The Last Orange Sunset

Mara stood on the balcony of her beachfront hotel room, nursing an orange juice that had gone warm hours ago. Below, the water churned violently, the Atlantic throwing itself against the shore with increasing desperation. The storm was coming.

She shouldn't have come to this wedding. Shouldn't have watched David dance with his new wife, shouldn't have sat through the toast where he called her his oldest friend, as if that word—friend—wasn't the very blade that had carved them apart seven years ago.

A flash of lightning split the sky, illuminating the ocean in momentary brilliance. The first drops of rain began to fall, warm and heavy against her skin. She didn't move.

"You're going to get soaked."

Mara turned. David stood in the doorway, his tie loosened, holding two champagne flutes. The years between them suddenly felt compressed, fragile.

"I'm leaving in the morning," she said. "Early flight."

"Stay." He stepped onto the balcony, handing her a glass. "We never talk anymore. Not really."

"What's there to talk about?" The words came harder than she intended. "You made your choice."

"Did I?" His eyes searched hers. "Or did I just... stop choosing?"

Another lightning strike, closer this time. The thunder followed immediately, rattling the glass doors. The rain intensified now, plastering Mara's dress to her body, washing away the carefully applied makeup, the pretense.

David set down his glass and stepped into the rain with her. "I remember the day we met. You were wearing that ridiculous orange sweater. You said it was your favorite color because it reminded you of sunsets."

"And you said you preferred sunrises. Because they meant beginning, not endings."

"I was wrong." He reached for her hand, his fingers cold and wet. "Endings can be beginnings too."

The water below reflected the storm-torn sky, gray and silver and endless. Mara looked at David—at the lines around his eyes, at the way his wet hair curled against his neck, at the unfamiliar familiarity of him.

"Stay," he said again. "Let's see what the sunrise brings."

Mara finished her warm orange juice and set the glass on the railing. "Just as friends?"

David smiled, and for the first time in seven years, something in her chest unclenched. "Start there. We'll see where it goes."

The rain washed over them both as the storm finally broke.