

“You coming, Connie,” He hears Laurel say as she starts walking towards the parking lot. 

He would rather shoot himself in the head with a nail gun repeatedly then watch Jeremiah touch her all night. 

He takes a breath, trying to steady himself before answering her. He follows them to the parking lot.

“You know what Laur, I don’t think I’m going to make it to dinner. I really want to catch up with that friend and then I have to head back to California tomorrow” Already making a plan to search up flights the second he gets to the car. 

“Alright, well your speech was beautiful and it was so good to see you. Text me when you get home, and call me soon,” She says, ruffling his hair. He tries to give her a convincing smile. He says goodbye to her and Steven before all but bolting to his car and driving out of the lot as fast as he can, desperately not wanting to see his brother and Belly walking out of the garden. 

Belly 

Jeremiah was not coming to dinner. 

He had pulled Belly to a secluded part of the garden for their talk. He had been very gentle and sweet at the start of the conversation, holding her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs across her knuckles. He looked at her expectantly and asked if she had decided to accept his proposal. 

Belly looked down at her shoes, a lump forming in her throat. “I just think I need more time apart, Jere, I don’t feel ready to just move on and pretend like it didn’t happen.”

She could feel the shift in him. He dropped her hands and his whole body stiffened, hands shooting up to tug at his hair. “Is it because he’s here,” he all but spat at her

“Because who’s here?” She said, confused. 

“You know who,” anger in every word. 

“Conrad? No! This has nothing to do with him, this is about us! Don’t bring your inferiority complex into this,” she says, angry herself now. 

Anger roles off of him in waves, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he’s nearly yelling now. 

She doesn’t say anything. He scrubs his hands down his face, “I saw the way you guys hugged and were looking at each other earlier, I don’t think you’ve ever looked at me like that. Well, if that’s what you want, go right ahead. Just don’t come crying to me when he messes everything up again.” He turns then and starts stomping off towards the parking lot. 

“Jere,” she calls after him but he’s already out of sight. She stays there for a moment, trying to pull herself together before following him. By the time she gets to the parking lot, his jeep is gone

Her mom is waiting by the car, Steven must already  be inside. “Are you okay, bean?” 

She shakes her head, tears breaking free, as she wraps herself around her mother. “Come on, I guess it’s just the 3 of us for dinner, Adam and Conrad bailed too.” The sting of him not even saying goodbye is just the cherry on top of what is turning into a really shitty night. 

*

Their dinner was a pretty quiet one. Steven had asked her mother in the car what was going on and Laurel had just told him that her and Jeremiah were going through a rough patch. She was grateful her mom had kept the details to herself. 

She barely touches her food at dinner. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to just come back home with me, bean? I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to be alone here.” Her moms asks as she pays the bill. 

“No, I want to stay. I need to think. I feel like being here will help me figure everything out.” Her mom eventually agrees but tells her she will call and come up as soon as possible to check on her. 

Before she knows it, her mom has dropped her off at the familiar grey and white house. She lets herself inside and breathes in the familiar smell. She walks right past the kitchen, so she does not notice the full fruit bowl.  She takes her bag up to her room and pulls out her swimsuit before even making the bed. The doors upstairs are all closed. 

Not even five minutes later, she’s diving head first into the pool.

Chapter Text

Conrad

After leaving the garden, he had considered just driving straight to the airport and waiting there until hopefully some flight could get him back to California. The desire to have thousands of miles between himself and whatever was happening here was strong. Instead, he had driven around for a while and after a conversation with Agnes on the phone, and the realization that he would at the very least need to go back to the beach house for his things, he came up with a more realistic plan. 

He decided he would keep the plans he had made to see his friend. Danny was someone he had known here for years and he was having a little get together at the beach by his house. He would at the very least stop by. 

Agnes had tried to convince him that he was making assumptions and should at least stick around for a few days to figure out what was really going on. However, whenever he thought about staying longer, flashes of their joined hands as they walked through the garden took up way too much space in his head. 

He had resolved he would go to the get-together tonight, sleep at the beach house, book flights in the morning, and then hopefully be back in California by tomorrow night. Agnes had even mentioned that a friend of hers had a lab job he could apply for. He could slip back into his life, acting like this little visit had never happened. Carefully tucking his feelings for her away in a drawer (just like the polaroid he kept). 

Seeing Danny had been nice. He had hung around for a while, Danny sharing some of their older stories with the other party goers. Conrad had laughed along, part of him wishing he could go back to those simple times of his mom catching him coming home buzzed from cheap beer after a beach bonfire. 

After a while, he had separated from the group, just walking alone down the beach, the party sounds giving way to the gentle waves. Something about being on this beach felt grounding but also left this hollow ache in his chest. This beach always made him think of her, memories stretching across decades creeping in just like the tide. 

‘No matter what happens, we’ll always be infinite,’ His own words echoing in his head, and then, he had truly believed them. But then the world had chewed him up and spit him out. The infinite racetrack had broken and he had fallen right off the edge. 

He realized then he had tears in his eyes and scrubbed them away. Being here was always too much. This was why he hadn’t come back in so long. 

*

He eventually made his way back to the happy (and pretty drunk) group still gathered on the beach. He had one drink himself and a hotdog roasted over the fire. He tried to follow the conversation but had a hard time keeping up. He left a while later with a clap to Danny’s back and a thanks for the invite. Danny had hugged him back and asked that they keep in touch. Conrad knew he probably wouldn’t.

He felt exhausted as he drove back to the beach house. Today had been a very long day.

 He got there quickly, parking in the driveway. He walked into the house, toeing off his shoes, arranging them neatly by the food before moving towards the kitchen for a glass of water with plans to head straight to bed. He leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, trying to focus on the cool glass in his hand instead of the swirling thoughts in his head. 

It is then that the open sliding door catches his eye. The screen is closed but he knows for a fact he had not left the door open. 

He thinks for a moment that maybe Jeremiah is here but then remembers he had heard him and Adam talking about needing to head back to Boston tonight for some important work meeting tomorrow morning (God, he truly was becoming Adam’s ‘mini me’). Plus, there had been no red jeep in the driveway and Jeremiah never parked in the garage. 

He walks slowly towards the door, preparing to close it and let the whole thing remain a mystery, when he hears the gentle movement of water. 

A part of him knew then, even before he saw her. 

He slides the screen open and steps out onto the deck, walking towards the pool. He sees her then, gliding across the water, completely in her own little word. The one she escapes to whenever she swims. She’s in a blue and white bikini and he thinks if God is real that he must have done something to end up on his shit list because he is truly being tortured. 

It’s less of a decision and more of a gravitational pull that leads him to sit at the edge of the pool, sliding his ankles into the water, grateful he had changed into shorts earlier. He just watches her then in what would likely be described as awe, no thought of what he plans to say to her when she catches him sitting there. 

He knows he should stand up, walk back inside, and hide in his room. Or pack up and drive away as quickly as possible. Yet, he remains glued in place, eyes following her movement across the water with more precision and focus than any of his medical text books have probably ever seen. She moves quickly and even more determinedly than usual, her dark hair trailing behind her. 

It isn’t until she comes up for air on the side that he sits that she realizes he is there, grasping for the side of the wall, hand brushing slightly against his. She quickly pushes the water out her eyes and turns to look at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in surprise. 

They simply stare at each other for what could have been hours but was in reality probably only a few seconds. She’s breathless, chest heaving from the exertion of the swim. Conrad swears he didn’t look at her chest even once though, he promises. But, if he had, he may have noticed the blush blooming across her chest, extending up her neck, and creeping across her cheeks. 

“I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I truly do think an atomic bomb could go off and you would not hear it if you were swimming,” He says, trying his best to sound lighthearted, but it comes out much more breathless and husky than he intends. It does serve to break the frozen spell they have both been under. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be halfway back to California by now.” She says cooly, letting herself float away from the wall, putting at least a few feet of distance between them. 

“Could ask you the same question,”he says with a smirk, running a hand through his hair. She flashes him a piercing glare which causes him to chuckle and relent. “I’ve been here since Steven got out of the hospital. Just needed a bit of a…break.”

She’s floating on her back, lazily and she stays silent. It goes on long enough that he wonders if she even heard him when she suddenly speaks. 

“I had my mom drop me off. I just wanted to be alone for a bit, needed somewhere I could think and here felt like the right place.” She doesn’t look at him, head stays towards the sky. 

“Well, I can leave you alone then,” but doesn’t find himself getting up to leave. 

“No!” She says, louder than before, pushing herself upright in the water and turning to face him. “No, it’s your house. You don’t need to go. I could go in the morning…” She trails off, treading water, they are fully looking at each other now. 

“No, of course you can stay here, Belly. It’s always been your home just as much as ours,” He says firmly. He wonders then why she is really there and what it is she needs to think about. He sees a small smile appear on her lips.  “Is ummm..Jere coming?” He says in his best attempt to sound casual. 

This was apparently not the right thing to say. She looks away from him again, a frown appearing on her face as her brows kit together. “No, he’s not coming. “She says icily. 

He badly wants to tell that he knows what Jere did. To maybe even be brave enough to really have the conversation he had practiced with his therapist, but he doesn’t. She might be mad at Jere but that doesn’t mean they aren’t together. She’s floated towards him again but her head has turned back towards the sky. 

“Do you, um, want to talk about what’s on your mind?” He says instead of all the other much more intense things running through his head like ‘don’t go back to my cheating asshole of a brother’ ‘be with me’ ‘I love you.’

She’s silent for a few moments, “Mmmm not really,” she changes the subject then, “Your speech was beautiful, by the way. I know Susannah would have loved it. I wanted to tell you that earlier but then you ran off so quickly,” She ends with a hint of annoyance in her voice. 

“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” then he decides he can maybe at least apologize for one thing tonight, “I’m sorry I left so quickly, just wasn’t really feeling up to dinner with….everyone.”

She hums. “You should have come, Adam wasn’t even there, just ended up being the three of us.” 

Three of them? He knew Steven had been with Laurel so that means Jeremiah did not go to dinner. He is aware enough to not ask based on her reaction earlier. He knows it could simply be because Adam and Jere wanted to get an early start back to the city, but he can’t help the feeling that washes over him. He knows he’s probably smiling and if he had to describe the feeling ‘hope’ might be the best word. 

Belly 

Belly wanted to know what kind of game the universe was playing at. 

Here she was trying to get some peace and quiet to figure out her relationship with Jeremiah when he appears out of nowhere, talking to her, and looking way too good in a blue knit polo and linen shorts. When she was younger, it was one of her favorite things when he would come sit at the edge of the pool as she swam. Sometimes he would tease and smirk at her, other times they would have more serious conversations, and sometimes they would just sit in comfortable silence. 

After their brief conversation about the day, they turn to talking about other things. They talk about their current lives. She does not mention Jeremiah, and if he notices he doesn’t say anything about it. They recount some old memories (only the safe ones, mainly from before either of them were teenagers). She floats closer to where he sits, relishing in the sound of his laugh. She does her best to banish the ‘is this what it would have been like if we got it right?’ thought that sends a pang straight to her chest. 

“Well, I’m probably going to head to bed but I guess I’ll see you in the morning?” he asks. He starts to stand, brushing his hands off on the back of his shorts.  She looks up at him and nods, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“And Belly, stay as long as you want, seriously.” 

He starts to walk away and she calls after him, “How long are you staying?” She asks, feeling her cheeks burn. 

He pauses and turns to look back at her, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk that would make 16 year old Belly swoon. “You know, I’m not sure yet. Goodnight, Belly.” He turns and heads into the house (and okay, maybe Belly is still swooning a little bit). 

She floats on her back for a while longer, willing her heart to slow down. The emotions of the day are finally starting to catch up to her and now she is starting to feel ready for bed too. She gets out then, toweling herself off and wrapping it around her body before heading back inside. The house is quiet but he’s left some lights on for her. The chill of the air conditioned house leaves goose bumps on her skin. She stops in the kitchen to grab a glass of water before heading upstairs.

His door is shut but she does see a soft light coming through the bottom. She thinks about knocking to say goodnight again but quickly banishes the thought. 

She grabs her pajamas from her suitcase (just an old t-shirt and some cotton shorts) before heading to take a shower. She stands under the too hot water hoping it will take all her racing thoughts with it. She slides into her clothes and doesn’t bother to dry her hair (which she’s sure she will regret in the morning).

She gets her sheets from the hall closet, finally making her bed up. It’s an act that makes her miss Susannah. She would always get here early in the summer and make sure every little detail was in place for them. She smooths the quilt and sheets Susannah had picked with her in mind all those years ago, the colors a little less bright now and the quilt fraying a bit at the edges. 

She does her regular walk around the room, touching her treasures that she always leaves here. A little collection of her most favorite sea shells, some jewelry, and that glass unicorn (now missing its horn) that Conrad had bought her for her 8th birthday. She eyes the closet for a moment, seeing the dress her mom bought her for the deb ball as well as a stuffed polar bear tucked in the corner on the top shelf.

She finally crawls into bed, staring up at the ceiling and suddenly feels very alone and very sad. She had thought she had everything figured out and now everything had gone to shit. She had figured that Jeremiah was it, she always felt so safe around him. Now, she didn’t feel like she knew who he was at all. 

She didn’t really realize she was crying and she definitely didn’t realize how loudly she was crying, her breath coming out in little gasps. It was not the pretty kind of crying, but the kind where it feels like your body is insisting the pain be heard. She really thought she had gotten it all out last week but she couldn’t help but replay the conversation from earlier. How he had yelled at her and how mean he had been. 

She just lies there on her side, crying, wrapping herself into a little ball on the bed. She’s crying loud enough that she does not hear the soft knock at her door and does not realize she is no longer alone until she hears a soft voice and feels a warm hand on her shoulder. 

“Belly”

She freezes, a sob breaking off in her throat. She sits up and turns to look at him. He is crouched down, hand still reaching out for her, concern in his eyes. 

This for some reason only makes her cry harder. 

“Are you okay? What can I do?” He asks desperately. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, “Can I?’ and he extends his arms towards her and she crumbles. She sinks into his chest, their arms wrapping around each other. She’s sure she’s ruining his shirt with tears (and honestly probably snot) but she can't seem to find it in her to care. He does not seem to care either and simply just holds her tight to his chest. 

“Shh, shhh, shhh,” He says softly. He’s moved one hand to stroke her hair gently. One of her hands is clinging to his shirt. Neither of them really saying anything apart from Conrad’s soothing sounds, him asking her to breathe, her sobs, and jagged breaths. They stay like that for several minutes. 

Eventually, her tears dry up, her breathing starts to slow but they remain there still. 

When she feels like it has finally passed, she gets the courage to look up at him, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened I just..” she trails off, feeling very embarrassed. She lets go of his shirt. 

He loosens his arms around her,  “No you don’t need to be sorry, I’m sorry, I just wanted help I shouldn’t have…” He pulls away fully now and moves to get up from the bed but a small hand on his forearm stops him. 

“Could you um, stay? Just for a little while, I don’t want to be alone.” She says, staring up at him, voice cracking. 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He sits back on the bed. She moves over for him, now laying on the pillow but still facing him. He reaches for the blankets, pulling them up around her. He then moves to lay beside her but remains over the blankets and at what he hopes is a respectable distance. After a few moments he resumes stroking her hair, she hums softly. Neither of them say anything else, just sitting there in silence, breathing in the same air, they look at each other for a while before she closes her eyes. It reminds her of being 6 years old and scared of the dark. Steven and Jeremiah always used to tease her or try to scare her further. But Conrad, Conrad would sit with her, hold her hand, and talk to her about other things until she fell asleep. 

Belly isn’t sure when or how long it takes, but at some point she drifts into unconsciousness. 

*

The light filters in through the window in the morning. She feels a few things when she wakes up. Firstly, she notices her head has that throbbing, heavy feeling that comes after a long and intense cry. Secondly, she feels a heavy warmth pressed into her side and draped across her body. 

She does not open her eyes, she just lays there not ready to conscious, willing her head to stop feeling like an overinflated balloon. The warm feeling is nice, though, comforting against the chill of the early morning. She probably would have stayed just like that for hours longer if she wouldn’t have felt movement. 

Her eyes snap open and the memories from last night come flooding back. Her sobs, his gentle hands in her hair, her asking him to stay….

Well, stay he had. 

She stares at him, sleeping soundly, his right arm slung across her. He looks younger asleep, hair messy, mouth hanging slightly open. She can smell him too and it hurts how familiar it is even after years apart. It always has made her think of clean laundry drying in the sun mixed with salty, ocean air. 

She isn’t sure how long she spends looking at him but at some point he is awake and looking back at her, his green eyes blinking open. They stay like that for a moment before he withdraws his arm and sits up, somewhat startled. 

“Shit. Sorry. I must have fallen asleep.” He rubs his eyes. 

“Yeah, I guess we both did….Umm thank you by the way, for last night. Sorry I was such a mess” She says with a shy smile. He looks at her again. 

“Don’t mention it. And, Belly. I hope you know I’m here if you ever do want to…talk about it.”

She looks away. “Thank you.” They sit in silence for a few moments. 

“Well I suppose I should actually get up and make breakfast. “ He gets out of the bed and pauses to stretch. Belly definitely does not look at the sliver of skin that shows from his shirt riding up. She moves to get up too, regretting choosing to wear such short pajamas. She plans to head towards the bathroom but catches him staring. 

“Is that my shirt?”

Fuck, she thinks. 

Chapter Text

Belly

For a moment, she thinks about lying. Saying something dumb, like oh, I’m not sure, It was just left in the drawer in my room.  But the way he’s looking at her—half amused, half something else entirely—makes her cheeks burn hot enough to set the whole room on fire.

