Page 60 of High Season
She says it too loudly, too sharply. He stops talking, his mouth still open, a hopeful smile still hovering on his lips.
“It’s too much,” she says.
He pauses, looking down at the picnic and then back up at her.
“Is it the champagne?” he says with a small wince. “Honestly, it’s only one of the cheap ones. I didn’t spend a fortune on it.”
“It’s not the champagne, it’s…”
Her skin feels too hot, and she wonders if she caught the sun earlier. She gestures toward the picture-perfect setup.
“It’s all of it,” she says. “The whole thing. It’s…”
She’s struggling to find the words. Struggling to put it in a way that won’t hurt him.
“Well. This is something that you do for someone that you really like.”
“But I do—”
“No.” She holds her palms flat out toward him. “Don’t say it.”
“I…” He looks again between the picnic blanket and Josie, as if searching for a response. As if there’s something fundamental that he’s missed, some answer that might be hiding behind the bowl of strawberries. “I don’t understand,” he says at last. “I thought we had a good time last night. I thought we had a lot of fun. I thought that if Nina hadn’t turned up… well. It felt like it was maybe going somewhere.”
“You’re right,” Josie says. There’s something heavy and solid in her throat. “You don’t understand.”
The sea is calm, but still she feels her legs brace as if prepared for a great wave.
“I can’t do this.”
“The picnic? Or this?” He gestures one hand between them both.
“Any of it,” she says. “I don’t know what you want from me, but it’s too much.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” he says. “I just thought that we clicked. I thought this seemed like something that could go somewhere. That maybe we could just see where it goes—”
“But that’s exactly the problem. I don’t have the luxury of being able to justsee where things go.”
Josie closes her eyes, briefly, and takes a deep breath in. When she opens them, he’s still there, still looking at her, forehead furrowed.
“You don’t understand what my life is like, Nic. It’s not like yours, or Gabby’s, or Calvin’s, or anyone else’s. I can never just see where things go, because they always, always go wrong, in the end.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you want more from me than I can give, Nic. I can’t do relationships. I can’t do falling in love, or thinking about the future, because in the end, I always have to leave. You’ll end up hating me, and I’ll end up having my heart broken. It’s just how it is. It’s how it always has been, for me.”
He doesn’t say anything. His mouth, poised open as if ready to leap in with a defense, shuts.
“I think I should be getting back,” Josie says quietly.
She sees him swallow, the bob of his throat.
“If that’s what you want to do,” he says. “I’m not going to stop you.”
“Fine.”
“Great.”
“It’s not you, Nic, really. It’s me.”
