Greyson stands up and brushes the sand from his jeans. He stretches his hand toward me, and from this angle, he's eight feet tall.

"What?" I ask.

"Come on."

I hesitate, but ultimately take his hand and let him pull me up off the blanket. "You're not about to go all Hulk on me again and make us leave, are you?"

He looks down at me and wrinkles his brow in confusion. "What're you talking about?"

"The night of the bonfire. After Wyatt was done playing you got all weird and made us leave. Gave me some excuse about needing to pick up Hercules so your dad would go to bed."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that." He runs his hands through his wind-blown hair and clears his throat. "You had just told me you were going back to New York, and I didn't want to get comfortable having you in my arms again. I didn't want to get attached knowing you were leaving."

I look up at him and swallow hard. "Oh."

He brushes his finger across my forehead, sweeping my hair off my face, and down the sensitive skin of my throat before he wraps his hand around the back of my neck. My body betrays me, and I shiver under his delicate touch. The thin strap of my dress slips off my shoulder, and I watch his fingers slowly graze my skin and place the strap back where it belongs. His hand lingers there for a second, and I find myself missing the contact when he pulls away.

"Let's go for a walk," he says.

Lacing his fingers through mine, he lifts my hand to his mouth and presses his lips against the inside of my wrist, and though the rest of my body feels like it's on fire, my skin feels cool as a breeze blows against the moisture his kiss left behind. I wait for him to realize what he did as we begin to walk, but he never does. It's a simple gesture, and only one of the many ways he'd show me affection when we were together, but we haven't been that way for a long time. It's a gesture that shouldn't come natural to him anymore.

We walk along the beach in comfortable silence. Waves crash violently along the shore, splashing against my legs and soaking the hem of my dress. Sand sticks to the backs of my legs as another waves hurls itself toward me, nearly knocking me over. Greyson strolls next to me, close enough I'm able to grab his arm when it feels like the ocean might toss me to the ground, but far enough away I'm able to resist the urge to interlock my fingers with his. He turns toward me and playfully kicks some water in my direction, splashing me. I giggle – an embarrassing, adolescent sound – and splash him back.

"Tell me more about New York."

"What do you wanna know?"

"I don't know. Something you haven't told me yet. Tell me more about NYU."

I exhale sharply and look out into the water. "We don't have to talk about that."

"Why not? Didn't you like it?"

"I loved it. I just feel weird discussing it with you."

"Why?" he asks. He jerks his head back and frowns. "Why don't you wanna tell me about it?"

"Because my decision to go to New York is what tore us apart. I mean, who knows where we'd be right now if I hadn't been so selfish. Things between us are finally good and I don't wanna ruin it by talking about the thing that ultimately ended our relationship."

His frown deepens and his strong shoulders round as he slouches in defeat.

"You weren't selfish, Del," he says. "I was. Instead of making you feel bad for choosing something that would make you happy, I should have been supporting you. I should have been telling you how fucking proud I was of you for getting into NYU, because I was – so unbelievably proud. I'm sorry I put so much pressure on you to follow me. That was really fucking selfish of me. I never...I never even asked you what you wanted." An appalled laugh bursts from his mouth, like he's suddenly realizing that most of our relationship was about his career. "I was so wrapped up in my own dreams that I couldn't even see that you had your own. We didn't fall apart because you went to New York. We fell apart because I put my needs ahead of yours. I was terrified. I didn't know how to be a professional baseball player and the guy in a long-distance relationship – the guy you needed me to be - and I was afraid I was going to fuck it all up and lose you. Then I fucked it up and lost you anyway." He drops his head defeatedly and places his hands on his hips. "I'm so sorry for the things I said to you that day. I was hurt, and angry, and scared and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve that. Those words..." His eyes close as he pinches the bridge of his nose.  "They've haunted me every day for the last ten years. Like, I feel physically sick when I think about what I said to you. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. Do you think you can ever forgive me?"