“I—uh—must have accidentally thrown it in my bag,” she stammers, tugging at the hem like she can somehow make it longer. The shirt hangs off her loosely,  impossibly soft and worn thin, and she hates how natural it feels against her skin.

Conrad just nods slowly, lips twitching into that half-smile that always manages to both infuriate and undo her. “Guess it suits you better anyway,” he says, and the air between them shifts, heavy with unspoken things.

She should say something back—something light, teasing—but all she can do is stare at him. His hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction, and there’s a crease on his cheek from her pillow. He looks so human like this, so close and tired and real, and she feels that dangerous flutter start in her chest again.

He clears his throat first. “I’ll, uh, start breakfast. You want pancakes or eggs?”

“Coffee,” she manages. “Just… coffee.”

He nods again, but neither of them moves. It’s ridiculous, this stand-off in the middle of the morning sunlight, both of them pretending not to notice how last night is still clinging to the air between them.

Finally, he steps toward the door, hands shoved in his pajama pants pockets. “Guess it belongs to you anyway, been yours longer than it was mine” he says quietly, not looking back before disappearing down the hallway. 

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

The ocean hums outside the window, soft and constant. Belly presses her hands over her face and groans into her palms. What are you doing, Belly? she thinks. But even as she says it, she knows she doesn’t really want to stop whatever this is—this slow, tentative orbit back toward each other that feels equal parts wrong and inevitable.

She gets up a few minutes later, still wearing his shirt.

Conrad

He’s not sure why his hands are shaking. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s because she’s upstairs right now, wearing his shirt. He remembers the last time he saw her wear that shirt. He also remembers in great detail taking that shirt off of her and throwing it to the floor of the guest bedroom at her house. 

He flips the pancake too early and curses under his breath. It lands half-folded in the pan, a sad, burnt edge curling up at him like a smirk. Figures. He’s good at a lot of things—biology, memorizing parts of the human body, pretending he doesn’t care, ruining perfectly good moments, he’s even gotten pretty good at cooking chicken—but not pancakes.

He turns off the burner, pressing his palms flat against the counter. He can still feel the ghost of her weight against him from last night—the way she fit into the curve of his body, shaking until she didn’t. The sound of her breathing as it finally slowed down. It had felt so natural, so easy, that for a few stupid seconds before he fell asleep, he’d let himself imagine that nothing had gone wrong between them. That time had bent backward and dropped them back into some kinder universe.

But the morning light ruins that kind of fantasy.

He reaches for 2 mugs (finding the one that had always been her favorite) and fills them with coffee. He leaves room in hers knowing she will for sure be filling it with plenty of cream and a disgusting amount of sugar. 

The sound of footsteps pulls his attention toward the hallway. She’s there, padding barefoot across the kitchen floor, hair wild, eyes still soft from sleep. His shirt falls just to the tops of her thighs. He looks away before he can do something stupid, like tell her how much he misses her thighs being wrapped around his….

“Smells good,” she says, voice small but steady.

“Tastes better than it looks,” he admits. “Although, You might want to save yourself and stick with coffee.”

She smiles a little. It’s shy, almost sad, and somehow that makes it worse.

They sit at the table in the kitchen with their mugs and plates of misshapen pancakes, and fall into a silence that feels fragile but safe. The kind of quiet that used to live between them before…well, everything. 

“You didn’t have to stay last night,” she says finally, fingers curling around her mug. “But I’m… I’m really glad you did.”

He swallows hard. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Belly.” 

She looks down at her coffee, tracing the rim of the mug with her thumb. “Yeah, I guess you have always been good at showing up just when I needed something.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. His chest feels tight, like all the air’s been stolen out of the room. He wants to tell her everything—how he’s sorry for leaving, how he knows about Jeremiah, how he still loves her—but he can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

So instead, he picks up his fork, gestures toward the half-ruined pancakes, and says, “Well, if the universe ever needed proof that I shouldn’t be left unsupervised in the kitchen, this is it.”

She laughs—a real one this time—and the sound hits him like sunlight after weeks of rain.

And for a moment, just a moment, he lets himself believe that maybe this isn’t the end of them. Maybe it’s the beginning of something they just didn’t get right the first time.

*

After their pancake breakfast (that actually ended up tasting better than he thought), he decides he needs some space to breathe. Breathing in the same air as her is sort of dizzying and he feels like he needs to clear his head. 

He ends up going for a long run, pushing his body to the max. 

Every time he thinks he’s hit a rhythm, she’s there again — her voice, the sound of her crying, the feeling of her pressed against his chest last night. 

He pushes harder.

The gulls wheel overhead, the tide low enough that he can cut across the hard-packed sand. His lungs burn, but it’s better than sitting still. Better than replaying every moment in his head.

By the time he gets back, his shirt is drenched, sticking to his chest. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and leans against the counter, letting his breathing slow. He tells himself it’s just another morning, just another run. But the faint sound of her voice echoing in his head makes that a lie.

He showers quickly, then sets up at the kitchen table with his laptop and a pile of notes. He’s supposed to be studying — organic chemistry, some light reading about metabolic pathways — but he can’t seem to make anything stick. The words blur together. His mind drifts.

It’s quiet, except for the occasional creak of the old beach house settling. Then, movement outside catches his eye.

Through the wide glass doors, he sees her.

Belly’s sitting on the deck in one of the loungers, her hair still loose but much less messy, the morning light catching the red in the strands. She’s changed into a lace and cotton cropped blouse and a pair of cutoff shorts. . A book is open in her lap, and her bare feet tap absently, her toes are painted a light blue.

For a second, it’s like time folds in on itself — the years, the heartbreak, the everything — and it’s just her. The little girl who used to chase him down the beach, who’d swim for hours in the pool while he surfed, who always made everything seem simpler than it really was.

He knows he shouldn’t stare. But he also doesn’t look away.

He does his best to go back to his own book and laptop but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t look back up at her every couple of moments. 

*

The morning has turned into early afternoon when she wanders back inside. He has his headphones on and she doesn’t say anything to him, just starts poking around the kitchen. He can hear her close the fridge and a few cabinets when he slides his headphones off. 

“So,” she says, breaking the silence. “Do we have any actual food here that isn’t coffee or expired cocoa mix?”

Cocoa is my specialty, the ghost says in his head.

He laughs, the sound soft but real. “I picked some chicken and stuff up when I first got here, but I guess it’s mostly gone now.

She wrinkles her nose. “So not anything even remotely tasty”

He closes his book and turns to face her. “I guess we will need to head into town”

Belly blinks. “You mean together?”

He meets her gaze. “Unless you’ve got a secret grocery stash I don’t know about.”

She gives him a small smile, “Fine. But you’re driving.”

“Deal.”

*

He tells himself it’s just groceries. Just a normal errand. But the way she laughs in the passenger seat and sings along to her playlist (of course he lets her control the music) it feels like something else—like something he shouldn’t want but does anyway.

When they pull into the tiny grocery store lot, the same one they used to come to with Susannah, he parks a little too far from the door, stalling. The last time he was here with Belly, had been before they all threw that party when they thought they were losing the house. He still thought he had a chance of fixing things then. 

“Earth to Conrad,” she says, tugging on her seatbelt. “Are we getting food or just sitting here all day?”

He shakes himself out of it, managing a smirk. “Right. Food. Serious business.”

Inside, the air conditioning hits him first—cold and sharp. Belly grabs a cart, immediately steering it down the produce aisle like she’s on a mission. She looks back at him occasionally, smiling. It feels like one of those montages in a bad romance movie. 

They move aisle by aisle, tossing things in the cart—pasta, bread, stuff for sandwiches. She teases him whenever he adds something healthy like chicken or vegetables. He tells her all the sugar will eventually catch up to her when she tosses in poptarts and candy.  Occasionally their hands brush on the cart handle or when they both go to reach for something, it feels like a static spark straight to his chest. He pretends not to notice, pretends he’s totally focused on comparing marinara sauces.

She catches him spacing out and raises an eyebrow. “Still a control freak about groceries?”

“Only when I’m grocery shopping with chaos personified.”

She grins, and the sound that leaves her—a little laugh, bright and easy—undoes him in a way he’ll never admit.

At one point, she reaches for a box of Fruity pebbles at the same time he does. Their fingers touch, and she freezes, just for a second. It’s nothing. It’s everything. He recovers first, tossing it into the cart like it’s no big deal. “Still your favorite, right?”

She looks at him for a long beat before answering. “Of course, still yours?” She says, reaching for the much less sweet, shredded wheat. 

He shrugs, half a smile tugging at his mouth. “Some habits die hard.”

At checkout, she tries to hand the cashier her card, but he slides his in first. “Conrad,” she protests, eyes narrowing.

“Apology for my questionable pancake making skills,” he says simply. It’s easier than saying I just wanted to take care of something for you, for once.

Outside, the sunlight feels too bright. The town is slow and warm.

“You want to walk for a bit?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She hesitates, like she’s searching his face for something. Then she nods. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

He looks away, smiling just a little. He tells himself it’s just a walk. Just a few minutes in town. But the truth sits heavy in his chest—he’d follow her anywhere if she asked.

*

They leave the groceries in the car, promising to be back before anything has a chance to spoil. The town feels small and golden, almost painfully familiar, each storefront carrying some memory of summers past.

Belly walks beside him, close enough that their arms occasionally brush.

They pause outside A Whale of a Tale, the bookstore that both Susannah and Laurel used to adore. Conrad remembers the summers when Susannah would drag them all in for one of Laurel’s book signings. 

“She loved this place,” Belly says softly.

Conrad nods. “Yeah. mom, Laurel… they both dragged me in here any chance they got.”

“She would have made you buy a book even if you didn’t want one,” she adds, smiling faintly.

They keep walking, passing the little candy shop, the surf shop, the mural of the lighthouse at the end of the street. Conrad wants to ask about Jeremiah — his brother, the guy he’d once trusted to not hurt her — but the words feel like they might shatter everything delicate between them.

Finally, the words spill out of him. He feels like he can’t keep doing this without knowing . “So… you and Jere. Are you—uh… okay?” His voice is careful, casual, but he can’t stop the tension in his shoulders.

Belly pauses, biting her lip. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“Right. I mean…after the garden” He swallows. “He hasn’t been around and you just haven't mentioned….”

Her fingers twist at the hem of her shirt. He will not let the sliver of skin distract him. She looks away, out at the street, chewing at her bottom lip. “We… it’s complicated,” she murmurs.

Conrad’s chest tightens. He wants to tell her he knows and desperately wants to know what was said after he ran away like a coward both times. 

“Complicated how?” he presses, softer now.

She hesitates. “We… are going through a rough patch. Things got messy.”

“Messy,” he repeats quietly, thinking about the betrayal he overheard. Messy seems like an understatement for cheating.

She laughs softly, the kind of small laugh people use when they’re trying not to cry. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Conrad steps closer without thinking, fighting the urge to ask for the whole story. “Belly…”

“Conrad,” she interrupts, her voice tight, just enough to stop him. “Please. Not now.”

He knows the truth is sitting there, unsaid, shimmering between them. He feels it in her hands fidgeting, in her eyes that won’t quite meet his.

He swallows, forcing himself to keep it calm. “Okay,” he says softly.

She exhales, and for a moment the two of them just stand on the warm pavement, the gulls overhead, the smell of their childhood swirling around them

Belly

The car hums quietly along the winding road back to the beach house, windows down, the salt air curling through her hair. Conrad drives like he always does — one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely near the center console, the kind of easy control that’s so him it almost hurts to watch.

She tries not to think about Jeremiah. Or more accurately — she tries not to think about how to tell Conrad about Jeremiah. The cheating. The fight. The silence after. Conrad doesn’t ask, but he’s always been too smart and she can tell he knows something is up.

Her stomach growls, loud enough that she startles herself.

Conrad glances over, half-smiling. “Hungry?”

She laughs softly, cheeks warm. “A little, we didn’t really have lunch.”

They pass by the old fruit stand that’s been there forever, she looks at it longingly. 

“Want to stop?”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, still staring wistfully out the window. 

Without another word, he flicks the turn signal and makes a sudden U-turn.

“Conrad!” she yelps, grabbing the dash.

He just grins, eyes bright in the late afternoon sun.

When he pulls into the dirt lot, the air is thick with the syrupy smell of ripe fruit, the old wooden stand painted but cracking from the sun. 

She follows him out of the car, her sandals crunching over gravel. “They look so good.”

Conrad slips some money into the bucket then hands her a peach, still warm from the sun. “Here. Taste this one.”

She bites in, the juice instantly bursting over her tongue. It runs down her chin, sticky and sweet. She lets out a small laugh. “Oh my god. That’s the best peach I’ve ever had.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Ever?”

“Ever,” she says firmly. “I kinda don’t want to eat another one because there’s no way it could be this good”

He smirks, already picking another from the basket. “Let’s test that”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Okay”

He holds the new peach out, closer this time — his hand brushing hers as he passes it over.

The world narrows to the heat of the sun, the smell of peaches, and the  brush of his knuckles against her fingers. She takes it, heart thudding, and when she bites, another drop of juice slides down her chin.

“Was it as good?” He says still smiling. She can feel juice running down her neck now. 

“Yeah, it was” She lets out a small laugh as she keeps biting into the peach. She closes her eyes and just focuses on taste.

Conrad chuckles quietly, she doesn’t realize he’s stepped closer until she feels him.  He’s untucked his shirt and has it over his hand, wiping the juice gently from her skin.

The movement is small — barely anything — but it feels like everything. The brush of cotton, the warmth of his fingers, the closeness of him. He brushes around her mouth, her chin. 

This is the most intimate thing that’s ever happened to me, she thinks, pulse roaring in her ears.

When she finally looks at him she realizes how close he is, eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly open. He’s let go of his shirt but his hand reaches up to trail his fingers down her neck, stopping at her collarbone, trailing the line of juice that disappears into her shirt. 

She wishes he would keep going, wishes desperately that he would kiss her. She thinks for a moment that maybe he wants that too.

“You should um….have a taste” She says, breaking the spell. She blushes furiously at how that sounded. “Of the peaches.”

He stares at her for a moment, before smirking. “I would love a taste..” he pauses and if possible, her heart beats even faster. “But, I’m allergic. They make my mouth all itchy.”

Chapter Text

Belly

The drive back is quiet, but not in a bad way. The kind of quiet that hums with something just under the surface — like the air after lightning, charged and waiting. The sun’s low enough now that the sky’s all gold and rose, spilling light across Conrad’s face as he drives.

She can still feel the ghost of his shirt brushing her chin, the warmth of his hand steady and unhurried. She keeps replaying it, the way it made her heart stutter — how something so simple could feel like everything. She has a bag of peaches at her feet, he had insisted he buy her more to take home. 

When they reach the house they carry the bags in together. Well, she carries two bags and Conrad quickly grabs the rest. They both get inside the house, placing the groceries on the counter. They put things away in the places they have always gone. 

“Hey are you still hungry?” he says, leaning against the counter. 

“I could eat.”

*

They don’t plan on getting drunk. It just kind of happens.

It starts with Conrad pulling a bottle of white wine from the fridge that neither of them knows where it came from.

It’s sweet and light, and it tastes like summer — like all the ones they thought would last forever.

They cook together, laughing through the whole thing — her teasing him for measuring olive oil like he’s in a chemistry lab, him teasing her for somehow burning the garlic. He insists on adding greens to the pasta (“You need actual vitamins, Belly”), and she rolls her eyes so dramatically he nearly chokes on a laugh. She asks him if he ever eats anything but chicken (had insisted he cook some to put on top of their pasta)  and he says no, still laughing. 

By the time they’re halfway through dinner, they’re both flushed and a little loose, laughter coming easy. They continue to drink, pick at their plates, and laugh. They talk about their current lives and a bit of the past. Sort of dancing around the months they were together but then….

Conrad leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, he laughs quietly like he remembered something private. “You know that shirt you were wearing this morning?”

Belly freezes. This was the last thing she had expected him to bring up. She can feel her pulse quicken and she squirms a bit in her chair. “Yeah, what about it, like I said I just sort of threw…”

He cuts her off. “No…I was just thinking about the last time I had seen it.”

Something in his voice makes her stomach flutter and twist at the same time. She knows exactly what he’s referring to — that night that’s stayed tucked away in the back of her mind like a secret. The last time they had been together, in that way. 

Her head is suddenly filled with memories from that night. Her mom giving them a lecture about staying in separate rooms. Her sneaking into the guest room anyway, wearing the same shirt from this morning and a thin panty and bra set. Him kissing the infinity necklace as it rested against her collarbones, her gasping his name, him being inside of her. In retrospect it was probably one the best nights of her life but turned extremely painful due to everything that had happened between them. 

She laughs softly, but her voice shakes. “You remember everything, don’t you?”

“Not everything,” he says quietly, his gaze holding hers. 

She goes to take a sip of her wine, to give herself something to do other than stare at his mouth. 

“But I definitely remember that night.” She chokes a bit, wine sputtering out of her mouth, spilling into her lap, a bit landing on the floor too. She quickly sets her glass down and just stares at him, wondering desperately if the same images that are running through her mind are running through his. 

They just stare at each other for a few more moments, “I bet it’s driving you nuts not to clean that up.” she says and it comes out way too husky. 

“What?”, he says, eyebrows raising. 

“The wine. I spilled on the floor.”

“I didn’t even notice.”

