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He assumed he knew all there was to know about me.

He said he loved me, but he didn't. He couldn't.

He barely knew me.

He thought I loved the ocean for all the usual reasons—the surf, the sand, the chance to frolic in a bikini.

And, yes, I love the surf, I love the sand, I look great in a bikini.

But that's only part of the appeal.

The Kate Chopin of it all—

He never got that.

Maybe men just can't. Maybe men can't understand what it means to be a woman in the world, even one without a husband or children.

The expectations are still there.

They're still heavy.

And the promise of freedom—

It's enticing.

I'm sure there are things I didn't understand about him, things I don't understand about being a man.

But I never pretended.

I hid.

That's different.

And now, I'm here, trying to dive back into my body, worried I won't do it right.

Because I might fall for this guy.

Because I might screw him up.

Because, maybe, I want to screw him up.

And, maybe, just maybe, I'm a bad role model, again. Maybe the people I love are the same as me—

Weighed down by my expectations for them.

Hiding behind them.

Hiding the places they hurt.

I want to be brave, to lead by example.

But I'm not even brave enough to ask. To look. To see.

And that's the thing—

My ex was right.

I want everything this guy has to offer. For my body, anyway. If I risk my heart, I risk it.


Tags: Crystal Kaswell Romance