I stare at him blankly. My breath comes out in heavy, rapid bursts and I can see the hurried rise and fall of my chest as I slowly take in everything he just said. All the things – the explanation I've been wanting to hear from him since the morning we broke-up I've finally gotten.

"Why didn't you say this a long time ago? Why didn't you call me, or find me in New York?"

"I did."

"You...you did?" I ask, my voice breathless.

He shoves his hands in his pockets as he slowly walks toward me. "Your dad used to call me before every game to wish me good luck. Did you know that?" I look up at him and shake my head. "Well, he did, and soon after I got called up I had a series with the Mets. Your dad gave me your address. You guys were living in an apartment –"

"On Perry Street. In the village," I interrupt, remembering the apartment Will and I lived in before we got married and he bought us the townhouse.

"Yeah. The apartment on Perry Street. We played Saturday night in that series, so I used the morning to find you so I could apologize for the way things ended between us. I wasn't familiar with the city yet, so I spent the better part of the day searching for the street you lived on, let alone your apartment building. But, I eventually found it, and when I did, you and Will were walking into the building with bags of groceries in your arms." He stops in front of me and takes my hands in his. They're warm and immediately thaw mine out. "It was unseasonably warm that day, and you were wearing a mint green dress and shoes that look like the ones you're wearing tonight. Your hair was shorter and blonder than it was when we were together, and it was curled around your face, and I remember you were laughing. You were laughing so hard I could hear you from across the street, and as soon as I saw you it was like I was whole again. Like the missing piece in the puzzle of my life had been found, and I was complete." He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead against mine, causing my heart to nearly burst with words unspoken. "But I couldn't bring myself to cross the street and approach you because you were happy. You looked so happy, and I didn't want to get in the way of that. I didn't want to ruin things for you."

Since the moment Greyson got called up I had his schedule memorized, so I knew when he was in New York, and I constantly wondered where he was. Did we ever just miss each other coming out of a coffee shop or nightclub? Were we ever walking down the street at the exact same time? Have we ever just missed sharing a cab? I would search the faces of every passerby, hoping one of them would be him. But to know he was so close to me – that had I just turned around for a second I would have seen him – shakes me to my core.

I slide my hands up his chest and ball his t-shirt in my hands. "You should've said hi."

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda, right?" He lightly brushes the tip of his nose against mine. "I've missed you. I miss you, pretty girl. I don't trust anyone the way I trust you."

Oddly enough, I know exactly what he means. Jo, Nico and Sloan are my very best friends. I love and adore my sister. My parents are my biggest support system, but none of them have ever been Greyson. Will was my spouse, and supposed to be the person I trusted completely, but even before he cheated, I never felt comfortable opening myself up to him the way I allowed myself to with Greyson. I just always assumed it was because Greyson and I were friends before we were each other's everything, so I'd never be able to give all of my heart to another man, but now I know it's because I always knew deep down that Will isn't the man I'm supposed to be with. We were never a forever thing.

"I miss you, too."

He smiles, dimples denting his cheeks, and looks out into the water, and if I wasn't completely enthralled by him and able to look away, I would have missed the boyish mischief flash in his eyes.

"What's that look?" I ask.

"What do you mean? I don't have a look."

"Yes, you do. Your eyes are telling me you're about to get us into trouble."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Greyson –"

"Let's go for a swim," he says. "Like we used to."

"What? No."

"Why not?" He walks further into the ocean, and I watch as the water soaks him, darkening the legs of his jeans. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you over my shoulder and drag you into the water. Besides the fact that life in the city has made you soft."

"Well, for one, it's nighttime."

"So, what? We used to swim at night all the time. Nothing ever happened to us."

"True. But that was when we were young and stupid. That was when we didn't know any better." I cross my arms against my chest and saunter toward him. "I also didn't bring my swimsuit."

"Go in your bra and underwear."

"I can't do that!" I exclaim.

"Why? It's nothing I haven't seen before."