She’s not sure what makes her say it. Maybe it’s the hazy feeling in her head from too much wine, maybe it's the images of him running through her mind. “That’s interesting, considering you were very meticulous with making sure I was cleaned up at the peach stand earlier.”

“Mmmm.” He hums. She’s about to reach for one of the cloth napkins on the table to clean it up herself, but before she can he already has one in his hands. He’s slipped out of his chair and is on his knees in front of her before she can even process. He’s wiping the floor but his face is inches from her thigh. Her breath catches in her throat. 

He finishes cleaning the floor and starts to move away. The sight of him down on his knees before her was stronger than any bottle of wine and had heat pooling low in her stomach. She will, however, blame the wine the next day for what she says next. 

“You missed some.”

His head snaps up, and burning eyes meet hers, looking at her questioningly. 

She doesn’t say anything but lets her eyes move from his down to the lines of spilled wine on her thigh. 

She hears his sharp intake of breath and then she swears he licks his lips. He stays frozen from a few moments, napkin clutched so tightly in his hand. She thinks he will move away, maybe run away. Maybe he’ll run all the way back to California.

His hand with the napkin lifting and resting on her thigh breaks her out of her anxious reverie. He begins to wipe at the wine with a feather light touch, eyes still boring into hers, his other hand coming up to rest on the side of her chair. 

He starts above her knee then trails higher. She feels like she can’t breathe and she’s sure her face is flaming. His touch feels like fire even with the barrier of the napkin, but when he reaches her upper thigh, he lets his fingers that aren’t holding the napkin trail directly onto her skin, just at the hem of her shorts. She’s sure now, that she must actually be on fire. She lets out this breathy gasp that she’s sure she would be extremely embarrassed about if she was capable of having any coherent thoughts at all. 

His mouth twitches into a smirk and he lets out a breathy “Belly.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to get a hold of herself, before pushing her chair away from him. “Thank you, but you know what, I’m really sticky from the peaches and the wine. I’m actually just going to go shower really quick.” Her voice is high and squeaky. She gets out her chair and squeezes past him way too quickly, heading towards the stairs. 

“Thanks for dinner, don’t worry about cleaning up, I’ll do it when I’m done showering.” She calls over her shoulder as she bounds up the stairs, running to the bathroom. She closes the door quickly, pressing her back into the door, hands coming up to cover her face. 

What was she doing?

She had known (and done her best to accept) that a part of her would always love him after seeing him at Christmas. She had spent the weeks after convincing herself it was just in that nostalgic, first love kind of way, that Jeremiah was her future, her forever. 

Now, with her face hot, and an embarrassing amount of wetness in her panties from just two of his fingers brushing her thigh, she wonders if Jeremiah had been a shield she used to protect her from the fact that she doesn’t think she will ever get over Conrad Fisher. 

This thought causes an immense amount of shame to rise in her chest. It however, is not enough shame to stop her from being very glad that the upstairs bathroom has a detachable shower head. 

*

One orgasm, and one hot shower later, Belly is wrapped in a towel, ear pressed to the bathroom door desperately trying to figure out where he is in the house. When she doesn’t hear anything she gets up the courage to poke her head into the hallway. When she doesn’t see him, she practically runs to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. 

She flops on to the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She’s feeling way too many emotions: guilt, elation, anxiety, and a giddiness she hasn’t felt in years. She decides she needs a wake up call and desperately needs to hear a voice that is not Conrad Fisher’s.

She feels way too embarrassed to call her mom right after she had come in the shower to thoughts of Conrad’s fingers, so she calls Taylor. 

It rings twice before her best friend answers with a burst of energy.

 “Finally! I was starting to think you’d drowned in the pool.”

Belly groans. “I wish. I’m having an emotional crisis.”

“Oh no, about Jeremiah?”

“He’s here, Tay, and he’s driving me insane.”

“Jeremiah is there?” 

“Not Jere. Conrad. Conrad is here in Cousins.” She hears Taylor Gasp but she doesn’t say anything for a few moments. 

“Okay, start from the top. What’s going on?”

So Belly tells her — about seeing him at the pool, about the night she cried, about him staying with her until she fell asleep. About making dinner and laughing and maybe drinking too much. She even admits the thing with the peach and then begrudgingly tells her about the spilled wine. 

When she’s done, Taylor sighs dramatically. “Jesus, Belly. That’s not a crisis. That’s foreplay.”

“Taylor!”

“What? I’m just saying — you two have decades of unresolved chemistry. You expect me to act shocked that it’s still there?”

Belly presses her hand to her face. “It’s not that simple. There’s… Jeremiah.”

Taylor’s voice softens. “Right. How are you feeling about that?”

Belly exhales slowly. “Confused. Angry. Guilty. I don’t even know. I thought I had forgiven him, or at least could, but then I think about what he did, and it’s like something breaks all over again. We talked a bit at Susannah’s thing, I told him I wasn’t ready to forgive him and he got so mad..”

“He cheated, Belly. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to not want to fix it.”

“I know, but part of me keeps wondering if it’s my fault too. If I made him doubt us, and maybe he really did think we were broken up.”

Taylor’s voice comes through firm now. “No. Do not start doing that. He made his own choices. You loved him, you showed up, and he still broke your trust. That’s on him.”

Belly stays quiet for a moment, eyes tracing the familiar pattern on her quilt. “He doesn’t even know I’m here with Conrad.”

“Good,” Taylor says quickly. “He doesn’t deserve updates. And honestly? Maybe being around Conrad is exactly what you need to figure things out.”

Belly sits up a little, frowning. “You think so?”

Taylor sighs. “Look, I’m not saying jump back into whatever you two were. But maybe stop running from how you feel. You’ve been avoiding him for years, and he’s still in your head. That means something.”

Belly bites her lip. “I’m just scared, Tay. What if I let him back in and he leaves again? What if I end up right where I started?”

“Then at least you’ll know,” Taylor says gently. “You can’t spend your whole life protecting yourself from a maybe. Sometimes you just have to find out. And, there’s clearly some feelings there. If you and Jeremy do end up back together, he’s Conrad’s brother, you won’t be able to just avoid all of this forever.”

There’s a long pause, just the sound of the ocean outside the window and Taylor breathing on the other end.

“I miss you,” Belly says softly.

“I miss you too. But I’m proud of you, you know? For even being honest about this. Just… promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“If he starts hurting you again — in any way — don’t wait around hoping he changes. Come home.”

Belly nods, even though Taylor can’t see her. “I promise.”

“Good. Now go to sleep before you overthink yourself into a spiral.”

“Too late,” Belly says with a small laugh.

They hang up a few minutes later (Taylor promising she will be there for her birthday in less than two weeks) and the room goes quiet again. Belly sets her phone on the nightstand, staring up at the ceiling.

She can still hear Taylor’s words echoing in her head. Sometimes you just have to find out.

And she knows — with a sinking, fluttering, terrifying certainty — that she wants to.

Conrad

He’s still on the ground, frozen, unable to comprehend what just happened. He hears the bathroom door close upstairs. He’s so annoyed at himself and incredibly embarrassed to admit that he’s half hard in his pants. 

He drags a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “You’re an idiot,” he mutters.

He’d spent years building walls between them, patching over every place she’d ever left a mark. And now, one full day with her and he feels like his chest has been cracked wide open. 

He eventually gets to his feet and starts cleaning up, clearing their dishes and putting away leftovers. He washes and dries the dishes, eyes floating to the stairs every few moments, wondering if she will come back down. 

When all traces of the night are washed and wiped away, he finally goes upstairs with plans to shower and change out of his peach juice stained shirt. 

The bathroom is empty now so she must be in her room. He finds himself walking quietly down the hallway  and hovers outside her door. He wonders for a moment if he truly is a masochist. 

He can hear her voice through the door, she must be on the phone. 

He can tell it’s Taylor she’s talking to — the tone is soft and comfortable. He catches a few words — “Conrad,” “dinner,” “complicated” — before the rest fades into a hum. He doesn’t mean to listen, but it’s like the sound of his name glues him to the floor. 

He eventually walks quietly back to the bathroom to shower. And if he jerks off to thoughts of her soft skin and breathy gasps until he’s coming across the shower wall, then that’s his business. 

When he returns to his room with a towel wrapped around his waist, her door is still shut. 

He changes into some sweats and climbs into bed. He pulls the textbook from his nightstand and has it resting against his knees, but he’s barely looked at it and is staring up at the ceiling. 

He imagines her lying on her bed, probably tangled up in a towel or one of her oversized T-shirts, staring at the ceiling. He wonders if she is doing the same thing he is — replaying every moment and wondering what it meant.

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to shake the image from his head.

He wishes, for once, he could be the kind of guy who says what he means. Who doesn’t let everything get lost between his head and his mouth. Because what he really wants to do is knock on her door and tell her he’s sorry — for the years, for the timing, for not being brave enough to hold on when he should have.

But he doesn’t, at least not tonight. 

*

The next two weeks pass in a kind of sun-soaked rhythm. The days stretch long, lazy, and a little too easy. They move around each other like two magnets turned the wrong way—drawn in, then pushing apart again.

Belly swims most mornings. He’ll glance up from his laptop and see her through the glass doors, slicing through the water, hair glinting in the light. Sometimes she catches him watching; he’ll wave, and she’ll give him a small smile before diving back in. 

After her swims, she’ll curl up outside with a book, legs tucked under her, sun warming her shoulders. He tells himself not to notice when she smiles at something on the page.

He works on small projects—tightening the porch railing, fixing a window that’s stuck, youtubing how to fix the light in the living room.  Anything that keeps his hands busy and his thoughts quiet. One day, he’s on the roof fixing some shingles when she comes out in a red bikini. She calls up to him, saying, hi and he drops the hammer. It slides off the roof, falling to the ground. She moves to pick it up but he tells her he has another one. He does his best to keep his eyes on the roof and not on her body as it moves through the water. 

In the afternoons, he studies. She’ll wander into the kitchen for snacks, humming, pretending not to read over his shoulder. 

Evenings are the trickiest. They eat together often enough that it starts to feel like routine—usually some form of chicken and vegetables, sometimes boxed mac and cheese when she talks him out of being too “grown up.” There’s laughter, quick glances that linger a heartbeat too long, and then the inevitable silence that settles between them when they both realize neither has figured out what they are doing here. 

He tells himself it’s fine. That maybe normal is better. That the steadiness of these quiet days is what they both need.

But then there are moments that betray him—the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear while listening to him, the way her eyes flicker to his mouth when she laughs. Little things that undo hours of pretending.

12 days slip by before he realizes it’s almost her birthday.

He catches her that morning, sitting on the counter, eating a pop-tart.

“Is that your breakfast?” He asks, concern coating his voice. 

“It sure is, Dr. Fisher.” She says with a smirk. 

He would never admit it but the ‘Dr. Fisher’ goes straight to his cock. 

“I’m not a doctor, yet, maybe not ever, remember?” He had told her about getting fired in a rare moment of vulnerability when she had decided to go with him on a trip to the hardware store. He had worked really hard to get the words out, the fear of appearing weak making his chest tight. 

“And I told you that was ridiculous, that you deserved the break, and you will be back to saving lives before you know it,” She quipped. 

He just smiles at her for a few seconds before moving into what he really came to ask. 

“Do you have any plans for your birthday?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

She looks up, startled. “Oh, you remembered?”

“I always remember.”

A small smile forms on her lips, “Yeah, actually. My mom, Steven, and Taylor are driving up. They should be here by the afternoon” She hesitates, guilt flickering in her eyes. “Sorry, I should’ve told you sooner, here I am just inviting people over…”

His chest tightens and the words come out more serious than he means them to. “Belly, I told you. It’s pretty much your house too. Plus I’d love to see Laurel and Steven. That is if you don’t mind me joining?” 

“Of course!” she says, louder than before. “I mean, yeah, of course we’d want you there. We will probably just do dinner and hang around outside, nothing crazy.” 

He nods, pretending the next question hasn’t been sitting in his throat all week. “Is—uh, is Jere coming too?” Jeremiah had called him a week and a half ago and he hadn’t answered. He still didn’t feel ready to confront his brother about what he had overheard, especially when he still hadn’t talked to Belly about it. 

The air shifts immediately. She blinks, caught off guard, then looks down at the counter. “No. He’s… he’s not coming.”

Her voice is steady, but there’s something careful in the way she says it.

He just nods again, jaw tightening slightly. “Got it.”

For a second, neither of them speaks. Then she clears her throat, forcing a small smile. “It’s no big deal, it’ll be just like any other summer night.” 

“Right,” he says, already forming a plan in his head of what he could do to make her birthday a good one. 

*

He wakes just after sunrise on her birthday, the sky a soft watercolor wash of pink and blue bleeding into the horizon. The air coming in through his window is cool, he’d left it open last night. 

He lies there for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think too hard about why he’s awake this early. But by the time he’s throwing on a sweatshirt and grabbing his keys, he knows exactly why.

The bakery in town opens at seven and he gets there around 7:30. It’s still early enough that the streets are mostly empty, just a few locals out for coffee and joggers along the shore. The bell above the door jingles when he walks in, and the woman behind the counter looks up with a smile that crinkles her eyes.

“Well, if it isn’t one of my Fisher boys,” she says, already reaching for a paper box. “Back for the summer?”

“Something like that,” Conrad says, smiling faintly.

“You still like the dirt bombs?”

He hesitates, then shakes his head. “Absolutely, but these aren’t for me.”

When he gets back, the house is still quiet, sunlight just starting to reach across the porch. He sets the box of muffins on the table, makes a pot of coffee, and opens a window to let in the ocean breeze.

Out front, the hydrangeas are in full bloom — soft blues and purples. They’d always been Susannah’s favorite, blooming right around Belly’s birthday. He remembers her fussing over them every June, snipping the fullest ones for the kitchen table.

He grabs the kitchen shears and steps outside. The grass is cool and damp under his bare feet as he cuts a few stems, shaking the dew from the petals. When he brings them back inside, the scent hits him — sweet, earthy, like summer in every version of memories that still hurt a little.

He finds one of Susannah’s old vases, fills it with water, and sets the hydrangeas next to the muffins. It’s simple, but it feels right. Like something she would’ve done.

He’s pouring coffee when Belly comes downstairs, hair still damp, wearing a soft, oversized sweatshirt that's slipping off her shoulder. She stops at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide.

“Conrad…”

He glances over, trying to sound casual. “Hey. Happy birthday, Belly.”

Her eyes land on the muffins first, then the flowers. “You went all the way into town?”

He shrugs, handing her a mug. “Figured I owed you. I was kind of a dick the last birthday I saw you.”

Her brows lift, a smile tugging at her mouth. “The one where you pretended you didn’t have a present for me?”

He smirks, remembering. “Yeah, that one.”

“You technically gave it to me eventually” she says softly, sounding a little sad. 

He nods. “Took me a few weeks.”He leaves out her giving him the necklace back, him giving it back to her, and her probably throwing it away. 

There’s a small, quiet beat between them — not awkward, just full of unsaid things and bittersweet memories.

She looks at the table again — the muffins, the vase of blue hydrangeas catching morning light. Something shifts in her expression, and she sets the coffee down before walking toward him.

“Thank you,” she says, voice barely above a whisper.

He starts to respond, but before he can, she’s closing the space between them and wrapping her arms around him.

It knocks the breath right out of him.

For a second, he doesn’t move — his hands hover in the air, useless — and then instinct takes over. He exhales, his arms coming up around her, slow and uncertain, like he’s afraid she’ll pull away too soon.

She smells like citrus, sweet vanilla, and something just entirely Belly. 

When she finally lets go, he has to look away for a second, focusing on the hydrangeas instead of the way his pulse won’t slow down.

She walks over to the table, sitting down in a chair before pulling one of the muffins from the box. 

“Dirt bombs,” he says, smiling. “Would’ve been an insult to get anything else.”

She laughs — bright, easy — and the sound fills the kitchen in a way that feels like the house has been waiting for it.

“They’re perfect, and still a little warm!” she says before taking a huge bite. 

Chapter Text

Belly

The house feels different after breakfast — warmer somehow, softer. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee still lingering in the kitchen or the sight of the hydrangeas on the table, their petals catching the sunlight. But really, it’s Conrad.

She keeps replaying the moment over in her head — the muffins, the flowers, the way he looked at her like there hadn’t been years of space between them. And the hug. God, the hug. She hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even thought about it — one second she was saying thank you, the next she was in his arms, his heartbeat loud and steady against her cheek.

He had gone outside after breakfast, saying he needed to fix something on the porch. He had taken his sweatshirt off and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t stared at him through the window for a minute, eyes fixed on the lean muscles of his back. Being around him made her feel like she was 16 again and she wasn’t sure if she loved or hated that. 

She eventually wanders upstairs to get ready for the day. She sits at the vanity in her bedroom, brushing her hair, curling it, then pulling half out of her face. She does her make up next, still keeping it fairly natural with pink cheeks and her signature eyeliner. 

She’s standing in front of her closet trying to decide what to wear when her phone buzzes on her desk, jolting her out of the moment. She glances down — Jeremiah. His contact picture sends a pang to her chest.

For a second, she considers ignoring it. But it’s her birthday, and maybe that’s reason enough to answer. She exhales and swipes to pick up.

“Hey,” she says softly.

“Happy birthday, Bells.” His voice is familiar — warm, sweet, but laced with something uncertain. “I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”

“I almost didn’t,” she admits.

“Yeah, I figured.” He laughs a little, but it doesn’t reach his voice. “So… what are you doing today? You back at your mom’s? I was thinking if you’d let me I could drive down to Philly tomorrow and take you to dinner.”

