The Last Day of July

The cable guy had been in the apartment for three hours. Sarah watched him work from the kitchen doorway, nursing her third iced coffee of the day. The vitamin D supplements on the counter caught the afternoon light—a daily reminder of how little she saw the sun anymore. Working remote had seemed like freedom two years ago. Now it felt like a sentence.

"All set," the technician said, gesturing to the modem's blinking lights. "You should have blazing speeds now."

She thanked him and locked the door behind him, the dead bolt sliding home with that satisfying finality that made her feel both safe and trapped.

Her phone buzzed. Marcus: *Pool tonight? 8pm?*

Sarah hesitated. Marcus had been her friend since college, but lately their friendship had developed edges she couldn't quite name. Late-night drinks that lasted until 2 AM. The way his thumb had brushed her wrist last week when he passed her a glass of wine. The sudden intensity in his eyes when she mentioned dating again, six months after Tom left.

She typed back: *See you there.*

The apartment complex pool was empty at eight. The water reflected the halogen security lights—black glass rippling with gold. Sarah found Marcus sitting on the edge, legs in the water up to his calves.

"You're here," he said, and something in his voice made her chest tighten.

"Where else would I be?"

He shrugged. The movement pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders. He'd been working out. She'd noticed that too.

They sat in silence for a minute. The hum of the pool pump filled the space between them.

"Tom called yesterday," Marcus said.

Sarah's stomach dropped. "Oh?"

"Wanted to know if you'd met anyone." Marcus turned to face her. "I told him no. Was that the right answer?"

She should have laughed it off. Made a joke. Instead she heard herself say, "What answer do you want to give?"

The air between them changed—charged, heavy, dangerous. Marcus stood up, water dripping from his calves, and reached for her hand.

"The truth," he said. "That I've been in love with you for three years, and the only reason I never said anything was because Tom was my friend too."

Sarah stared at him. The pool lights cast strange shadows across his face. She thought about vitamins and work-from-home isolation and cable modems and all the small distractions she'd arranged around herself like a fortress.

"I can't bear this," she whispered.

"What?"

"Not knowing." She pulled her hand from his but didn't step away. "Say it again."

Marcus smiled—it transformed his whole face. "I love you. I've loved you since that summer we shared that terrible apartment with the broken AC. I loved you when you married Tom. I loved you when you called me crying last Christmas. I'm not going to stop."

The pool pump hummed on. Sarah stepped closer and kissed him, and his arms came around her like he'd been waiting forever for this moment.

The vitamin supplements sat on her counter at home. The cable modem blinked its lights. None of it mattered. Not tonight.