“Thanks. You too.”
“We’re close to grownups by now, aren’t we? We don’t get to use our age as an excuse for stupid and reckless anymore,” she says in a mournful tone. “I think maybe it’s no longer allowed at twenty-four.”
“Is that so?”
Our eyes connect and hold.
Goddamnit.
“Easton,” she sighs. “I’m okay. Really. I don’t need Damon to get back to my room. Please go,” she swallows, “to her.”
“And what? Pretend I didn’t see you trashed on the fucking beach at the same resort?”
“Precisely,” she answers with a firm dip of her chin.
“I’m going to tell her.”
“As you should,” she says as I try and fail not to memorize the way she looks wrapped in silk, tan skin, her bare feet and polished toes washed in white foam.
“We can switch hotels,” I offer.
She crosses her arms, grips her biceps, and doesn’t respond.
“It’s not a problem,” I try again.
“I’m just…” she smiles, but it’s distant. “Sorry, I’m having a Seattle moment in Mexico.” She turns and stares through me. “In more ways than one.”
Feeling the tequila start to circulate, I bite my tongue and hold it. I’m not giving her an inch. She’s done nothing but pummel me since I gave her permission to.
“My best friends are about to admit they love each other. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”
“Holly and Damon?”
“Yeah. I said they were in so…much love,” she sighs wistfully. “I think I witnessed the true beginning of them today. It was so beautiful to observe.” Her speech is improving slightly. It’s obvious she’s trying hard to sober up. “I got sentimental and drunk, and that’s why I was thinking of us.” She laughs lightly. “I’m still drunk and sentimental. I can’t seem to stop it today, so can you please save me some humiliation and just go back to her?”
“Not yet.”
“Fine,” she sighs and looks right at me, her blue eyes invoking more of the familiar energy.
“I thought I imagined you. Dreamed you up, but you’re really here, aren’t you?”
I nod. “I needed a break.”
“Yeah, me too…as it turns out, I hate breaks. Jesus, Easton…just give me a minute, okay?” She bends and cups water over her bare feet and arms to wake herself up.
Running my fingers through my hair, I scoff at the fact that she thinks this is the only one this is happening to. “You’re not alone in this, you know? It’s fucking uncomfortable for me, too.”
“Really?” She asks, disbelieving. “I would say your particular circumstances give you the upper hand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m alone, and you’re here with Malibu.”
The simmer beneath threatens to boil with her accusation, and I can’t help the bite in my reply. “She’s been a good friend to me, and not that I owe you any explanation, but we met up at one of her gigs when I got back from Europe last month. I didn’t touch her when we were married, nor did I want to. So yeah, we’re together now, but it’s new. And considering I’ve traveled the globe recently and landed here for a break, it’s pretty fucking mind-blowing that you’re standing in front of me in Mexico.”
“Which means you still can’t kiss me, fuck me, or love me,” she utters brokenly between us on the breeze, her eyes closing.
Stunned and feeling stung, I recover quickly. She’s drunk. This is Natalie drunk.
“We were friends once. Best friends…we talked for hours every night. I miss that so much…I miss you.”
“Natalie,” I start as she whips her head toward me.
“Do you get so lost in her, when you fuck her, that you lose all sense of time?”
“What are you doing?” I whisper hoarsely, her words wringing me out as she takes a step toward me, pressing in.
“I’m asking you questions, Easton,” she fires back as if she was ready for this, her violet-blue gaze tearing into me. “Tell me, Easton,” her voice shakes as she poses her next heartrending question. “Are you as close as two people could ever be?”
Soul charred, anger rapidly surfacing, I bite my tongue to the point it hurts.
Her features twist in pain as she grips her dress. “Because we were. We were so close.” A pained sound escapes her as I fight myself to bridge the distance. I’m barely able to process her last words before she digs in again.