She hesitates. “I’m at Cousins.”

There’s a pause. She can picture him running a hand through his hair, frowning. “Cousins?

“I felt like I needed to think so I just stayed after the garden dedication. To clear my head.”

“Clear your head. Just there alone?” He repeats it, like he’s turning the words over. 

She closes her eyes, she should be surprised that Conrad had not told Jeremiah that they were both in Cousins but she isn’t based on their historical communication. “Umm no not exactly alone, My mom, Steven, and Taylor are coming up today….and ummm Conrad is here too.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long while and she wonders for a moment if he hung up but then he speaks, an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. “You’re in Cousins with Conrad.” 

“Jere, it’s not like that. It was an accident. I came here to think about everything not even knowing he was going to be here. I guess he decided to take a break for the summer….” 

He cuts her off sharply, “And you just stayed there with him and you guys have just been there together for almost a month?” She can tell he’s angry now. She feels tears prickling her eyes. She hates seeing Jeremiah upset. She’s done whatever she can over the past few years to see him as happy as possible. 

He takes a deep breath and sighs. “Look, I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I can’t stop thinking about you, Bells. I love you so much and I can’t stand the thought of you and him there together when you will barely even talk to me. 

Her throat tightens. “Jere, don’t.”

“I mean it,” he insists. “Come on, Bells. You know we’re supposed to end up together. We’ve always been meant to be. Just— picture it, okay? You and me. We get married, we find a place that’s all our own. Maybe I’ll keep working for my dad to support us while you finish school. We can have dinner parties at our place with our friends.  Just think about what it would be like, can you do that for me?

Her eyes sting. For a second, she almost lets herself imagine it — the safety of it, the familiarity, his golden, smiling face. But even in her mind, it feels blurry, unfinished. Like trying to paint over something that won’t stop bleeding through. If he had asked her this two months ago she thinks she would have said yes in heartbeat, to this safe life with Jeremiah. 

However, a lot had changed. Yes there were her weird, confusing feelings when it came to Conrad but this went beyond that. While she had been sad since the breakup, she also started to feel lighter. Like a weight had been lifted. In some ways she missed Jeremiah, but in others it was so freeing to be able to put her own needs, wants, and desires first. She realized in that moment how many times she had pushed what she wanted to the side in favor of making sure Jeremiah was okay and happy. She realized that after over a month of not doing that anymore that she felt more herself than she had in a really long time. 

She loved Jeremiah and it was very nice to feel loved and wanted by him. Finding out about the cheating and being apart had popped the bubble of their perfect relationship in her head. She realized — especially in the beginning — that they had clung to each other through grief and sadness, both desperately needing to feel wanted and loved. She realized she had let that need to be loved take over a good portion of her life, and she didn’t think she wanted to live for someone else anymore. 

“I can’t,” she whispers.

“What do you mean you can’t?” His voice sharpens, hurt spilling through. 

“You know I love you Jere, but after finding out what you did and spending this time apart, I feel like I got lost in us— I can’t picture that future right now. Not when I’m still trying to figure out who I am, what I want.”

“Is it because of him?” he asks quietly.

She doesn’t answer.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He exhales shakily. “It’s always him.”

“Jere—” She’s ready to tell him, once again, that not everything is about his brother. 

But the line goes dead.

Belly stares at the screen, the call ended, her reflection staring back at her — tear-bright eyes, hair falling loose around her shoulders.

She sets the phone down and sinks onto the edge of the bed, trying to breathe through the ache in her chest. She hates that she’s hurting him, but she knows at some point she has to be honest with herself. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them in the long run. She remembers Susannah telling her that she was always a girl that knew her own heart. She feels like she lost that for a while, and hopes she can get back to it now. 

*

By the time Laurel’s car pulls into the driveway, the tightness in Belly’s chest still hasn’t fully gone away. She’d tried to distract herself — touching up her makeup that had been smudged by tears, changing into a white sundress, cleaning up a bit and making the beds for her mom and Steven  — but Jeremiah’s voice kept looping in her head, those last words echoing like static: It’s always him.

She runs out to the porch steps when she hears tires crunch over the gravel. Taylor’s already hanging halfway out the car window before it even stops.

“Birthday girl!” she yells, waving her arms like she hasn’t seen Belly in years.

Belly can’t help but smile. She runs down the steps and Taylor barrels into her, nearly knocking them both over.

“You’re here!” Belly laughs.

“Of course I’m here,” Taylor says, pulling back to look at her. “Like I’d ever miss your birthday. You’re officially twenty one, Cinderbelly — that’s, like, a huge deal.”

Steven climbs out of the backseat, holding what looks like three grocery bags and a box wrapped in pink paper. “Don’t listen to her, you’re still basically twelve.”

“Steven!” Belly smacks his arm, but he grins.

And then Laurel’s out of the car, smiling that quiet, steady smile that always makes Belly feel grounded, she pulls a cake out of the back seat. “Hi, bean.”

Belly hugs her mom tightly, breathing her in — warm, clean, and a bit of cinnamon. For a moment, it’s like everything inside her finally stops spinning.

When they walk into the house, Conrad’s there, dressed now in a knit polo and slacks, hair still wet from the shower he must have just taken. Laurel’s face lights up when she sees him. 

“Connie!” she exclaims, setting her purse and the cake down on the counter. 

He smiles, almost shyly. “Hey, Laur.”

She pulls him into a hug without hesitation, her voice soft. “Belly told me you were staying here for the summer, it’s so good to get to see you this many times ”

“It’s always good to see you too.” he murmurs.

Belly watches the way her mom lingers for a moment, hand on his shoulder, like he’s her own kid. They’ve always had such a special bond.  Steven claps him on the back and they exchange some joke about sports, seeming like they had worked through their differences too. 

Soon, they’re all sitting around the kitchen table, eating a late lunch — cold sandwiches, fruit, and leftover muffins from that morning (Steven had basically swallowed two of them and she had snatched the box away saying they were her birthday present). The windows are open, and the ocean breeze drifts through, carrying laughter and the sound of gulls.

It almost feels normal. Almost. There’s always that pang of Susannah not being here and now the slight elephant in the room of Jeremiah being absent. She is grateful that no one mentions it. 

When lunch wraps up, Laurel stands and starts gathering plates. “I was thinking we could make a nice dinner tonight — maybe grill some fish and have cake for dessert, I did my best with Beck’s recipe”

Conrad nods. “I can drive into town and grab what we need.”

Steven shrugs. “I’ll come — make sure you pick out the good stuff.”

Laurel laughs. “Good idea. I’ll tag along too — might as well stock up while we’re there.”

Belly opens her mouth to protest, but Taylor’s already grinning at her. “Perfect. Belly and I can stay here and set up for dinner.”

“Or gossip,” Steven mutters.

“Both!” Taylor fires back.

The three of them — Conrad, Laurel, and Steven — head out a few minutes later. Belly watches from the porch as the car disappears down the road, then exhales, finally letting her shoulders drop.

She and Taylor wander up to her room to put her bag away before heading back downstairs and outside to sit at the edge of the pool.

“Okay. Spill.”

Belly groans. “You’re so predictable.”

“And you’re terrible at hiding when something’s eating you alive.” Taylor gestures at her. “You’ve been smiling since we got here, but your eyes are all—” she waves her fingers dramatically, “tortured heroine vibes.”

Belly sighs, curling a strand of hair around her finger. “Jeremiah called this morning.”

Taylor’s expression softens. “Oh, Belly.”

“He wished me happy birthday,” she says quietly. “And then he asked where I was, and I told him I was in Cousins.”

Taylor raises an eyebrow. “And then?”

“And then he asked if I was alone and I told him Conrad was here.”

Taylor winces. “Oof.”

“He got really upset,” Belly continues, twisting her bracelet around her wrist. “He asked if I’d picture our life together — getting married, settling down — and I just… I couldn’t. I told him I can’t do this right now.”

Taylor is quiet for a long moment. “That must’ve been hard.”

Belly nods, swallowing. “Yeah. It was. But also…” She hesitates, staring at the beach. “Also, I felt… free. Like I could finally breathe.”

Taylor tilts her head. “Free how?”

“I don’t know,” Belly admits. “With Jeremiah, I always felt like I had to be the version of myself he fell in love with — easy, happy, uncomplicated. But these last few weeks, since we broke up… I’ve just felt more like me. I’ve been reading again, swimming every morning, actually listening to my own thoughts.” She laughs softly. “It’s scary, but it’s kind of amazing too.”

Taylor smiles. “That’s growth, Belly. You know I’ve always liked Jeremy — well, until he became a cheating asshole — but he did sorta become the center of your whole universe.”

Belly nods. “Yeah I guess he did. I didn’t really see it until we were apart. It’s nice to just let myself focus on me for a minute.”

“That makes sense, Belly, that’s what your early twenties are for!”

Belly shrugs. “And then there’s Conrad.”

“Ah,” Taylor says, smirking. “How have things been being around him again? Is he still a brooding know it all?”

Belly hides her face in her hands. “He’s just… different. Calmer. Kinder, even. And the way he surprised me this morning — the hydrangeas, the muffins — it wasn’t big or flashy, but it felt so him. Like he remembered who I was, and he wanted to make me feel special without saying anything.”

Taylor watches her, quiet for a moment. “You love him.”

Belly looks up, startled.

Taylor just shrugs. “You don’t have to say it. It’s written all over your face. You’ve always loved him and I don’t think you ever really got over everything before you jumped into being with Jeremy.”

Belly bites her lip. “I feel so confused. I don’t know if I can go through that again. With him. I was so hurt, and I think you’re right. I think I wanted to be loved so badly and he didn’t want to, or maybe couldn’t give that to me.”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” Taylor says gently. “Maybe you just let it be whatever it is right now. No labels. No expectations.”

Belly nods slowly. “Maybe.”

Taylor stands, stretching. “Come on. Let’s make the table pretty before they get back. You deserve a beautiful 21st birthday dinner,.”

Belly laughs, and for the first time that day, it doesn’t feel heavy.

They go into the kitchen to gather everything, Taylor insisting on nice plates and candles. They decide it’s way too nice of a night to not eat at the table outside. Everything right now is messy and complicated and terrifying, but for the first time in a long while, she feels something that almost feels like peace.

Conrad

When they get back, the house feels different. Softer, somehow. The late afternoon light slants through the kitchen windows. He takes the grocery bags into the kitchen. He can see Taylor and Belly outside, getting the table setup. She had placed the hydrangeas he had picked for her this morning in the center. 

He busies himself with helping Laurel start dinner when they both walk inside. He knows he had just seen her less than two hours ago but the beauty of her smacks into him anyway. She’s smiling at something Taylor is saying and her hair is pulled back out of her face. She’s wearing this white, sleeveless sundress that he thinks should be illegal. 

Laurel takes charge of the kitchen, naturally, delegating tasks like a general. “Conrad, you’re on the grill. Steven, please don’t burn anything. Taylor, finish setting up the table. Belly—sit. It’s your birthday.”

Belly laughs. “You’re very bossy.”

“Tradition,” Laurel says with a smile.

Outside, Conrad stands over the grill, trying to focus on not overcooking the fish and vegetables. He can hear the girls’ voices, Belly had followed Taylor outside and they were both setting up the table— Taylor telling some story about her mom’s salon. Every once in a while, he catches Belly’s laugh— softer, warm. It hits him in the gut every time.

By the time they sit down to eat, the sky’s a watercolor wash of orange and lavender. The table’s crowded with food — grilled halibut, roasted vegetables, the cake Laurel baked, and the bottle of wine Laurel’s been saving since just after Belly was born.

“This,” Laurel says as she sets the bottle down in front of her daughter, “is from the year you were born. Your dad and I bought it right after you were born — said we’d open it when you turned twenty-one.”

Belly stares at the label, eyes wide, “Thanks, mom,” and then she’s up and hugging her mom so tight, Conrad feels something twist in his chest. Laurel smiles up at her like she’s still twelve and just won her first swim medal. 

Laurel pours them each a glass of the wine and they all dig in. The table is full of comfortable conversation and happy eating sounds.

When they’ve all picked their plates mostly clean and pushed them to the side, Steven goes next with his present, sliding a small white box across the table. “Happy birthday, Belly. I figured this might help you not lose your keys for once.”

She opens it, laughs. “AirTags? You’re such a jerk.”

“Practical and thoughtful jerk,” he says, grinning.

Taylor’s next, her grin mischievous as she pushes a neatly wrapped gift across the table. “Mine’s way better.”

Belly unwraps it and bursts out laughing — it’s a short, silky red dress. It has a high neck but a very low back. “Tay!”

“What? You’re twenty-one now. It’s time for your main character era.”

Even Laurel laughs, shaking her head. “That might be a little short, don’t you think?”

Taylor winks. “That’s kind of the point.”

Belly’s cheeks are pink when she looks at Conrad, who’s very deliberately focused on his plate, pretending to be deeply interested in a stray bit of roasted zucchini.

Dinner’s loud and warm, full of teasing and laughter that drifts out into the humid evening air. Laurel tells a story about Belly’s first birthday — how she smeared frosting all over the floor. Steven recounts how the boys had crashed Belly’s first date with Cam Cameron. This leads to both Conrad and Belly blushing, both of them remembering how it had been his idea to do so. 

It’s all too much and not enough at the same time. He wants to freeze it — the clinking glasses, the way her hair falls over her shoulder when she laughs, the reflection of candlelight in her eyes.

They’ve just finished cutting the cake when Taylor leans back in her chair, a sly smile curving her lips. “Okay, so. You’re officially twenty-one, which means we are definitely hitting a bar after this, right?”

Belly blinks, startled. “A bar?”

“Obviously. There’s that cute little tiki bar down the beach— The Fat Pelican I think it’s called.”

No one notices that Laurel chuckles, but feels a tug in her chest, head filled with memories of Susannah the last time they had gone to that bar. 

Steven groans. “Do I have to come?”

Taylor smirks. “Only if you promise not to embarrass us.”

Laurel laughs softly. “I think I’ll stay here and clean up, thank you very much. You all can go make fools of yourselves.”

Belly hesitates, glancing at Conrad. “I don’t know…”

He shrugs, forcing a small smile. “It’s your birthday, Belly. You should go and have fun”

Taylor leans across the table. “You should come too, Conrad.”

He shakes his head quickly. “I’ll maybe tag along as a designated sober friend but that’s it.”

Belly watches him, studying his face for a long moment. “Maybe.” she says quietly, turning her attention back to Taylor. 

Laurel clears her throat, smiling between them. “All right, kids. Finish your cake before you make any more plans.”

They chat for a while longer between bites of cake. But all he can think about is how badly he wants her birthday to end the same way it started — quietly, with just the two of them, before the world gets loud again.

Belly

By the time the sun slips below the horizon, the house smells like lemon cake and salt air. Taylor’s sitting cross-legged on Belly’s bed, eyes gleaming as she waves the red dress at her like a flag.

“Come on, Cinderbelly. Birthday rules. You have to wear it.”

Belly rolls her eyes but takes it anyway. The fabric’s lighter than she expected, soft between her fingers. “I’ll try it on but no promises.”

“You’re going to look hot.” Taylor says, grinning. “It’ll be perfect for Paris, too. All those hot Parisian men will be at your feet.”

Belly laughs. She was now very excited about studying in Paris. She had felt like she had to dampen her enthusiasm around Jeremiah after he told her he wouldn’t be graduating. Now she feels like she will be able to go in August without anything holding her back. 

A few minutes later, Belly’s standing in front of the mirror, half-expecting to feel ridiculous. But she doesn’t. The dress fits perfectly, the color making her skin look sun-warmed and her eyes brighter. Taylor insists on doing her makeup — just enough shimmer, just enough gloss.

When they walk downstairs, Steven groans, “Whoa. Don’t let Mom see you leave like that.”

“Shut up,” she says, but she’s laughing. She catches Conrad’s eye then. He’s still wearing his same outfit from earlier. He stares at her, and she can’t help but notice as his eyes trail down her body. 

“You look beautiful.” He says, softly. 

Belly flushes and looks down shyly. “Thank you.” 

Laurel shakes her head, giving them a fond but knowing look. “Have fun. Be careful. And please—drink water.”

*

Outside, the air hums with summer warmth. The four of them — her, Taylor, Steven, and Conrad — walk down the quiet stretch of road toward the beach. The Fat Pelican sits right on the sand, strings of yellow lights glowing against the night sky, music drifting out through the open doors.

Inside, it’s packed but happy — locals, tourists, college kids. The floor’s sticky, the drinks are cheap, and somehow it feels perfect.

Taylor’s the first on the dance floor, dragging Belly with her. They laugh until their sides hurt, swaying to whatever song’s playing, bumping into strangers and not caring at all. Steven joins for a while before retreating to the bar, pretending to be unimpressed but clearly enjoying himself. Conrad lingers nearby, nursing a beer, eyes soft but watchful.

At some point, Belly’s tipsy enough that everything feels slow and golden. The world blurs at the edges — Taylor’s laughter, the shimmer of lights, some Ariana Grande song playing. 

But when she closes her eyes, Jeremiah’s voice sneaks in. “Picture our life together.”

She tries. She really does. But all she sees is Conrad — the curve of his smile that morning, the way he’d looked at her when she’d hugged him, that quiet steadiness she’s always found herself reaching for. Her mind flashes with memories from childhood, him teaching her to ride a bike, him buying her the biggest unicorn from the glass store, him teaching her how to dance in the summer house living room.  Every version of the future she tries to picture ends up with him somewhere in it. Maybe it was okay if past, present, and future her all loved Conrad Fisher.

