6
Colter
I can’t believe I just suggested pretending to be in love with Robin.
As we walk toward the snorkeling tour meeting point, I replay the conversation in my head. Think you can handle that? What was I thinking? Do I even have to pretend?
I know the answer before I finish asking myself the question.
No. I don’t have to pretend at all. Because now that I’m around Robin again, I know I never stopped loving him.
Maybe this is the perfect excuse to find out if he still loves me too.
The snorkeling trip is everything Jules promised it would be. Crystal-clear water, colorful fish darting between coral formations, and Robin’s eyes lighting up behind his mask every time he spots something new. We swim side by side, pointing out sea creatures to each other—a bright yellow tang, a shy octopus hiding in a crevice, a sea turtle gliding past like it has nowhere to be and all the time in the world.
At one point, Robin grabs my arm and gestures excitedly at a small reef shark in the distance. His grip is firm and familiar, and when he looks at me, bubbles escaping from his snorkel, his eyes are crinkled with joy.
I forget, for a moment, that we’re supposed to be just friends.
After the tour, the guide drops us back at the port. We’re still damp from the ocean, salt drying on our skin, but neither of us seems to mind. The sun is lower now, casting everything in golden light, and Robin’s wet hair is curling at the edges the way it always does.
“That was amazing,“
he says, still slightly breathless. “Did you see that turtle? I thought it was going to swim right into me.”
“You would have deserved it. You were basically stalking it.”
“I was appreciating it from a reasonable distance.”
“You were three feet away.”
Robin grins, unrepentant, and my heart does that stupid thing again.
“Hey,“
I say, before I can talk myself out of it. “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”
Robin’s steps slow. He looks at me, uncertain. “Dinner?”
“If we’re going to sell this to Jules and Marc, we have to make it believable.“
I keep my voice casual, like this is purely strategic. “What’s more convincing than dinner after spending all day together?”
Robin considers this for a moment. “We didn’t book a restaurant in advance.”
“Buffet, then. After we’ve showered. Meet you there at seven?”
A beat passes. Then Robin nods. “Okay. Seven, it is.”
The buffet is chaos in the best possible way.
We grab plates and wander through the stations, loading up on whatever catches our eyes. By the time we find a table, Robin’s plate is a disaster of conflicting cuisines, and mine isn’t much better.
“Okay,“
Robin says, staring at my tray. “Explain yourself.”
I look down. Mashed potatoes. Paella. Fries. “What?”
“You’ve triple-carbed. Potato, rice, and more potato.”
“Fries are their own food group.”
“Fries are potatoes, Colter.”
“Agree to disagree.“
I point at his plate. “You have sushi next to lasagna. You don’t get to judge me.”
“The sushi is a palate cleanser.”
“That’s not how palate cleansers work.”
“It is when there’s unlimited choice.“
Robin picks up a California roll and pops it into his mouth, maintaining eye contact the entire time. “See? Refreshing.”
I laugh, and it feels like something that’s been gripping my chest tight loosens. This is what I missed. Not just Robin, but the easy back-and-forth, the stupid jokes.
We eat and talk, conversation flowing naturally from the snorkeling trip to life back in Pine Ridge. Eventually, I ask the question I’ve been curious about all day.
“How’s the shop doing?”
“Good,“
Robin says, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Really good, actually. But I’ve been working on something else recently. A side project.”
“Yeah?”
“Software.“
He leans back in his chair, and I can see the excitement building in his expression. “You know how small businesses in Pine Ridge always need extra help but can’t afford permanent staff?”
I nod. I know it well. I have the same problem during busy seasons when I’m out all day with clients and would love someone to do all the admin I end up doing when I go home in the evening.
“So I built this platform. Businesses register the help they need—hours, days, even months—and people looking for work can apply and match. That way, someone who can only work twenty hours a week can still find consistent opportunities, and businesses get the flexibility they need.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“It’s not exactly innovative,“
Robin admits. “Gig economy apps exist. But here’s the difference. When a business accepts someone through the platform, they pay a pro rata fee that covers the worker’s benefits. Health insurance, paid vacation—all of it. The software calculates everything automatically so the businesses don’t have to figure it out themselves.”
He’s talking faster now, the way he always does when he’s passionate about something.
“People with young kids at home, or people caring for elderly parents, or anyone who just wants flexible work shouldn’t be treated differently than someone with a permanent job. They deserve the same protections.“
Robin shrugs. “Anyway. It’s still in development. But I’ve got a few businesses in Pine Ridge willing to test it out when it’s ready.”
I stare at him.
This man. This incredible, thoughtful, brilliant man. He saw a problem in his community and built a solution. Not for profit, not for recognition, but because he genuinely cares about people.
This is the moment I know I’m not just still in love with Robin.
I’ve never been more in love with him than I am right now.
“What?“
Robin asks, shifting under my gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason.“
I clear my throat. “Do you want to go dancing?”
“Dancing?”
“There’s a party on the top deck tonight with a live deejay.“
I stand up and offer him my hand. “Come on. When’s the last time we went dancing?”
Robin looks at my hand, then at me, but whatever is making him hesitate is gone when he takes my hand and lets me pull him to his feet.
“Let’s go.”
The top deck is transformed.
String lights crisscross overhead, and the deejay is playing something with a heavy beat that vibrates through the floor. People are everywhere—dancing, drinking, laughing under the stars. The energy is infectious, and when Robin grabs my hand and pulls me into the crowd, I let him.
We dance.
It’s awkward at first. We’re both out of practice, and there’s a self-consciousness between us that wasn’t there before. But then a song we both know comes on, something from years ago when we first started dating, and Robin laughs and throws his hands up and suddenly it’s like no time has passed at all.
We used to do this all the time. Back when we first met, before responsibilities and routines took over. We’d drive to Denver just to go to a club, dance until two in the morning, and fall into bed together in a cheap hotel.
I’d forgotten how much I missed it.
The songs blur together. We get closer without meaning to, drawn into each other’s orbit like gravity. Robin’s hand finds my waist. My hand finds the back of his neck. We’re barely dancing anymore, just swaying together, foreheads almost touching.
His eyes are so green in the string lights. So familiar. So beautiful.
“Colter,“
he says. I can’t hear him over the music, but I can read my name on his lips.
“Yeah?”
He doesn’t answer. He just looks at me, and I look at him, and the music fades to nothing.
Then we’re kissing.
His lips are warm and taste like the rum drink he had earlier. His hands grip my shirt tight. I pull him closer, closer, until there’s no space left between us, and I pour everything I can’t say into this kiss.
I love you. I never stopped. I’m sorry. Please give me another chance.
When we finally break apart, we’re breathing hard. Robin’s cheeks are flushed, his lips slightly swollen, and he’s looking at me like he’s just woken up from a dream.