He tries to be discreet, but I see the mischievous smirk curl the corner of his mouth as his eyes slowly, and hungrily, scan my body from head to toe.

"Greyson."

"Okay, fine." He begins to move his hands down his torso, slowly unbuttoning each button on his shirt, and slips it past his shoulders. "Guess I'll have to go in alone."

I gasp, my breath catching in my throat as I take him in. Greyson has always been built well. His height and athleticism kept him lean and toned throughout high school. His muscles were taut and well-defined, but he was thin. As a pitcher he couldn't be bulky. It would affect his throw. But the Greyson in front of me now is all man, and it's been a long time since I've been touched by one. This adult version of him is almost more than I can handle.

He watches me over his shoulder – waiting for me to give in – as he swaggers into the water. His jeans are low on his narrow hips, exposing the top of his round, muscular ass. The muscles in his back are strong and they flex as he dodges waves. His chest and shoulders are much broader than they used to be, and I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to be underneath him now, caged between his strong arms. I imagine it feels safe and warm – and familiar. It's too dark for me to count his ab muscles, but from what I can see he's working with at least an eight-pack. 

He looks like he's been carved from stone.

I snicker as he smiles at me and disappears under the water. Jo, Greyson, and I used to swim here at night all the time when we were younger, but like I told him, that was before we knew or even cared about the dangers it could bring. Riptide. Sharks and stingrays. Darkness. If something happens to him, I'm not strong enough, or a good enough swimmer to help, and there's no lifeguard on duty right now. If he were to get sucked underneath the water, or attacked by a shark, he'd die.

He's been under a lot longer than seems natural, and I start to panic thinking of all the things that could be happening to him. So, when he finally pops his head above the water, I press my palm against my chest and breathe a sigh of relief.

"What's wrong, Laney bug? You look worried," he teases.

I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest and grip both biceps in my hands as I try to ward of the chilly breeze coming off the water. "Nothing...nothing's wrong."

Just the fact that city life really has made me soft, and I thought you were either drowning or had been attacked by a great white shark.

"You should really come in."

"That's okay," I say. "I'm fine right here."

"If you're scared, don't be. I'll protect you." The exhilaration in his eyes as he goes under again nearly persuades me, but I keep my bare feet planted in the sand, content on staying right where I am. "Come on, Del. It feels amazing."

"I'm sure it does. Now, I think you've made your point," I shout over the rolling waves. "Time to get out."

"And why would I do that?"

I sigh in frustration. "Because it's past my bedtime, and I need my beauty sleep. You know better than anyone what I'm like if I don't get my required nine hours. Also, it's really dangerous to swim at night. God knows what kind of sea creatures are swimming near you right now."

"Are you afraid something is going to happen to me?"

"No," I lie.

He stands up and shakes water from his hair. "I think you are."

"No, I'm not."

"I've gotta say, you're concern for me is absolutely adorable."

"Okay. Fine!" I shout, throwing my arms in the air. "I'm worried about you swimming in a dark ocean at night. When you were under the water, I was convinced you had been either sucked in by the riptide or were being eaten by a pack of hungry piranhas. If something happens I can't save you, and there isn't a soul nearby to call for help. So, can you please stop acting like a stubborn child and get out of the water?"

That's the last thing I should have said. Greyson's eyes widen and he raises his eyebrows, challenging me. He lifts his arms and runs his hands through his wet hair. His jeans are soaked, and as he moves toward me the weight of the water causes them to slide down, exposing the distinct v-muscle that disappears under his waistband, seemingly leading to an area I wouldn't object to being reacquainted with sometime soon. He fights the waves, and as he does, his abs flex against his tan skin.

I tilt my head and drag my tongue across my bottom lip as I gawk at him, and when I hear a smug chortle come from his direction, I know I've been caught.

"I'm a stubborn child, am I?"

I look up at him and lift my chin in fake defiance. "Yes."

"Well, I think your materialistic, high-class, neurotic city life has caused you to lose your edge. The girl I knew would have jumped in long before I did."

