October 2018 (Eight years later)
The Berkshires, MA, USA

Some people carve a space for themselves so deep in your mind that you cannot forget them no matter how hard you try. No blind date, no callous tumble in the sheets, not even my dearest friend Helena can erase the memory of the woman who has nestled inside my heart.

Sylvia Evangeline O'Shea.

A broken heart beats with all its pieces. And it still wants the same person. Whenever I'm hiking, she's always there with me. 

Even after eight years.

My heart pounds with exertion while I climb the last grassy hill before the summit, pushing myself to the limit until my muscles begin to ache.

After reaching the peak, I survey the panoramic views—an autumnal blanket of red, green, and gold. That's when I sense her presence the most. The ghost of her caress haunts me still, my fingertips tingling as though she's holding my hand for real.

What the hell is that? Simply the power of my imagination?

If I close my eyes, I can picture her shoulder-length dark waves fluttering in the breeze. Her hazel eyes, twinkling with delight. Her dainty lips parted in awe while she appreciates the beauty of Mother Nature. Her powerful legs, striding with purpose and determination before we reach the summit.

In my mind's eye, Sylvia laughs and wraps her arms around me the way she's done many times before. "We did it!"

That's when my heart shrivels. Because it's quiet. Almost silent apart from the twittering of birds and the rustling of leaves.

And I remember I'm alone.

With a heavy sigh, I rest my heavy pack against a boulder and dig around inside. While I wait for Helena, I take out the waterproof pouch that holds my camera and capture the amazing Berkshire foliage. No need to hurry because I'll have plenty of time.

That's fine. It's given me the chance to appreciate this beautiful scenery. No haze. Blue sky with fluffy clouds and near perfect visibility. Some tufts and rocks for foreground interest. A sweeping curve to lead the eyes along the base of the valley.

Time passes quickly until Helena joins me, clasping my shoulder.

"You win." Although she goes to the gym five times a week, this exercise takes time to master. "Guess you're right. Guide's pace is best."

"Slow and steady wins the race." Using the rule of thirds, I frame the last shot right before turning to her. "It's best not to think about how quickly it'll be over. Savor it. Take the time to enjoy your surroundings. Soak it in and remember it during all those stressful meetings in the office."

"Yeah, it's pretty, I guess." Helena huffs and plops herself down on a nearby boulder before tearing open the wrapper of the protein bar with her teeth and taking a giant bite. "I get why you enjoy it."

"Not for you, though?"

She shrugs and checks her fitness watch. "Nine hundred active calories. Fifteen thousand steps. Hmm, it's like doing the stepper slowly for three hours. Not a terrible reward-for-effort ratio, but I've seen better."

"Except that you're out in the fresh air." I sit beside her on the giant granite boulder. "Where you can feel the warm sun on your face and the cool breeze. Not to mention you can enjoy the company of friends."

"Yeah, you're a decent conversationalist," she teases me before giving me a playful nudge. "Almost made me forget that I was hauling my sorry ass up a steep hill while trying not to trip over every rock and tree root."

That's Helena for ya. Direct, blunt, and focused on the bottom line. Every decision is a cost-benefit analysis of pros and cons, with a heavy focus on potential cons whenever she's cautious. Not even sure she'd notice the beauty of nature if I didn't mention it.

"We still up for Sauna Sunday?" she asks after guzzling some water. "I have a feeling my muscles are gonna need it."

"After a swim, sure."

"Yeah, I'll hit the weights first if I'm not totally wrecked."

She won't be hitting the weights tomorrow, I can guarantee it. But she gets an A for ambition. As always.

"By the way, did you hear about Sylvia?" she asks without a preamble.

Ice drips down my spine when Helena mentions her name. After so many shattered dreams and disappointments, part of me doesn't want to know.

Even though I force myself to look away, Sylvia draws my attention again and again. She's the scab that would heal if only I could stop picking at it.

But I can't resist. One of my many human failings. Every day I check her socials to see what Sylvia's up to, and I google her name more often than I should. Just to make sure she's all right.

Every New Year's I tell myself I won't do it anymore.

Every February I fall back into bad habits.

Of course I know she's separated.

Staring intently at the camera screen to assess my photos, I hide my emotions beneath a veneer of calm. I hate lying. But these feelings belong to me alone and aren't meant to be shared. "No, I've been focused on my research."

"She dumped The Siren, as Ariana likes to call him."

A wry scoff escapes me. "For how long this time? A day? A week?"

"Nope, we chatted the other day," says Helena. "It's official. She got her own apartment in a new city. Bah-chum? Bow-chum? Something like that."

I'm so shocked that I almost drop my camera. Sylvia hasn't posted that online. Not yet anyway. It doesn't surprise me that a woman as clever as Sylvia would discover the truth, but it does surprise me that she's finally taken the leap and dumped his ass.

Hopefully for good.

To my surprise, my most potent emotion is pride. Yes, I'm genuinely proud she's dumped him. Not because it will change anything between us—eight years is far too late to rekindle the past—but because Sylvia deserves so much more than that steaming pile of garbage.

We've both made mistakes, but I want her to be happy.

"You're joking?" are the only words that slip past my lips.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

No, she does not.

Then again, Helena rarely does.

Her sapphire blue eyes can blast through titanium. She always wears her long blonde waves in a no-nonsense chignon, perfect for any occasion from work to formal social events to hiking up a mountain. She often presses her thin lips into a serious line, giving the impression that she's silently judging you.