She hadn’t thought of a lot of these memories in a very long time, she hadn’t let herself. She realizes, in a way, she had forced herself to forget this Conrad. The steady, kind, and caring version that always seemed to be there for her. When someone hurts you deeply, it’s very easy to forget all the lovely, wonderful things that came before the pain. She realized she sort of created this cruel, distant version of him that maybe never truly existed. 

Maybe they really were just two young kids who had become collateral damage to very adult, and very ugly grief. 

When she opens her eyes again, the living version of him is there, watching her from the bar, a beer in his hand. Something in her chest tightens. Taylor has drifted away from her and is dancing with some college boy. She finds herself closing the distance between them. 

“Hey.” 

He smiles and chuckles softly, “You looked like you were having fun out there.” 

“I am having fun, it’s been a very nice birthday.” She then turns to the bartender and orders herself another drink, feeling very grown up about being able to do so. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, both sipping their drinks, leaning against the bar. The music drifts into something slower, older, very different from the pulsing beat of the last song. 

“Belly, would you dance with me?” He asks, holding out his hand to her. 

Belly’s heart skips and she hesitates, looking up at him. He’s smiling softly at her. She slides her hand into his and he leads her back to the dance floor. 

They move in sync for a few moments, close but not pressed against each other. His hand is in hers, her other hand is resting on his shoulder and his is gently on her waist. 

They sway gently from side to side, eyes locked on each other, and for a moment, it’s just them. 

“Do you remember the last time we danced?” She asks softly, eyes searching his, sort of regretting it right after she says it. 

He looks away from her for a moment, staring into the distance like he’s picturing it, before nodding slowly. “Prom….not my finest moment.” 

“I was such a brat about it. I had envisioned this perfect prom movie…You know, we’d dance for hours then go back to the hotel and….” Her voices trails off. 

“Make love?” He asks softly, and so sweetly. 

“Yes, Conrad, have sex.” She says, feeling way too vulnerable and like she desperately needs the upperhand. “Instead…”

“Instead, I left you in the rain, and ran off like a little bitch.” There’s an edge to his voice, but she can tell it’s not directed at her. “A real prom to remember.” 

She laughs. “It was pretty unforgettable.” He spins her away from him then, before pulling her back in, her arms wrapping around his neck, both of his hands on her waist now. 

“Almost as unforgettable as you telling me to fuck off at my mom’s funeral.” he says with mirth. 

“I said go to hell, not fuck off. “ She says in the same tone. 

“That makes it a lot better.” They are both chuckling now, staring into each other's eyes. While teasing, and done in their way, it feels like a conversation they needed to have for a long time. To both recognize and own up to some of the hurt they had caused each other. 

They go quiet now, still swaying to the music. Belly gently rests her head on Conrad’s shoulder. One of his hands moves to her back, touching bare skin where the red dress cuts low, trailing his fingers up her spine. She shivers. “That all feels like a million years ago.” Her way of saying she thinks that maybe they can get past it. 

Her breath hitches when he leans in just slightly, enough for her to feel the warmth of his lips near her ear. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he murmurs, voice husky. Her fingers brush against the back of his neck but she doesn’t say anything. 

The last notes of the song faded into the bar’s chatter, leaving a heavy, almost unbearable silence between them. Belly blinks, heart still hammering from his last words, and steps back, breaking the contact.

Conrad runs a hand through his hair, taking a steadying breath. “Come on,” he says softly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Walk with me on the beach.”

She hesitates, looking around for Taylor and Steven. She finds them very close to each other in the corner of the bar, maybe they would figure themselves out too, she thinks.  She nods, letting him guide her out into the warm night air. She slips off her heels, the sand is cool beneath their feet. The ocean stretching out endlessly in front of them, the sound of the waves loud enough to drown out everything else.

They walk silently for a while down the shore. The moon is big and bright, casting a silver glow over everything. She can tell he has tensed up and it’s causing anxiety to rise in her chest, feeling mostly sober and sharper in the cool, night air. 

“Belly, I have to tell you something. “ Voice shaking a bit. He had stopped walking and had turned to face her. 

She swallows, heart in her throat. Something in his voice scaring her. “What?” 

“I know about Jere cheating on you in Cabo.” It was not what she had expected him to say, honestly maybe the last thing she had expected. “I accidentally overheard you guys at the hospital.” His jaw is tight and his voice sounds angry now. 

She feels her own wave of anger and surprise wash over her. She stands there stunned for a few moments. “Why wouldn’t you tell me you knew?” 

“I don’t know, I was just waiting for the right moment. I was hoping you would say something.” She can feel tears forming in her eyes. Had this all just been pity? Him feeling sorry for her or guilty about what his brother had done. 

“Well, it’s not like it’s really any of your business. It’s not like you’ve been around.” She says, a chill seeping into her voice. She’s started walking again and he’s trailing behind her. 

“None of my business? That shithead is my brother and your my….You’re not the kind of girl who would put up with something like that.”

She looks back at him. “Who said I was putting up with it? I don’t need your pity, and I put up with a lot worse from you.” She turns away again, walking faster now. 

He winces, the words hitting him. “I didn’t so much as look at another girl while we were together. I never wanted anyone else, I still……”

She interrupts him sharply, whirling around and stepping towards him, “You hurt me worse. You just left. You walked away like none of it had ever mattered. Like I didn’t matter.” Voice loud, and sharp. “At least Jere never did that to me. He loves me no matter what, he doesn’t just leave when things get hard.” 

He pauses for a moment, looking like she had slapped him. “Belly, you’re right, I’m sorry.” His voice is low, eyes pained. “I fucked up four years ago. And worst of all, I lied to you, at that motel. I fucked up so many times but I regret that one the most. Telling you I didn’t want you. Of course I wanted you, I think maybe I always will. But, I was angry and hurting and the last thing I wanted to do was drown you with me in my grief. I knew I wasn’t the kind of man you deserved. Then I saw you and Jere together, happy, and so I tried to let you go.” He’s crying now too, voice cracking. She just stands and stares at him, mouth hanging open. 

Belly’s chest tightens. Her hands curl into fists at her sides. “Why… why tell me now? Why bring it up?”

“Because I can’t keep pretending,” he admits, stepping closer. “I left and didn’t come back because I knew I had ruined my chances and I couldn’t bear being near you. Jere’s my brother, and I love him, but seeing you two together made me hate him. Then I find out about what he did and then being near you again, talking to you the way we used to, you looking at me the way you used to. I knew I couldn’t ruin it like I had last time, I don’t want to pretend anymore, if there is any chance of being able to be with you again, I refuse to run away from it.” Shoulders shaking, pleading. 

Belly shakes her head, tears glinting in her eyes. “You don’t get to say that now. You can’t just… say that and expect it to fix everything.”

“I’m not trying to fix it,” he says quietly. “I just need you to know the truth.”

Conrad

For a long moment, neither of them speak. The only sound is the rush of the waves, the wind pulling at her hair, the pounding of his heart.

Then Belly took a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what to do with that, Conrad.”

He nods, eyes softening. “You don’t have to do anything.”

But he doesn’t move away. And she doesn’t either. They just stand there — close enough to feel the heat radiating between them, far enough that neither dare to bridge the space.

The tension is unbearable. 

Conrad wants to reach out, to touch her, to say don’t go back to him, please — but the look in her eyes tells him he’s already said too much.

Finally, she turns away, her voice barely audible. “I can’t do this tonight.”

He lets her go, watching as she walks up the beach toward the house, her figure swallowed by the shadows.

Conrad stands there for a long time after she is gone, the sound of the ocean crashing in his ears, the taste of regret sharp in his mouth.

He’d told her the truth. But somehow, it doesn’t  feel like enough.

*

Conrad stays on the beach long after Belly leaves. The moon glinting off of the water, the tide getting closer to his shoes. He doesn’t move. His hands are buried in his pockets, his pulse still racing.

He finally said it. The thing he’s been holding in his chest for four years — that he lied, that he never stopped loving her.

And it doesn’t fix a damn thing.

When he finally makes it back to the house, most of the lights are off.  He assumes Taylor and Steven are still back at the bar. Belly’s window upstairs is dark, and for a second, he thinks about knocking — but what would he even say? Sorry I ruined your birthday? Sorry I told you the truth too late?

He fills a glass of water and steps outside instead. The air is warm and sticky with salt. The pool glows under the porch light, that soft blue shimmer that always makes him think of summer — the kind of summer that used to mean something.

He sinks into a lounge chair, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the rippling water. The image of her face won’t leave him — the way she looked at him when he told her he lied, a mix of shock and pain and something else he can’t name. He thought maybe the truth would help. Instead, it just feels like he’s ripped something open again. A wound that had started to scab over but was now open and oozing again. 

The door creaks behind him, and Laurel steps out. She’s barefoot, holding a glass of wine, wearing one of those soft cardigans she’s always loved.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asks, her voice low and familiar.

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

She sits down in the chair beside him, glancing over. “You’ve got that look,” she says after a beat. “Like you’re trying to hold up the whole weight of the world on your shoulders”

Conrad lets out a dry laugh, staring into his glass. “Yeah, well. Some things don’t change.”

Laurel smiles faintly, though her eyes are soft with concern. “Did something happen with Belly?”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore,” he admits quietly. “Sometimes I think there is a chance, and then something happens, and she reminds me that I’m the one who broke it.”

Laurel looks out at the pool for a long moment before she says, “You didn’t break it alone, Conrad. You were a kid carrying too much. You both were.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “You still talk to me like I’m one of your kids.”

“That’s because you are,” she says simply. “You always will be.”

That hits him harder than he expects. He blinks, looking away. “I told her the truth tonight,” he says finally. 

Laurel’s eyes soften even more. “Good. You owed her that.”

He nods, jaw tight. “Didn’t change anything though. I thought maybe it would.”

“Maybe not right now,” she says. “But it will. The truth always matters — even when it hurts.”

He stares into the water, quiet for a long time. 

Laurel sighs,“Belly’s still figuring out who she is. And I think… part of that is figuring out what she still feels for you.”

He looks up at her, “You really think there’s still a chance?”

Laurel studies him for a moment, then smiles — soft and sad. “If I’ve learned anything about you two, it’s that you always find your way back to each other. Even when you shouldn’t.”

He gives a half-smile. “That sounds like a warning.”

“Maybe it is,” she says, standing and finishing her wine. She rests a hand on his shoulder as she passes. “But it’s also the truth.”

Conrad stays there long after she goes inside. The night hums with crickets and the faint crash of waves down the beach. The pool lights flicker across the water, painting his skin in blue.

He can still feel the way Belly looked at him, hear her voice breaking on the words why are you telling me this now?

He doesn’t have an answer.
All he knows is that he’s still in love with her. He probably always will be.

Chapter Text

Conrad

The morning air is warm and humid against his skin, the sky slightly overcast, when Conrad jogs up the driveway, his shirt damp with sweat, headphones hanging loose around his neck. The world is quiet—only the distant crash of the waves.

He slows to a walk near the porch, catching his breath. His chest still feels tight—not from the run, but from everything that happened last night. Every word he said to Belly, every look she gave him, replays on a loop.

He told her the truth.
He pretty much told her he’d want her forever.

He leans against the porch railing, stretching his calf, and runs a hand through his hair, still half-drenched from the humidity. He’s just about to head inside when Taylor comes up the path. 

She stands there, arms crossed, eyes sharp. She’s in athletic clothes like she also just got back from her own walk or run. Her expression is enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Hey.”

She doesn’t say it back. She just looks at him, like she’s deciding whether to punch him or not.
Then: “I need to talk to you.”

Conrad freezes. “About what?”

“What did you say to Belly last night?” she says, icily. 

“What did she tell you I said?”

“Nothing” Taylor says, stepping closer. “But when I got home she was upset, she cried herself to sleep. And I’d be willing to bet money that it’s something to do with you. Again. Nice one, Conrad.”

He swallows, throat dry. “It’s not really any of your business. We just talked. Are we done here?” He starts moving, ready to slide past her into the house. 

“Of course it’s my business. Belly is my oldest friend in the world.” Taylor scoffs, folding her arms tighter. “Do you have any idea how badly you’ve hurt her, over and over again? You treat her like a toy you just pick up and play with whenever you feel like it. You think she’ll just come running back to you because you just suddenly remembered she exists?”

Conrad rubs the back of his neck, looking at Taylor earnestly. “No, it’s not like I just suddenly remembered she exists, Taylor, it’s that I never forgot. Ever. Not for a second. And she can try and push it down all she wants, but I don’t think she forgot either. I’m not trying to hurt her, I just wanted her, needed her to know the truth.” 

Taylor narrows her eyes. “About what?”

He hesitates. There’s no point lying to Taylor. “About how things ended. About how I lied to her before I left. About how I told her I didn’t want her, when that couldn’t have been further from the truth.”

Taylor’s expression falters for a moment—just a flicker of surprise—before the fire returns. “So you tell her now? On her birthday? After everything she’s been through this summer?”

“I know it was terrible timing,” Conrad admits. “But I couldn’t keep pretending that none of it happened. She deserves to know the truth, even if she hates me for it.”

Taylor stares at him for a long time, her jaw tight. “Do you love her?”

The words hang there, sharp and quiet.

Conrad’s breath catches. He doesn’t even try to dodge it this time. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I do.”

Taylor’s eyes flash with something that isn’t quite anger anymore—maybe pity, maybe understanding. “You know she’s finally starting to figure herself out, right? She’s been hurt so much by you, by Jeremiah, by all of it. She doesn’t need another Fisher wrecking her.”

“I don’t want to wreck her,” he says, almost pleading now. “I just want to be better for her. If she never wants me again, I’ll live with that. But I needed her to know I never stopped caring.”

Taylor exhales, looking up towards the sky. “You have the worst timing, you know that? You wait until she’s starting to stand on her own two feet to tell her this.”

“I know.”

“She was crying, Conrad. You should’ve seen her. I’ve never seen her look so confused.”

He nods, guilt pressing hard against his ribs. “I know,” he whispers.

For a moment, neither of them speak. The only sound is the soft rustle of the breeze.

Finally, Taylor sighs, her tone softening just a fraction. “She told me she thinks a part of her will always love you. Just… don’t fuck up my friends life. If you’re going to love her, then actually be the person she needs.”

Conrad's eyes widen as he looks up at her. “She said that?”

Taylor studies him for a second, then nods.  “I don’t know if she’ll give you another chance, and I don’t even know if you deserve one. But, if she does, you better not ruin it, or I will beat the shit out of you.”

A ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth. “I won’t. And fair enough.”

Taylor rolls her eyes but there’s the smallest hint of a smile too. “I’m serious, Fisher. Now go shower before you stink up the house.”

He laughs quietly as she walks past him and into the house. 

Conrad stands there for another minute, staring towards the gray sky. He knows he hurt her and that he’s fucked up so many times. 

But for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel like running from it.

He turns toward the house, heart heavy but sure.

He’s done lying.

*

The house feels strangely still when Conrad finally steps inside. The air smells faintly like coffee  and somewhere upstairs he can hear the shower running.

He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, pressing it against the back of his neck. He should feel better after the run, after getting it off his chest with Taylor, but his thoughts are still a tangled mess — all of them circling Belly.

And some about Jeremiah, who he probably should call.  He realizes he should feel more guilty about telling his — until recently — brother’s girlfriend that he basically will love her forever. He’s done so many things to try to keep the promise he made to his mom to protect Jeremiah, but now he just feels exhausted about it. It was something he and Ryan had talked about and he remembers him saying ‘you can’t sacrifice yourself for everyone else.’ And he sort of gets it now, because he has been sacrificing part of himself for years in hopes at the very least she and his brother could be happy.

Look what good that did.

Also, if he really dwells on it, he is angry. 

Anger is not emotion he’s allowed himself to feel when it comes to his brother, but hearing about the cheating had opened the flood gates. He just couldn’t grasp the idea of cheating on Belly. Hell, single him could barely manage to be with anyone else due to the mere memory of her. He couldn’t understand how Jeremiah had done it if he truly loved her and it gave him the urge to punch his brother in the face. 

Hence, why he had been avoiding him. 

He’s standing by the sink when he hears footsteps on the stairs. Light, familiar, pulling him from the rapid thoughts in his head. 

He turns.

Belly comes down wearing a soft blue sundress, her hair still damp from a shower, curling around her shoulders. There’s a hesitation in her step when she sees him — the kind that tells him she wasn’t expecting to run into him so soon.

“Morning,” he says quietly.

“Hey.” Her voice is small, careful. She moves to the counter, avoiding his eyes as she digs in the cabinet for a mug.

He opens his mouth — he wants to say I’m sorry again, or I didn’t mean to ruin your night, or maybe even you looked beautiful dancing with me — but none of it feels right. None of it feels like something she’d want to hear right now.

Instead, he just nods toward the coffeemaker. “There’s a fresh pot.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, still not looking at him.

He nods again, even though she can’t see it, and grabs his water bottle from the counter. For a moment, they both stand there in silence — the hum of the fridge filling the space where words used to be easy between them.

“Belly…” He starts. 

Then Laurel’s voice calls from upstairs. “Belly? You ready to go soon?”

“Yeah!” Belly answers, setting her mug down. “As soon as Taylor’s ready.” 

Belly reaches for her bag on the table, and for a second her hand brushes the edge of the counter near his. The contact is so light he almost thinks he imagined it — but he feels it, electric and small.

Their eyes meet then. Finally.

