The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of salt and the distant hush of ocean waves against the shore. Camille stood behind the counter of The Blue Harbor Café, drying the last of the mugs, her mind far from the task at hand.
Liam had gone to bed hours ago, but her thoughts still clung to the way he had laughed with Dominic over their chess game, the way his eyes had lit up when Dominic praised him.
It terrified her.
Dominic had always been charming—charismatic in a way that made it easy to forget the past, easy to slip into a world where he hadn't broken her heart.
And now, he wasn't just trying to win her over. He had Liam, too.
She wasn't sure which was more dangerous.
A knock on the café's glass door startled her. She turned, her heart lurching as she spotted Dominic standing outside.
For a second, she debated ignoring him. Pretending she hadn't seen him, locking the door, walking away.
But she sighed and walked over, unlocking the door with a wary expression.
"It's late," she said, folding her arms.
"I know," Dominic said. "I saw the lights on."
She hesitated but stepped aside. "Come in."
He entered, his presence filling the quiet space. She noticed how tired he looked, the faint shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders carried a weight that hadn't been there before.
"You should be resting," she said before she could stop herself.
His lips twitched. "I could say the same to you."
She shook her head, crossing the café to put the last of the dishes away. "What do you want, Dominic?"
He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. "I just—" He hesitated. "I wanted to say thank you. For letting me be in Liam's life."
She stiffened. "I didn't do it for you."
"I know." His voice was quieter now. "But you still did it. And that means something."
She turned, meeting his gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
There was something about the way he was looking at her—something raw, something vulnerable.
"Do you ever think about it?" he asked, voice rough. "The past?"
Her fingers curled against the counter. "I don't have the luxury of thinking about the past."
He took a step closer. "I do."
She swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against the carefully built walls around her heart.
"Do you regret it?" she asked before she could stop herself.
His throat bobbed. "Every day."
Her breath caught.
For years, she had convinced herself that Dominic never looked back. That leaving had been easy for him.
Hearing otherwise—seeing it in his eyes—made something inside her ache.
She didn't respond. She couldn't.
Because acknowledging his regret meant acknowledging her own.
And she wasn't ready for that.
Not yet.