And she probably is.

"Earth to Ian Caruso?" she says, waving to get my attention. "I know I'm hot, but keep it in ya pants. It ain't Tuesday or Thursday."

That's when I realize I'm staring. My cheeks grow red-hot before I cast my gaze aside and mutter an apology under my breath.

While we eat lunch, Helena tells me a long, sordid story of Marcus's transgressions over the past five years of Sylvia's marriage, including concrete evidence of lying, cheating, and possible fraud.

Not that I'm surprised.

I might have deep-dived into his online behavior in order to figure out what attracted Sylvia to him. And I might have discovered way more than I bargained for.

The whole time Helena speaks, my heart sizzles like bacon in a frying pan. Why the hell did Sylvia choose him instead of me?

What the fuck did I do wrong?

That's before my rational side kicks in and says, Screw it! Screw her! I've got more important things to worry about. Like tenure.

"Let's discuss your game plan, Ahab." Helena uses the same authoritative tone she reserves for clients and colleagues. "How are you going to hunt your white whale?"

"White whale?"

She gives me an incredulous look.

"Not sure that's the best analogy."

"It's the perfect one." Helena gestures like she's giving a presentation. "You can't live with each other because your lives are on different tracks, and you can't live without each other because you're still in love. Sylvia chews out your heart; you stalk her online. Whenever you both interact, it's either a crisis or fireworks. Ahab, meet your whale."

I scrunch my face in disdain. "I don't stalk her."

"Fine, fine. You check up on her." Helena uses air-quotes. "My bad."

"Only when she posts publicly like any other concerned friend!"

Helena curls her lip.

"Jealous, much?" I tease her.

"Hell no!" My best friend readjusts her backpack, her slender yet defined biceps jumping with the effort. "You can share my joys, dry my tears, and tease my orgasms, but only one woman can win my heart."

"Pithy!" I say with a grin. "Now I'm jealous."

She cackles. "You should be."

For a moment we walk in companionable silence.

"Imagine this as one of your research projects." She cuts the air vertically with her palm. "You need a plan of attack."

Only Helena would use military terms to win over a long-lost love.

"There is no plan."

"Look!" She sighs. "I know you're a Procrastinator 5000, but now's not the time."

"You misunderstand me," I say in a firm tone. "I'm not going after her."

"What?"

"She's on her own this time."

"C'mon, Ace!"

I stop dead in my tracks and meet her fierce gaze with an inner fire of my own. "Hellz, three years I waited! Only for her to marry a filthy flake. Then she worked herself to exhaustion for another five because she preferred that unholy mess to sharing a life with me. I'm so fucking done!"

But who's counting?

"She made that mistake ages ago when you were both young and dumb!"

"Thank you for that ringing endorsement," I say with a deadpan expression. "However, I try to avoid making the same mistakes, expecting a different result."

That's why I've chosen Helena, and it's likely why she's chosen me. Both hurt by the women we love, we got so fed up with the dating scene that we came to a mutual agreement.

Until we found someone we loved, we'd stick with each other.

Yeah, we're an odd couple, but at least we dispense with the bullshit and keep it real. We're best friends by day, plus-ones by night, and lovers at least twice a week. Meanwhile, we share practicalities while offering each other true companionship. And Friday night movies with takeout, obviously.

When you have an unstoppable steamroller who's unflinchingly loyal and unbelievably sexy, what more could you possibly want?

I don't need romance. I don't need a fluffy relationship. And I can damn well ignore my foolish heart, especially when it's wrong.

Right?—Right.

Except when the unstoppable steamroller won't go down with the ship.

"But you still love Sylvia!" She races ahead and stands in my way like a panzer tank. A tall, slender, and graceful one. "For the love of God, rip up our agreement and walk away. No feelings, remember? You can bet your ass I'd do it if Rachel came back to me."

"Only Sylvia hasn't come back to me."

"Not yet." She gives me a playful nudge. "So go after her, Romeo!"

"Right, that's what a newly separated woman dreams of," I say, "her ex coming to the rescue like a knight in shining armor."

Eight years after the fact. When she was the one who ran away.

There was a time when I dreamed of being that knight for her. Not in shining armor, mind you. More like grungy armor covered in rust and dirt while I dealt with demons of my own. But I'd have protected her and loved her no matter what.

That time's passed, though.

Helena purses her lips. "Well, when you phrase it that way—"

"You can see it for the foolish notion it is?" I say before side-stepping her with a purposeful stride. "Glad to hear we're on the same page."

"My offer still stands," she says. "No notice required."

Do I still love Sylvia? Good God, yes! Like I said, I carry her with me wherever I go. But I refuse to open Pandora's Box, especially when she's likely to run away at the first exciting opportunity and leave me behind.

Again!

Love fades, leaving chaos and destruction behind it. It's better to reach a mutual understanding like Helena and I have done, based on rationality and logic, than to capitulate to the whims of emotions and feelings.

That's why I'm ignoring this news and holding onto the one woman who gets me. Let Sylvia solve her own damn problems!

No matter how much I want to message or call her, I will resist. If Sylvia wants to return to me, let her make the first move. After all, she broke off our engagement and married another man. Not me.

Better let sleeping dragons lie.

___

Word count: 2,081
Total word count: 12,036/40,000