Her eyes are still a little red and it sends a sharp pain through his chest. Her expression softens for a heartbeat — confusion, exhaustion, and something else flickering behind it. He doesn’t know if it’s forgiveness or just the ghost of what used to be between them.

“I’ll see you later,” she says.

“Yeah,” he replies quietly. “Have fun.”

She nods once, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and moves to walk back upstairs. 

He stands in the kitchen for a few more moments before he heads upstairs himself to shower. The hallway is empty when he slips into the bathroom, the door to Belly’s room closed. When he gets out the house is quiet and he figures he’s alone for the day. 

Belly

The day drifts by in soft colors — sunlight and ocean air, laughter and the low hum of summer.

By the time they reach town, the awkwardness of the morning has begun to fade into the background. Laurel insists they start with brunch at a café near the water, one with striped umbrellas and chipped wooden tables that smell faintly of salt and lemon. The three of them — Laurel, Belly, and Taylor — sit outside for nearly two hours, ordering iced coffees, mimosas, and picking at each other's entrees, talking about everything and nothing.

Taylor is in full gossip mode, recounting the night before but downplaying her hanging out with Steven. Belly laughs, shaking her head, but secretly wonders if maybe the two of them are actually on the verge of something real this time.

Laurel listens, smiling in that quiet, motherly way that makes Belly’s chest ache a little. She seems lighter here — like Cousins breathes something into her too, but also a glint of sadness when she sees something that reminds her of Susannah. They stop by the bookstore next and Laurel buys them each a new book. 

They wander through the little shops. Boutique clothing, the antique store, and belly insists they stop in at the candy shop announcing that she has definitely earned a treat. 

For a while, Belly almost forgets about the night before — the tension, the argument, the way Conrad’s voice had cracked when he said he’d lied. Almost.

But every now and then, something pulls her back: the sound of a boy laughing behind her, a car that’s the same color as his, the memory of the look on his face under the moonlight.

By the time they drive back to the house, it’s late afternoon. The air smells like sunscreen and the sea. Steven is awake now, having slept most of the day away, and the three of them are packing up the car. They plan to drop Steven off at the train station before Taylor and her mom head back to Philly. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with us, Bean?” Her mother asks, having picked up on that something was going on but had not pressed Belly for details. 

Taylor jumps in. “Or are you sure you don’t want me to stay, there’s a lot going on with Lucinda but I’m sure I could…”

Belly cuts her off. “No, It’s okay. I’m okay, you guys. I want to stay for a little bit longer but I will see you both soon, promise.” Her mom pulls her into a hug, tells her she loves her, and then heads to the car where Steven is already waiting in the passenger seat. 

“Text me tonight,” Taylor says, pulling her into a hug.  “And maybe don’t overthink everything for once in your life, okay?”

Belly laughs softly. “No promises.”

Taylor kisses her cheek and jogs down the steps to where Laurel and Steven are waiting. Belly waves until they turn out of sight, the sound of tires crunching on gravel fading into quiet.

For the first time all day, the house is still again.

She goes upstairs, changes into her swimsuit (a deep purple bikini that crosses at the front) and a baggy t-shirt with plans to swim in a bit, then sits on her bed. The late light filters through the curtains, warm and gold. She scrolls on her phone for a while, then tries to read one of the books Laurel bought, but her mind keeps drifting — to the fight, to what he said, to how his eyes looked when he said he never stopped caring.

There’s a soft knock at the door. Well, this was probably inevitable. 

Her heart jumps before she can stop it.

“Yeah?” she calls, trying to sound casual.

The door opens a few inches. Conrad stands there, he’s wearing a denim button down with the hint of a gray undershirt peeking through paired with light colored shorts. “Hey. Can we talk?”

For a second, Belly forgets how to breathe. The room feels suddenly smaller — filled with everything they haven’t said and everything they still might.

She nods, quiet. “Yeah. Okay.”

Conrad

He doesn’t even know what he’s going to say until he’s standing in front of her door.

He can still hear Taylor’s voice from earlier, sharp and accusing — she cried herself to sleep, Conrad. The words have been replaying in his head on a loop ever since his run that morning. He wants to fix it, wants to show her, prove to her that he’s not running away or taking anything back this time. 

When she tells him to come in, her voice sounds smaller than usual. He pushes the door open slowly. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, wearing a baggy t-shirt and what from this angle appears to be nothing else. Great, her bare thighs were the last thing he needed to be thinking about right now. He needed all his wits about him for this conversation. 

For a moment, he can’t move. She looks up, eyes soft and unsure.

“Hey,” he says, voice low.
“Hey,” she echoes.

There’s a long pause. The kind that used to feel comfortable between them but now just feels loaded.

He starts to speak. “About last night—”
She cuts in gently. “We could just pretend…”
“No,” he says, meeting her eyes. “I said things wrong. I shouldn’t have done it that way— I went about it the wrong way. I just… I hate thinking about you hurting.”

Something flickers in her face — surprise, maybe, or confusion. She looks down at her hands. “You can’t fix everything all the time.”

He wants to argue, to tell her he knows that, but it doesn’t change how it feels. Instead, he glances around the room, trying to gather himself — and that’s when he sees it.

Junior Mint.

The little polar bear is half-buried in the corner of her open closet, just visible behind a tote bag on the top shelf. His throat tightens immediately. He crosses the room slowly, reaching to pick it up.

“Do you remember the day I gave you this?” he says quietly, thumb brushing the soft fabric.

Belly looks startled for a moment, then embarrassed. “Yeah, I— of course I do.”

He smiles faintly. “I probably spent about $40 trying to win him for you…then you disappeared.” He turns to look at her questioningly. 

He sees her cheeks turn pink. “Well, I didn’t want to interrupt your flirting with the girl working the booth.” she says sardonically

He doesn’t say anything for a beat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Belly sighs in exasperation. “The girl running the booth, I could tell you liked her. You complimented her shorts. So I left so you guys could flirt in peace without annoying, little, old me interrupting."

He starts laughing, maybe harder than he has in a long while. 

He can tell it’s making her livid. Her mouth curls into a frown and her brows knit together. “Are you laughing at me?”

He takes a deep breath, trying to reign himself back in and shakes his head. “No, not at you. At how ridiculous your perception of things is.” A chuckle escaping him before he continues and he looks her dead in the eyes. “I asked you to go to the boardwalk with me because I liked you, Belly. I wanted to win the prize to make you happy. I didn’t even talk to that girl after you left and I was so sad when you didn’t come back.” 

Her eyes narrow. “You’re lying.” 

“Scouts honor,” he says, raising the hand not holding the stuffed polar bear. He’s not sure how the conversation took this turn but he thinks he needs to bring it back into its original intention.

She’s gotten off the bed and is standing in front of him, arm outstretched. “Can I have my bear back please.”

He turns the bear over in his hands, ready to set it back down — and that’s when he feels it. A small, cool weight under the red scarf. When he presses the fabric away gently, he catches a glimpse of silver, smooth metal under his fingers. 

The infinity necklace, placed around the polar bear's neck. 

No matter what, we’ll still be infinite. 

For a second, the world goes quiet.

He stares down at it — the delicate chain, the tiny symbol he picked out for her all those summers ago — and it feels like something in his chest cracks open. She didn’t throw it away. Maybe, just like him, she remembered infinity too. 

When he finally looks up, Belly is frozen, her eyes wide. “Conrad—”
“You still have it,” he says softly.

Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. She looks torn — embarrassed, defensive, and something else entirely. “I couldn’t— it didn’t feel right to throw it away. Even when everything fell apart. But it hurt to look at it so I left it here.”

He nods slowly, taking the necklace carefully off the bear before setting junior mint on the bed, the necklace glinting in his hand. For years, he’d told himself that she was gone — that she’d moved on, that he’d lost her completely. But right now, standing in her room, holding proof that she’d held on to something of him, however small — it feels like hope.

He meets her gaze, and the words are out before he can stop them.

“I lied to you that night at the motel.”

She blinks. “You already told me that.”

“I know,” he says, taking a step closer. “But I didn’t tell you everything. I didn’t want to walk away. I just thought I was doing the right thing — for you, for Jeremiah, for everyone. I thought maybe if I left, you’d have an easier life.” He swallows, shaking his head. “But watching you these past few weeks… I realized how wrong I was. I’ve been wrong for a long time.”

She doesn’t say anything, just watches him, the air between them heavy and still.

He takes another step forward, until he’s standing right in front of her. “Belly,” he says, voice rough now, “I still love you.”

Her breath catches audibly.

“I don’t expect you to say it back,” he adds quickly. “And I know I don’t deserve it — not after the way I hurt you. But I can’t pretend anymore. I don’t want to.” He hesitates, then holds out the necklace. “Just… let me try. No strings, no pressure. Let me show you that I can be what you need. Let me prove it.”

For a moment, she doesn’t move. Her eyes flick from his face to the necklace, then back. There’s a shimmer of something there — disbelief, fear, maybe a flicker of something he didn’t dare to even dream he would see again. 

“Conrad…” she whispers, and the way she says his name feels like both a warning and a memory.

He doesn’t push. He just stands there, his hand still open, the necklace glinting between his fingers, his heart pounding loud enough he swears she must hear it.

And for the first time in years, he lets himself believe that maybe — just maybe — there’s still a chance.

Belly

For a second, she thinks she must have misheard him.

The words hang in the air between them, impossible and heavy. I still love you.
They echo in her head like a heartbeat, pounding, refusing to fade.

Her throat feels dry. She stares at him — at the way he’s standing there, the chain glinting in his hand, his expression open and terrified in a way she’s never seen before. It’s like every wall he’s ever had is gone.

She wants to say something, but her thoughts are moving too fast to catch.
He still loves me.
He lied.
He left.
He’s here.

Her chest aches with everything she’s been holding back — the confusion, the anger, the longing that never really went away.

“Why are you saying this now?” she finally asks, her voice small but steady.

Conrad’s eyes soften. “Because I can’t hide it anymore.”

That shouldn’t make her heart twist the way it does, but it does. She takes a step back, trying to breathe, but it feels like there’s no air left in the room.

“You can’t just say that,” she whispers. “You don’t get to drop that on me after everything. You broke me, Conrad. You left, and you made me believe you didn’t want me. And I tried so hard to move on. I tried to be happy.”

He nods, swallowing hard. “I know. And I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, but it was just cowardice. I couldn’t handle what I felt, and I thought pushing you away would make it easier. It didn’t. It never did.”

Her pulse is everywhere now — in her fingertips, in her throat. He’s too close, the smell of him is dizzying, the sound of his voice sounding too sincere, too real.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” she says, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

He steps closer, close enough that she can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the small beauty mark above his lip. His voice drops low. “Then don’t trust me yet. Just let me try.”

Her breath catches. She wants to tell him no, to tell him that it’s too late, that she’s finally learning how to breathe without him — but her body betrays her. Her fingers tremble, her skin buzzes, and there’s this pull, the same one that’s been there since all those years ago. 

“Conrad…” she says, but it comes out more like a plea than a warning.

He takes another step, close enough now that she can feel his warmth. “What?” he asks quietly.

Her heart is hammering. The air feels heavy and charged, the kind of stillness that comes before everything changes. His eyes flicker down to her lips, then back up to her eyes, like he’s asking for permission. 

“I need time,” she finally says. Her voice is quiet but steady. “I can’t make promises right now, Conrad. Not after everything.”

He nods once, jaw tightening the way it does when he’s trying not to say too much. “Okay,” he says simply. “Take all the time you need.” He lingers for another moment before he gently sets the necklace on the bed and turns to leave, closing the door behind him. 

She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding and flops down onto the bed, burying her face in her pillow. 

*

At some point her stomach growls and she realizes she can’t hide in her room forever. She hasn’t eaten anything but candy since her brunch with her mom and Taylor, and based on the twilight creeping through her window, she has been lost in thought for quite some time. She drags herself upright and towards the door, opening it, and sticking her head out. 

His door is shut and she doesn’t hear any sounds. She quietly creeps down the stairs to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers. She picks at her plate, not  really eating much, her stomach is in knots. 

Maybe she should pack up her stuff and get on the first bus out of here, pretend this last month hadn’t happened. Maybe he would go back to California and they would go back to not existing in each other’s lives. 

However, the other part of her is screaming at her to run upstairs, knock on his door, and ask him to fuck her until she can’t remember the hurt, Jeremiah, or the the distance of the last four years. 

This train of thought and accompanying visuals leads to heat pooling in her stomach. She needs to cool off before she does something stupid.

She grabs a towel from the cabinet in the laundry room before heading outside, luckily still wearing her swimsuit from earlier. The sun has gone down outside and the sky is slowly turning from a light blue to dark. The yard is still illuminated somewhat by the glowing porch light, the blue hues of the pool lights, and the silver moon in the sky. 

She strips off her shirt, setting it with the towel on a nearby lounge chair, and dives into the pool. She pushes herself, similar to the way she did her first night here, only coming up for air before turning to do another lap. Desperately hoping the movement and the water will wash away the racing thoughts and the anxiety that’s living in her chest. 

However, one can only try to swim away from their problems for so long before lungs and limbs beg for a rest. She comes up for an actual break, clinging to the side, chest heaving. She brushes the water from her face, first looking up to the sky and then at her surroundings. 

He’s there, maybe about ten feet from her, because of course he is. 

Neither of them says anything. They just stare at each other for probably way too long. Shadows dance across his face and his eyes look so dark. She feels frozen and like her mind has been wiped entirely blank, unable to form words. He’s wearing swim trunks and a white t-shirt. He’s pushed his hair out of his face and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. The water is warm but there is a slight breeze and she’ll blame that for the goosebumps that suddenly appear on her body. 

“I know a night swim is typically a solo Belly activity, but could I join you?” He sounds like he’s teasing her but there's an edge of something else? Uncertainty? Nervousness?

She still doesn’t speak, just nods slowly. Which she immediately regrets when he peels his shirt off, tossing it aside, then sliding into the pool.  A shirtless, and soon to be wet Conrad was definitely not going to help with her resolve to put some space between them. 

They sit in silence for a while, her still hanging onto the wall, watching him as he floats lazily on his back. It is not a comfortable silence, it’s thick and humming. 

He runs a hand through his wet hair. “It’s nice out tonight.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “It always is.”

He drifts closer to her, slowly until he’s just a few feet away. Every movement feels deliberate — cautious but inevitable.

After a moment, he says, “You always come out here when you’re upset.”

“You used to, too.” She says, softly. “Although, that last summer it was more to hide and smoke a joint than to swim.” 

Another moment of silence passes between them, both of them thinking about that last summer before everything had changed. 

He’s still staring at the sky instead of her but he’s even closer now, “You know, that was the last summer I did.” 

“The last summer you did what?” She hears herself ask. 

He looks at her then, water glistening in his hair. “I haven’t smoked since that summer.” He’s smirking at her again and she thinks for a moment that a wet, smirking Conrad Fisher could probably ruin her. 

“Oh….why’s that?” Her voice is embarrassingly breathy and she hopes he thinks it’s from her exuberant swimming earlier and not because he has an effect on her. 

He’s within arms reach now, still smirking, but his eyes soften. “Because someone very important to me asked me not to.” He says it in a matter of fact way, like he’s daring her to argue. 

She swallows. “You still remember that?”

“I remember everything,” he says. The words are soft, but they hit like a wave.

She looks away, staring out towards the beach. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because remembering makes it harder to move on.”

He’s quiet for a moment. One of his hands is on the same wall as hers now, the other reaches towards her and she feels like she’s going to explode. His fingers ghost against her cheek. “Is that what you want? To move on?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I don’t know what I want.”

The honesty cracks something open between them. He moves a little closer, and now she can see the way his chest rises and falls, the small tremor of his breath.

“Can I tell you what I want?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

She nods, unable to speak. Heat has spread throughout her entire body, his hand is still moving across her face, cupping her jaw. 

“I want to stop pretending I don’t still think about you. That I don’t still… feel this.”

Her heart stumbles. “Conrad—”

“I know you said you need time,” he says quickly, “and I meant it when I said I’ll give it to you. But I just—” He breaks off, looking at her with this quiet desperation that makes her whole body ache. It goes straight to her core, heat pooling there. If you had told her a few weeks ago that Conrad Fisher would be confessing his love and backing her into a pool wall she would have said you’re psychotic. But yet, here she was. 

The water between them feels thinner now, fragile. She’s so aware of him — the nearness, the heat despite the cool air, the way his voice shakes just a little when he says her name.

“Belly.”

The sound of it — soft, pleading — is all it takes. She drifts closer, so close she can feel the warmth of his breath, see the moonlight reflected in his eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.

She doesn’t.

He exhales shakily, and the world narrows — down to the space between them, to the memories and years pressing silently against this one fragile moment. His hand has moved to cup the back of her neck, gently guiding her closer, barely a breath between them. 

Their lips meet, tentative at first, almost like they’re afraid something will break. Then, it’s sort of like a dam breaks, they both surge forward again. The kiss turns desperate and searing, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He has her fully pressed against the pool wall now, her hands wrapping around his neck, tangling into his wet hair. He groans against her mouth and she’s glad she’s in a pool because otherwise she’s sure she’d be on the verge of soaking through her underwear.  He still has one hand on the wall to steady them, the other has moved down to her waist, holding her up and pulling her against him. 

It’s a kiss full of years of pushed down want and hurt. It is simultaneously sweet, frantic, and painful.  She had forgotten how good it felt to be kissed and held by him. She bites at his bottom lip and he pulls her even tighter against him. She can feel him hard, pressing against her stomach and she moans. 

He pulls away, foreheads still touching, “God, Belly.” 

