"Corsica, stop! You made your point!"
I heard her smothered sobs as the wind changed and blew hard against me. She was crying and running away so I wouldn't see. I broke into a grin. She did care! She wanted to hear that I loved her. She needed to hear it now. I tried shouting it, but the wind threw the words back in my face.
Then everything stopped. Corsica had come to an outcrop of rocks. The beach continued on the other side, but the waves slammed into the sheer wall right in front of her. She looked back at me and then out after the receding black water. I could tell by the way she shifted back and forth that she was timing the waves. The wet sand reappeared, a silver glint under the moon, and Corsica took her chance.
A terrified yell ripped from my throat as I saw the five-foot wall rear up. It broke into a white froth and bore down just as she slipped out to run around the cliff. She dropped her hem as she caught her balance, and the dark dress seemed to merge with the midnight ocean. The wave hit, and she disappeared.
I splashed into the water just as the wave drew back. I felt the powerful undertow sucking at my ankles, and I had to fight hard to keep going. By the time I slogged around the outcrop to the next stretch of beach, I couldn't see Corsica anywhere.
Panicked, I turned around and peered into the roiling waters, calling her name. Had she been pulled out into those clashing waves? She was strong; I would see her struggling. I searched and searched, but didn't see a hint of her in the black waters. Then, I spun around and sprinted down the beach. I checked every sand dune and inlet, every pile of driftwood. Too many times to count, I looked over my shoulder and had to double back and assure myself the knots of seaweed were not her tangled in her wet dress.
Corsica was gone.
Staving off the panic that was consuming me, I ran to my beach house. Every muscle ached by the time I pulled myself up the steps to the deck. There were wet footprints on the wooden planks and sandy smudges on the door. I fought the dizzying urge to drop to my knees in thanks. Instead, I hauled open the sliding door and marched inside.
The door to her guest suite was shut tight and I hammered on it until I thought the wood might split. "Corsica? I just want to know you're okay."
There was no answer and I gripped the doorframe as I listened for any hint of her. "Please tell me you're here. You could have been killed out there on the beach."
I caught my breath and listened, hoping she was on the other side of the door doing the same. Then, the words finally formed. "Corsica, please, I don't want to be done. It's true that I tried to get you out of my system, but it didn't work. It backfired. I need you.
“Corsica, I love you."
There was no reply. I rattled the door handle and realized it was unlocked. The guest suite door swung open, and I froze to the carpet. It looked like nothing had been touched. There was no sign that Corsica had made it back at all. The cold fingers of fear closed around me again and I tore into the room, praying for some sign.
"Please, please, please," I panted as I tore open her closet.
All her clothes were there in a row. I swung around and raced into the bathroom. There my frozen heart started to pump again. Her hair brush, her make-up bag, the running shoes that she'd kept in the corner, they were all gone. I ran back into the room and dove to look under the bed. Her suitcase was gone.
Corsica was alive, but she'd already left. I knelt there until the pressing waves of relief let up.
Then, I sat back on my heels and frowned at the closet. Why had she left so many things behind?
I stood up and looked at the sundresses and blouses again. Corsica had left behind the few designer label items she owned.
Chapter Nineteen
Corsica
Ginny burst through the front door of her apartment and was not surprised to find me still sprawled out across the couch. "You know this is still your place, too," she said over a full bag of groceries.
"How can it be when I just took off and left you with my half of the rent?"
"You've already paid me back." She rolled her eyes. "Though, you could give me a hand with these things."
I jumped up and followed her to our tiny galley kitchen. It felt suffocating compared to the open expanses of Penn's beach house kitchen, but I refused to think about it. I stuffed myself in the back and started to unpack the brown bag.
"Tortillas, avocados, what is all this?" I asked. I probably owed Ginny for groceries, too, I thought.
"We're having taco night." My friend grinned and opened a cupboard with a flourish. "Tacos and lots of tequila. Doctor's orders."
Tears welled up in my eyes. "Am I that bad?"
Ginny propped her hands on her hips. "Not you. The whole breaking up and almost killing yourself on the beach thing was bad, but you have been good. Too good. You need to let it out."
"Let what out?" I wailed.
Ginny took the salsa from me before I broke it. "You know it's okay that you fell for him, right? I mean, it's kind of amazing, seeing as you two look like polar opposites, but you had a real connection. Everyone could see it."