"The girl you knew is long gone."

He lightly drags the tips of his fingers up my arms, and I shiver at the contact. "See, that's where you're wrong," he whispers, his voice deep and velvety. I can feel his warm breath against my ear. "I think she's still in there. In fact, I know she is. She just needs to be reminded."

"What do you –"

Before I can finish asking him what he means, Greyson wraps his arms around my thighs and throws me over his shoulder. Beads of water splash me in the face as he treks back into the ocean. I pound my fists against his bare back, kicking my feet ferociously in hopes he'll put me down.

"Greyson! No! Please, don't," I beg.

He only laughs and tightens his grasp on my legs. It's a beautiful sound, but my fear of swimming in dark water is climbing up my throat, threatening to choke me, and I'm not in the mood to laugh. My fingertips hit the water as he walks deeper into the ocean, and I whine as I realize how cold it's going to be when I'm fully submerged. I press my hands against his back and lift myself, sliding down his chest until my arms are wrapped around his neck and we're face to face.

"You remember how to swim, right?" he asks, and although I'm annoyed at him for forcing my hand, I can't help but giggle.

I hold my breath as Greyson leans back and falls into the water. It's freezing cold against my skin – like knives stabbing me all over my body. Bubbles tickle my nose as I breath out and thrash under the roaring waves as they collapse above me. I open my eyes and swim to the surface, but quickly dive under the water as a powerful swell strikes us, nearly drowning me. My lungs begin to burn. I swallow a mouthful of water and begin to choke, grabbing at my throat like it'll expel the water from my lungs and help me get oxygen. I reach for the surface but it's too far away. Panic sets in and I open and close my mouth as I long for air when I suddenly feel Greyson's hand wrap around my arm and pull me above the water.

"You okay?"

"You let me go! Why did you do that?" I ask, violently coughing up water. I weakly push him in anger. "I almost died!"

"You did not. I was right next to you the whole time. I said I'd protect you, didn't I?"

"Are you kidding me? I couldn't breathe!"

He slicks his wet hair back and sets his hands on his hips. "Look, I know you're annoyed I made you get in, but don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

"Dramatic?" I push him again, with a little more force this time, causing him to stumble back. "I'm being dramatic? I could have drowned! And look at me..." I look down at myself and fight back tears. My hair is drenched and stuck to my face in wet clumps. I can feel salty ocean water seeping from my nose. My light pink, Free People dress clings to my body, and I cringe when I do the math and realize how much it's going to cost me to get it dry-cleaned. "Do you have any idea how expensive this dress is?"

"Who cares? It's a damn dress!" he yells. "You've never cared about shit like that. In fact, you made fun of girls that did!"

"I told you I didn't wanna go swimming, but instead of listening to me you threw me over your shoulder like I was a five-year-old having a temper tantrum!" My throat aches from shouting at him. "My dress is ruined!"

"Oh my, God. Delaney." He drags his hands down his face in exasperation and growls. "It's a fucking dress! When did you become such a princess?"

My body flares with anger. "A princess? A princess? My life is anything but a fairytale, and I am the farthest thing from a princess. I've been manipulated, verbally and emotionally abused, turned into a fucking Stepford wife, all to find out that no matter how hard I tried it wasn't good enough, and it was never going to be. I've been cheated on, kicked out of my house, served divorce papers, and had my financial security taken away all without so much as a text message from anyone. I've been treated like shit that someone scraps off the bottom of their shoe for the last eight weeks, and you know what? I'm still here!" I shout, stretching my arms out to my sides. "I'm still here because I am strong, and smart, and independent, and I don't need anyone to take care of me. I may be starting from scratch at twenty-eight years old, but I'm fucking Delaney Rae James, and I'm damn sure going to figure it out. So, please, feel free to call me a princess one more time."

His mouth breaks out in a broad smile, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to wind up and slap him across his irritatingly gorgeous face. "There she is."

I drop my