She surges forward again, wrapping her legs around him, she grinds against him and they both moan into the kiss, her nails digging into his back. He pulls away, slightly, still holding tightly to her waist. 

“Belly, maybe we should….” His voice deep and breathy. 

“Conrad, please.” Belly whines. He groans and pulls her in again. They cling to each other, grinding slowly, the only sounds being their breaths, moans, and the water moving gently around them. 

She seeks friction desperately, tension pooling in her stomach. She feels like she will die if she doesn’t have more. 

“Please Conrad. Please touch me.” She says into his neck. 

He moves the hand that’s been gripping her hip to trail up her stomach, stopping just below her purple bikini top. “Are you sure, baby?” 

She nods furiously, laying open mouthed kisses against his neck. He finally moves her swimsuit aside and takes one of her breasts in his hand, running his thumb over her nipple. She groans, her head falling onto his shoulder and he chuckles. He takes his time running his hands over her, pinching each of her nipples as she moans and asks for more. She starts to get very impatient and reaches down to slide her bikini bottoms off. She put her hand on his, guiding it from her breasts to where she wants him most. 

“So eager. “He teases. She’s about to bite back but then he finally cups her core and all that comes out is “Ohhhhh please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Please, your fingers. Please.” She tries to push up into him. 

“Well, since you said please.” He finally slides a finger into her folds, just feeling her, and he groans. “Fuck, Belly. You’re so wet, I can tell even in the water.” She thinks for a minute she could probably come, just like this, with his voice in her ear. 

She whines again and thinks she might be ready to beg when his finger finally circles her clit, painfully slow. She pushes up into it again. “So beautiful like this, Belly.” She’s sure she looks like a desperate mess but she can’t help it. He circles her clit for a bit longer with his middle finger, before moving to press it into her in one fluid motion. The air leaves her lungs and she’s gasping. She isn’t sure how she managed to not constantly think about how good Conrad’s hands were over the past four years. 

He adds another finger, hooking them inside of her. She cries out. He’s only been touching her for a few minutes and she already feels close. His thumb is circling her clit again and she feels that familiar warmth coiling in her stomach. She knows she won’t make it much longer. “You’re going to make me…” She pants. 

“Yeah? Good, I want you to come. I want you to feel so good. Wish I could have been here to make you feel good every single day.” His fingers speed up and his thumb presses into her clit, pushing her right over the edge. She cries out as her orgasm washes over her. It’s white hot but also comes in waves, his fingers working her through it. He’s telling her how good she is for him and she thinks she hears him say he loves her but she can’t be sure with how fuzzy her head feels. 

He eventually takes his fingers out of her and moves to hold her, their foreheads resting against each other. 

“I still need time,” she says, breathless.

He nods, eyes soft. “I’ll wait.”

And in that quiet, floating between moonlight and pool water, she believes him.

Chapter Text

Belly

The morning after feels too bright.
Sunlight pours through the curtains like it’s trying to force her awake, but Belly just lies there, listening to the house breathe — the creak of floorboards, the hum of the air conditioner, the faint sound of the waves outside. Her skin still remembers the water, the warmth of his hands, the way his voice whispered I love you into her skin as she came. 

She tries to shake the thoughts from her head. 

When she finally gets up, the house feels heavier somehow. She hears Conrad moving around in the kitchen — the clink of a mug, the sound of the faucet. It’s all so normal that it almost breaks her. When she walks in, he turns with that soft, uncertain smile.

“Morning,” he says, voice still rough from sleep.

She can’t look at him for long. “Morning.”

It’s not cold exactly, but it’s distant — and she hates herself for it. He tries to ask if she wants coffee, if she slept okay, but she just nods, mumbles something about needing to shower and quickly escapes back up the stairs. 

That’s how the next week goes.

She keeps busy. She swims, reads by the pool, watches movies on her laptop, anything to fill the spaces where she might think too much. Conrad stays around the house, working on painting the front porch. He’s careful now — always polite, always close enough to be felt but never so close she has to confront what happened.

Sometimes she catches him looking at her — just for a second — and her chest tightens so much she can’t breathe. 

At night, she replays that moment in the pool over and over, hating how much of her wants to go back to it. Hating herself even more when she touches herself to the thought of it, his name on her lips.

By Thursday, she feels like she’s unraveling.

So when Taylor calls that afternoon, Belly nearly cries with relief. She answers on the second ring, sitting on a lounge chair on the back deck with her knees pulled up to her chest.

“Okay,” Taylor says without preamble. “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

Belly exhales, resting her chin on her knees. “It’s just… a lot. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with Conrad,” Taylor says immediately.

Belly laughs softly. “Of course.”

Taylor doesn’t let her dodge it. “Did something happen between you two? And don’t say no, because I can hear it in your voice.”

Belly stares out at the yard, the sun starting to set. “We kissed on Sunday. And maybe a bit more….” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

There’s a beat of silence, then a sharp inhale from Taylor. “Oh my God. You slut!”

“Taylor!”

“No, wait, I mean— okay, that’s a big deal, Belly. What happened after?”

“Nothing. I told him I needed time. And he said he’d wait.”

Taylor hums. “Was it good at least?”

Belly blushes and smiles despite herself. “Of course it was good, too good. But it’s not that simple. I don’t know what I’m doing. Part of me keeps thinking maybe it’s just… nostalgia. Like I want what we used to be, not what we are now.”

“And the other part?”

“The other part still loves him,” Belly says quietly.

Taylor’s voice softens. “You know, I talked to him.”

Belly’s head snaps up. “What?”

“When I saw him after your birthday. I saw him when I went out for my run.  He looked like someone had run him over emotionally, so I said something snarky — and he just blurted it out.”

“Blurted what out?”

“That he’s in love with you. Like, totally, completely, painfully in love with you.”

Belly’s throat goes tight. “He said that?”

“Yeah,” Taylor says gently. “And I kinda believe him, Belly. He wasn’t trying to convince me. He just looked… defeated. Like he’s been holding it in for years.”

Belly’s eyes sting. She presses her hand to her mouth, trying to steady her breathing.

Taylor keeps going. “Look, I know he’s hurt you before. And you have every right to protect yourself. But I think this version of him — the one who’s here now — he seems different, like he really wants to try this time. And believe me, I thought I’d be the last person to ever defend Conrad.”

Belly nods slowly, tears slipping down her cheeks before she can stop them. “I know. That’s what scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because if I let myself believe him… and it doesn’t last this time, I don’t think I’ll survive it.”

Taylor’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Maybe stop worrying about surviving it. Maybe just live it, feel it, see what happens. You’ve both already lost each other once. What’s there to lose now?”

Belly doesn’t answer right away. She looks toward the house, where the afternoon light glows against the windows. Somewhere inside, she knows Conrad’s there — probably reading, probably thinking about her too.

Finally, she says softly, “Yeah. Maybe.”

They talk a little longer — about Steven and Taylor maybe finally becoming something — but Belly’s mind is somewhere else. When she hangs up, she sits there a long time, tracing patterns on her knee. She doesn’t realize it at first but her fingers are moving in the shape of a small infinity sign. 

When she finally stands, she glances through the window — and sees Conrad at the kitchen table, a pen in his hand, brows furrowed as he studies something. 

And for the first time all week, she doesn’t look away.

Conrad

He knew she had been carefully avoiding him for most of the week and he had been letting her for the most part, trying to give her the space she had asked for. He told himself no more mistakes until she gave him the go ahead. Although, if he was being honest with himself he could never call the incident in the pool a mistake. It felt way too much like coming home or like taking a drink after unbearable thirst. 

He had told her once that being with her was a mistake and he thinks it makes the top three of biggest lies he has ever told. 

It’s evening and he’s pretending to study while she sits out on the back deck. He’d made dinner and was hoping to offer it to her when she came inside. She had not been eating much this past week. Belly never ate much when she was upset about something. 

He’s been racking his brain all week trying to figure out what his next move should be. He had had a therapy session a few days ago and spent way too much of it focused on her. He had also talked about Jere with Ryan. They had talked in depth about how trying to hide his feelings hadn’t really helped protect anyone involved. Ryan had encouraged him to try to talk to Jere, and Conrad had typed out multiple messages and almost called him a few times but ended up chickening out everything. He had even called Agnes to ask for advice. She had teased him for a good twenty minutes but then had said ‘let her lead, but make sure she knows you're serious about this.’ 

This had led to him thinking about what he could do to show her things were different, that he was different. He wasn’t running until she sent him away. He wasn’t going to be a little bitch or a martyr again. 

This train of thought led him to think about her prom and all the things he had done wrong. This makes his heart ache with grief. He wishes desperately he could talk to his mom. She would know what to do. 

He wishes he had been a better boyfriend. The kind that remembers his girlfriend's corsage and dances with her at prom without a care in the world. The kind that makes plans and takes her on dates just to see her smile. 

Maybe that’s it. A date. A real one.

Not a party, not a coincidence, not a night that spins out of control. Just the two of them — quiet, honest, no pretending. He wants to take her somewhere she can breathe again, that can feel like a fresh start.  Maybe that café she likes near the dunes, the one with the string lights and the open patio. Or a walk through town at night, ice cream melting too fast to finish. Something small, something good.

He can already picture her reaction — the slight furrow of her brows, the teasing, the way she’ll probably say, “Conrad, we’re not really a date kind of thing.” But maybe that’s exactly why it should be one. Because they never did it right before. They never slowed down enough to just be.

The screen door creaks as she comes inside, and his heart jumps before he can stop it. She’s there in the doorway, hair slightly damp, wearing her swimsuit (a one piece this time) and a towel around her waist. Her eyes are tired but not closed off.

“Hey,” she says, voice soft.

“Hey.”

She hesitates, then steps inside, sitting in the chair across from him. “You’ve been sitting there a while.”

“Yeah. Thinking.”

“About what?”

He looks at her then — really looks. He wonders how he ever thought he could just eventually get over her. “About how I would like to take you on a date.” he says quietly.

Her head tilts, eyes narrowing slightly. “A date?”

He nods, his voice steadier than he feels. “We never did that. You know — get dressed up, go somewhere, talk about nothing and everything. I thought maybe… we could.”

She studies him for a long moment, like she’s trying to decide if he’s serious. Then she smiles — small, careful, but real. “You mean like, normal people?”

“Exactly,” he says, smiling back. “Normal people.”

There’s a beat of silence. He can see her weighing something, the way her fingers toy with her bracelet. Finally, she says, “Let me think about it.”

He nods, even though his chest aches a little. “That’s all I’m asking.”

They sit there as the last of the sun sinks below the water, the air thick with that same quiet electricity that always seems to find them. He wants to reach for her, to tell her that this time he won’t let her go — but instead, he stays still, hands clasped loosely between his knees.

If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that some things can’t be rushed.

So he’ll wait.
But now he has a plan.

Belly 

It’s late morning by the time she finally drags herself out of bed. The house is quiet, sunlight spilling through the curtains in soft, golden lines. A Friday, not like it matters much, the summer days always seemed to just blend together. 

Downstairs, the smell of coffee lingers. She moves automatically, pouring herself a mug, adding too much sugar. When she glances out the kitchen window, she spots Conrad in the yard, board tucked under his arm. He’s shirtless, hair messy, tan lines darker than last week. She stares at the way the muscles in his back move as he starts to walk towards the beach and it suddenly feels ten degrees warmer in the kitchen. 

Then he’s gone — down the path toward the water, toward something that looks effortless for him, the way it always has.

She eats her breakfast slowly, trying not to think about last night. About what he said at the table — a real date. About the way his voice softened at the end, like he wasn’t sure she’d ever say yes.

She hated that she loved the idea of it. Imagining them going on a normal date, no baggage, just focused on getting to know each other better. He would tell her about his plans for residency over cocktails, she would flirt as they shared a dessert. It was a little hard to picture though because, afterall, nothing about their relationship had ever been normal. 

By noon, she’s at the table with her laptop open, pretending to work on grad school prep questions she’s been putting off for weeks. The house hums quietly around her, the occasional sound of waves , the fan ticking faintly.

She was pondering a particularly difficult GRE question when she hears the side door open behind her. She looks back at him, he was still shirtless, water dripping from his hair, and he looked ghostly. Much paler than he had been when she had looked at him through the window this morning. She turns in her chair to face him fully. 

“What’s wrong?” She says, worry creasing her brow. 

“Wipeout…” He says through clenched teeth, “Got cut by my fin.”

“Bad?”

“No, not too bad.” But his voice is tight. 

She watches him as he turns and limps up the side stairs and out of sight. She stays in her chair, frozen for a few moments before she follows him, catching sight of the large blood droplets trailing in his wake. She takes the stairs more quickly, wanting to find him as quickly as possible, her heart beat pounding in her ears. 

She eventually locates him in Susannah’s bathroom. He’s straddling the large tub, head bowed, hair still dripping, as he presses a towel into his leg. She can already see the blood starting to soak through, dripping down his calf. 

She feels dizzy for a moment and pauses in the doorway. 

“It’s already stopped bleeding.” He says but his face is as white as a sheet, the same color as the marble counter in the bathroom. He looked like he might pass out. “Looks worse than it is, I promise.”

She finally gets her senses about her and moves towards the vanity to look for supplies. “Keep putting pressure on it.” She says in a calm, commanding tone. 

She eventually finds some hydrogen peroxide, gauze, and wrap, before she turns to face him again. He’s in the same position as before. She sits down across from him, also straddling the edge of the tub. “Let go.” She says in the same tone as before. 

“I’m fine. I can do it.” He says weakly. 

Exasperation creeps into her voice. “You are not fine. Will you just let me fucking help you.” He’s quiet then, and lets her take over. She holds the towel firmly to his leg for a few more moments. 

He winces slightly. “Sorry.” She whispers. After a while she removes the towel to inspect the cut. It’s long and thin but looks pretty deep. She grabs the detachable shower head from the tub and turns the water on, testing it on her hand until it’s a gentle lukewarm. She starts to clean him up, starting with his foot, and then calf, her hand running along it trying to remove the drying blood. She turns the pressure down even lower before moving to clean the cut. After most of the blood is washed away, she takes the hydrogen peroxide and pours it onto the cut. 

“Ow.” He cries out, and his head moves forward to rest on her shoulder and upper chest, his wet hair quickly soaking through her shirt. She can feel his breath on her skin, the little gasps and groans he makes as she wipes at his thigh. If she weren’t so worried about him, she thinks she would be insanely turned on. 

“You’re such a baby, it’s just a scratch.” It comes out much less composed than her early words and much more breathy. 

“Mhmm.” He groans and she can feel the sound reverberate in her chest. Once the wound is sufficiently clean, she dabs on some antibiotic ointment, before gently placing down the gauze and wrapping the bandage around his thigh. 

“See, all better.” her hand still on his thigh, she rubs below the cut gently with her thumb. 

They stay like that for a few moments before he eventually lifts his head from her shoulder to look her in the eyes. “Thank you.” He whispers. His wet hair is falling across his forehead, water still dripping down his face, his lips, the light from the window making his eyes so green. 

“Sure.” She says back in a low whisper. Their eyes still fixed on each other, her hand still on his thigh. She can feel his breath on her neck, still a little uneven. She knows she should move away but she suddenly hears Taylor’s voice in her head what if you just let yourself feel it?

Well, she feels like she wants to kiss him. More like she needs to, like  she might spontaneously combust if she doesn’t 

So, she does. 

She closes that last inch of distance between them, pressing her lips gently against his. He seems frozen for a moment, in surprise, before he’s kissing her back. It’s a slow kiss, she can taste the saltiness of the ocean on his lips. She moves closer to him, her other hand tangling in his wet hair as he moans into her mouth. The kiss is still slow, but deepens as their tongues start to move against each other. She doesn’t mean to, but the hand on his thigh moves upward and suddenly he’s pulling a way, a sharp gasp sliding through his lips. 

“Shit. Sorry.” She says, yanking her hand away from his leg. They just stay there for a moment, foreheads together, both panting, trying to catch their breath. Her lips are tingling and there's a warmth spreading across her chest. 

“Belly, will you help me up? I think I’m going to go take a nap.” Voice low and rough. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You lost a lot of blood.”

This gets a soft chuckle from him. “That’s for concussions. Trust me, I’m the med student.” He places a hand on her shoulder and pushes himself to stand, carefully moving his injured leg. She scrambles up as well, her arms encircling his bare torso. “Let me help you, atleast.” 

He keeps one hand on her shoulder as they walk down the hall, his weight leaning into hers. Their steps are slow, uneven, but perfectly in sync.

When they reach his room, she lowers him gently to sit on the edge of the bed. His lids are heavy and he looks like he’s about to just collapse into the mattress. That’s when she realizes he’s still soaking wet and still wearing swim trunks that are covered in blood and sea water. She moves towards his dresser and she can feel his eyes on her. She pulls out a loose pair of shorts that should be easy to get on without irritating the cut, and walks back over to where he sits on the bed. 

“Conrad, come on we need to get you out of those trunks.” His eyes widen and snap up to hers, some of his color had come back but it drains from his face again now. 

“No Belly, it’s fine. I’m just gonna lay here and I’ll figure it out later.” 

“No. You’ll ruin the bed with the blood and you’ll freeze. Plus it’s not like it’s anything…” She was about to say anything she hadn’t seen before. “I won’t even really look, I’ll just help you slide them over the cut. “ She can hear his sharp intake of breath but he doesn’t protest any further. She sets the shorts on the bed next to him. She gently pushes at his shoulder, encouraging him to lean back. He moves to lay back, resting on his forearms, he’s looking up at her, mouth hanging slightly open, eyes swimming with emotion. Anxiety maybe, mixed with something else. 

