Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

answer.
My eyebrows furrow. “What? No, I’m not bankrupt. I have enough
money in my personal savings to not ever have to work again.”
“Brag,” she says, laughing softly to herself. “So, what happened to the
cash you were so desperate to give me? Tired of me not letting you solve all
my problems?”
I shrug, picking at a piece of chipped clear coat on the glass table.
“Maybe I realized you were right about my control issues, and decided to
work on them.”
She laughs again, this time louder. “Kal, no offense, but you were
practically stalking me for the last six years. I don’t feel like you’re the kind
of guy who just... turns over a new leaf when someone points out a flaw.”
Her words dig at the empty valley in my chest, razed after a tornado,
waiting for something to grow in the place of my love for Elena. I tap my
fingers on my knee, humming as the familiar itch to go and bring her home
renews itself inside me.
“Some people are worth trying for.”
Violet’s lips twist, and she slides her gaze away, observing the pile of soil
that was supposed to be Elena’s garden. “What’s with the dirt?”
“My wife—Elena—tried planting a garden, but clearly her greenhouse
abilities are sorely lacking.”
“Hm. Yeah, I don’t think they’re supposed to be so... brown in the
summer.”
I grunt noncommittally, staring out at the sun setting over the beach.
“I met her, you know.” She glances back at me, brushing some hair from
her eyes. “Your wife. She seemed... interesting. Beautiful, but a strange
match for you, I feel. Based on pretty much nothing but your appearance and
rumors, of course.”
Smirking, I nod once. “You’re not wrong about that.”
We sit in companionable silence for a few beats, before finally, it gets to
be too much, even for me. “What are you still doing on the island, Violet?”
Her fingers curl around the sunflower pendant hanging from her neck,
and she sighs. “To be honest, I have no clue. I think that’s why I came to find
you today, because every time I leave, I find myself coming back and
standing in front of your stupid bar, wanting to go in and talk to you.”
“You fly to Aplana often?”
She blushes. “My best friend’s parents have a lot of frequent flier miles,