She moves her hands to the waist band of his trunks and he goes rigid under her hands. “I promise I'll be as careful as possible.” She’s doing her best to keep her eyes trained on his face, as she gently starts to slide the trunks off. She stops when she gets close to where the cut is, tugging the waist band wider so it hopefully won’t touch it, eyes still focused on his face, as she pushes them down his legs and they fall to the floor. He gasps anyway though. 

“Oh my god, did I hurt you?” She asks earnestly

His eyes are wide and he’s stammering. “No, Belly. I’m sorry…”

“Sorry for…” She starts to ask but then she can’t help but see it. With his trunks on the floor, Conrad was very much naked. And he wasn’t just naked, he was naked, and very very hard, red and resting against his stomach. 

Belly had not seen this particular part of Conrad Fisher in years, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it. 

Her memories did not do it justice. 

She looks back up at his face then, he’s covering it with his hands, just peering at her through a gap in his fingers. “I’m so sorry, Belly. Just go….” She can tell he’s so mortified that he’s spread bare in front of her, clearly very turned on. She really can’t blame him though because wasn’t she also turned on by his little groans earlier. Not to mention the kiss she had initiated. 

His hair is a mess, his lips are pink and wet, and there’s a flush creeping up his neck. He’s beautiful, she thinks. Possibly the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“Conrad.” She whispers. Her hand is suddenly on his chest, ghosting over his skin. He moves his hands away from his face, mouth hanging open wide. His eyes no longer the light green from the bathroom, having darkened several shades. 

Her hand trails down his chest, fingers trembling as they follow the defined lines of his muscles. The heat radiating off him sends her heart racing. She looks down, noticing his discomfort, and without thinking, she drops to her knees in front of him. 

“That would probably make it really hard for you to rest, pun intended” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, a spark of mischief igniting within her. 

He watches her, his eyes widening in surprise, but the tension in the air is electric. She hesitates for just a moment, feeling the weight of the moment, but desire overrides her uncertainty. She leans forward, her breath warm against his skin. 

“I want to help you feel better,” she whispers, looking up at him. 

She settles between his thighs, leaning down to pepper kisses along his lower stomach before licking a stripe up his cock. With that, she takes him in her mouth, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through her straight to her core. He gasps, and she feels him tense above her. She moves slowly at first, savoring the taste of him, the way he feels against her tongue. His skin is salty from the ocean mixed with something simply Conrad. 

They had done this a few times before but it had mainly been quick ones in his car, her very nervous and at an awkward angle over the center console. This was entirely different. 

“Belly…” he groans, and the sound sends shivers down her spine. His hands find her hair, wrapping the long strands around his fingers as he guides her gently.

She picks up the pace, her mouth working him with a rhythm that feels intoxicating, every gasp and moan from him urging her on. She can feel him getting closer, his breaths becoming shallow and uneven. She hums around him and he bucks up into her mouth. 

“God, I’m—” he starts, but she can feel the tension building, the way his body responds to her, and she knows he’s close.

With one final push, she intensifies her movements, moving up and down his cock, hollowing out her cheeks, her hand coming up to squeeze his balls. She feels him pulse in her mouth. “Yes, just like that, so good for me” he encourages, his voice thick with pleasure.

“Fuck, Belly. You’re so beautiful, so perfect.” Moments later, she feels him release, warmth flooding her mouth as he groans her name, his body tensing beneath her. She pulls back slightly, swallowing everything he gave her as she watches him come undone, a mixture of awe and satisfaction filling her chest.

“Wow,” he breathes, eyes half-lidded, still catching his breath. 

She sits back on her heels, a flutter of uncertainty creeping in as reality settles around them. “You should probably rest now,” she says softly, rising to her feet. 

“Belly…” he starts, but she cuts him off gently.

“Just let me take care of you.” She picks up the discarded shorts and very gently helps him put them on. He finally moves to lie fully on the bed, she kisses his forehead gently before moving to leave the room, her heart pounding. As she walks away, she feels a mix of exhilaration and confusion, knowing this moment hasn’t changed everything. Not yet. 

She glances back at him, seeing the remnants of bliss on his face as he leans back against the bed. “Get some sleep, okay?” 

Conrad nods, still breathless, a small smile creeping onto his lips. 

“And Conrad? Yes. When you’re feeling better I would love to go on a date.” 

As she steps out of the room, she takes a deep breath. The weight of what just happened lingers in the air, and she knows there’s more to navigate between them. But for now, she would let him rest—letting the moment settle in their minds, ready to face whatever comes next. 

Conrad

He sleeps longer than usual, late morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft patterns across the room, and Conrad stirs, feeling the familiar warmth of the sun on his skin. He feels a little stiff having been in bed for so long and there’s still a dull throb from the cut on his thigh, but there’s a lightness in his chest that makes him smile.

Yesterday flashes through his mind in vivid detail—the feel of Belly’s lips, the way she took care of him. He feels like he can still taste her, the saltiness mingling with the lingering warmth that just feels like her. 

He glances down at the bandage on his thigh, grateful that it’s not as painful as it was. Belly had been so gentle, so focused, her touch both comforting and electrifying. The memory of her dropping to her knees, looking up at him with that smirk, sends another rush of heat through him. A part of him can’t believe she wanted to do that, and yet, the memory solidifies how much she means to him.

With a newfound determination, he pushes the sheets aside and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Today is the day he’s going to show her what they could be—what they could have. He wants to plan a proper date, something that makes her feel special and cherished. He wants to make sure she doesn’t regret giving him this chance. 

He stands, wincing slightly as he puts weight on his leg, but it’s nothing compared to the thrill of anticipation building inside him. He makes his way to the bathroom for a much needed shower.

After getting ready, he heads downstairs and finds Belly in the kitchen, already brewing coffee and pouring herself a glass of orange juice. She looks up and smiles, a warm light in her eyes that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Good morning, how are you feeling?” she says, her voice soft and inviting.

“Much better, thanks to you.” he feels his ears get hot, grabbing a mug and pouring himself some coffee.

“It was no big deal.” she replies, her cheeks flushing slightly, and he can’t help but smile. The memory of last night hangs in the air between them, a beautiful tension that makes his stomach flutter. Neither of them mention the specifics, scared to break this fragile bubble they are living in. 

They settle at the table together, sharing a breakfast of toast, fresh fruit, and a few scrambled eggs. Chatting lightly as they eat.

Conrad watches her laugh, the way her eyes light up, and he feels a wave of fondness wash over him. He wants more of this—more moments like these, full of laughter and simplicity.

Once breakfast is finished, he realizes it’s time to put his plan into action. “Hey, I was thinking of heading into town this afternoon. Do you need anything?” he asks casually, trying to keep his excitement hidden.

Belly furrows her brow for a moment, considering. “I think we maybe need a few things but I could go with you…” she replies.

“No!” He says too quickly. “Why don’t you just text me a list and I’ll take care of everything.”

She narrows her eyes at him but she’s still smiling. “You’re being weird.” 

He scoffs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just umm have to stop at a few extra places and I don’t want to waste your time.” He says, making his best attempt to sound nonchalant.  

“Whatever you say.”

“Actually, why don’t you get ready at around six? I’ll be back by then, and we can head out,” he suggests, trying to sound casual. The idea of her in something nice for tonight makes him grin internally.

“Six? For what?” she asks, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

“For our date,” he says, making sure to keep the surprise under wraps. “I don’t want to give you time to change your mind.” He tries to keep it light but he can hear the nervousness in his own voice. 

Her eyes widened. “Our date?”

“Yes, I thought you said yes yesterday, unless I misheard…” He trails off. 

“No! I mean yes, I said yes.” She says, his smile widens. “What exactly am I supposed to wear on this date?”

“Whatever you want, Belly. You always look beautiful to me.” He says earnestly. 

“Okay, I’ll be ready,” she replies, a playful smile on her lips.

Conrad finishes his coffee, the anticipation bubbling inside him. “Great. Just trust me on this one.”

After a few more quick exchanges filled with laughter and warmth, he stands to grab his keys. “I’ll see you later, Belly,” he says, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before heading towards the door. He glances back to see her fingers touching her cheek and a small smile on her lips. 

*

As he drives into town, excitement thrums through him. He stops at the fruit stand, picking out the ripest peaches he can find, and then heads to the florist, his heart racing as he asks for a small bouquet of peonies. He can’t help but smile at the thought of Belly’s reaction when she sees them. 

He stops at Michaels to buy some lanterns and a string of battery powered lights. He goes to the grocery store to get his picnic ingredients. And lastly, he stops at the bakery to pick up desserts. He ends up going with macarons and chocolate cupcakes. The lady tries to offer him these very dark 80% cacao ones, but he asks for the sweeter, milk chocolate ones knowing it’s Belly’s favorite. 

With his arms full of supplies and excitement coursing through his veins, he heads back to the beach house, feeling more hopeful than he has in a long time. Tonight, he’ll do everything he can to show Belly how much he cares and to make her feel special. 

*

Luckily, Belly is upstairs when he gets back to the house. He stashes his non-perishable supplies in the mudroom and starts making a plan. He knows he has to keep Belly upstairs so as to not ruin the carefully curated surprise. He makes her a sandwich and a plate with some fruit and veggies and goes to take it to her. 

He knocks lightly on Belly’s bedroom door, the sound echoing softly in the hallway. “Hey, Belly, it’s me,” he calls out.

“Come in!” she replies, and he pushes the door open, a grin spreading across his face as he sees her sitting on her bed, a book in hand.

“I brought you a little something,” he says, holding the plate out to her. “Thought you might like a snack.”

Her eyes light up at the sight of the fresh peaches. “You didn’t need to do that, I would have eventually fed myself,” she beams, taking the plate from him. 

“Now, here’s the deal,” he continues, crossing his arms playfully. “You can’t come downstairs until I say so. Or you’ll ruin the surprise.”

Belly raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. “A surprise? You’re not going to let me in on what it is?”

“Nope! You just have to trust me,” he says, resisting the urge to say fuck the picnic and kiss her until neither of them can breathe. “Just enjoy your snack, and I’ll come get you when it’s time.”

“Okay, fine,” she laughs, settling back against her pillows. “I’ll stay up here, but it better be good.”

Conrad chuckles before stepping out, closing the door gently behind him. The excitement bubbling inside him pushes him to get moving. He heads downstairs, grabbing the peonies and sets them in a vase, a small touch to brighten the atmosphere for later.

Next, he sets about preparing the food. Belly has been talking so much about Paris so he wanted to make it like a European charcuterie. Like what they would have if they were picnicking on the Mediterranean coast. He carefully slices fancy cheeses and fruits. He lays them carefully on a wooden cutting board along with meats, crackers, and slices of  baguette. He even has a picture pulled up on his phone to use for reference when arranging everything.  He made sure to put the wine in the fridge to chill along with the desserts. He can already picture them on the beach, the sun dipping below the horizon, a blanket spread out, and the sound of waves crashing as they share the meal together.

When the board is done, he feels very proud of himself. He had even watched a tutorial about how to turn the meat into roses. He puts plastic wrap over it and tucks it into the fridge for safekeeping. 

He then moves to the outdoor prep, gathering a large beach blanket, and a softer one she can use in case she gets cold. He takes the blanket, the flowers, the lights, and the lanterns out to the beach. It’s a lovely day, warm, with just a slight breeze. 

He lays everything out meticulously, arranging and rearranging things several times. He also grabs some of the cushions from the patio so they have something to lean against. 

With everything pretty much ready, he glances at the clock and realizes it’s almost time. Gathering everything he needs into a picnic basket, he takes a moment to savor the anticipation before heading back upstairs.

He changes his clothes, putting on grey chino shorts and a black knit polo. An outfit probably too nice for a picnic on the beach but he’s determined to look nice. He leaves his feet bare. He checks his watch and realizes it’s time and walks down the hallway to her door. 

“Belly!” he calls, knocking on her door again. “You can come down now!”

The door opens, and she steps out, a soft smile blooming on her face. “What’s the surprise?” She’s wearing another white sundress but this one doesn’t have a pattern. It has a soft sweetheart neckline and lace outlining the bottom of the skirt. The contrast against her tan skin is so lovely. She’s wearing makeup, a slight smokey eye and her lips are painted a deep red. 

“Beautiful.” He whispers. Yeah, screw the picnic, let’s go straight to bed, he thinks.

She laughs softly. “You clean up pretty good yourself.” They smile at each other for a few moments before he finally remembers the plan he’s spent hours preparing. 

“Follow me,” he says, trying to contain his excitement as he reaches out for her hand.

Together, they make their way down the path leading to the beach. The soft sounds of the waves greet them,  as they reach the sand. Conrad had grabbed the basket on their way out the door and he guides her to his blanket setup. 

“Wow, this is beautiful,” Belly says, taking a seat on the blanket. 

He joins her, pulling out the food and wine from the basket, setting everything out with care. “I wanted to do something nice for you. I never really got to do a lot of things like this.” 

Belly looks at him, her eyes shining with appreciation. “This is perfect, Conrad. Thank you.”

They share the charcuterie and sip wine, the conversation flowing effortlessly as they laugh and talk about their plans, their dreams, and everything in between. The sun continues to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over them, making the moment feel even more magical.

She tells him about Paris and all the places she hopes to go. He listens attentively and tells her he’s so excited for her and he can’t wait to hear all about it. 

She bites into one of the cupcakes, moaning as she chews. It’s so hot and so endearing. She comes away with frosting at the corner of her lips which he swipes away with his thumb, before sliding it into his mouth.

As the sun finally sinks below the horizon, leaving a lingering twilight, he feels a surge of warmth, knowing this might be their new beginning. He isn’t sure what that means, or what it looks like, he just hopes that maybe they will get something right this time. 

Belly

Sitting on the blanket, the soft sand beneath her and the sound of the waves crashing nearby, Belly can’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over her. The way Conrad had set everything up was thoughtful and sweet, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that had clouded her mind for weeks.

Last night still lingers in her thoughts—the kiss, the heat she felt as he gripped her hair when she took him in her mouth. It was as if all the confusion and heartache had melted away, leaving only the warm glow of something new and exciting. She knows there’s so much to figure out but it suddenly feels possible to maybe just let herself enjoy it all for a while. And now, here they are, sitting together under the fading light of the sunset, and she can’t shake the flutter in her stomach.

As they share dinner—delicious meats, cheeses, and fruits (including perfect peaches)—she watches him with a mix of admiration and affection. He’s so dedicated, pouring his heart into everything he does. It makes her realize how much she’s missed this side of him, the part that cares deeply.

“So, what do you think?” he asks, breaking her from her thoughts. “About the food, I mean.”

“It’s amazing,” she replies, taking another bite. “You really outdid yourself.”

Conrad smiles, a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”

The conversation flows easily between them, covering topics ranging from their favorite childhood memories to their aspirations for the future. She tells him about Paris and her plans to go to graduate school for sports psychology. He sounds so genuinely excited for her, asking so many heartfelt questions. He talks about medical school and the difficulty of deciding what to specialize in. He tells her about his friends in California. Belly feels the tension of the past gradually fading, replaced by a comfortable warmth that makes her heart swell. It feels like they’ve finally been let back into each other’s lives. 

But as they talk, she can’t help but wonder about what it would mean for them to try again. The thought both excites and terrifies her. Could they really overcome the hurt and confusion that had plagued their history? Would they be able to build something solid together this time?

“Belly,” Conrad says, his voice dropping slightly, drawing her attention back to him. “Can we talk about… us?”

Her heart races, both from anticipation and uncertainty. “What do you mean?”

“Yesterday—what happened between us… It felt like more than just a moment,” he says, searching her eyes earnestly. “I know we both have a lot to figure out, but I can’t shake the feeling that we might have a second chance here.”

She swallows hard, the weight of his words settling deep within her. “I feel it too, but…” 

“It’s okay to be scared,” he reassures her, his voice steady. “I am too. But I want to try. I don’t want to run away from this, from you, like I did before.”

Belly looks down at her hands, her pulse quickening. Could they really do this? Could they rebuild? Did he mean everything he was saying? The girl left at the motel wasn’t sure. What if when things got hard again, because of stress or the distance, it didn’t work. “I think I want this, Conrad, but I need time to figure things out,” she admits softly. “There’s still so much that’s unresolved.”

“I understand,” he replies, his expression a mix of hope and patience. “Let’s take it slow then. No pressure, just… see where this goes.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes her heart flutter. “Okay,” she whispers, a smile breaking through. “I’d like that.”

With the weight of their conversation hanging in the air, Conrad leans in, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepens as they both lean into it, the world around them fading away. It’s a promise wrapped in warmth, the start of something careful but beautiful.

As they pull back, both breathless and smiling, Belly can’t help but feel a rush of excitement. The spark she seemed to always feel when she was around him. Maybe she didn’t need to fight against it anymore. 

But as she glances over Conrad’s shoulder, her heart drops. In the distance, she spots a familiar figure walking toward them quickly from the house, and her stomach twists in knots.

“Jere…” she breathes, the name barely escaping her lips.

Conrad turns slightly, and she can see the realization dawn on his face as he follows her gaze. Jeremiah is approaching, and suddenly the moment they just shared feels fragile, like glass poised to shatter.

“Stay here,” Conrad says quietly, his expression shifting as he prepares for the inevitable confrontation.

Belly’s heart races, torn between the joy of what just happened and the fear of everything that could come crashing down. She watches as Jeremiah draws nearer, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. 

This wasn’t how she wanted the evening to end.