“I know how I got to Seattle, Easton. But how the hell are you in Mexico right now?”
Anger replaces some of the devastation in her tone, but it’s not directed at me. It’s because of the fucked-up circumstances we can’t seem to escape when we collide in every universe. “I’m getting so tired of repeating their history.”
“Well, it’s not ours,” I say, dead set on the same stance I’ve kept since I signed the papers.
“No, it’s not,” she agrees easily, wiping her tears. “Not at all, and the way Stella romanticized these run-ins is fucking cruel, no matter how many times I hoped for it to happen. But the way this feels…Jesus,” her voice cracks. “I would give anything to make it stop.”
Her words strike deeper as I fight myself again and win, again.
She steps toward me, her scent floating through the breeze—orchids with a hint of something spicy mixed in. A minute ticks by, maybe two, as I get lost in the sight of her, my weakness threatening. But I keep my distance because I know a sip of her is lethally addicting for me. I refuse to go down this path again, alone.
“You’re a supernova,” she murmurs. “I thought it the first time you sang for me in Seattle, and it’s what I thought the night we locked ourselves in that Dallas hotel while we were falling in love, making love. I knew I caught one and told myself to hold onto you with everything in me. I told myself to hold on, even back then, because I knew it was going to be impossible. I was right.” She looks up to the sky as if searching for an alternate star, a tear traveling a slow path down her cheek. “You should know—you need to know—you were just as sacred to me, even if I didn’t prove it when you demanded it of me.” Her confessions slap me, as does the wind, while the bolts keeping my heart on lockdown threaten to come loose.
Fuck no.
“If you weren’t wasted,” I reply dryly, unable to stop the acid from seeping into my tone. “This would probably mean a lot to me.”
“It’s the truth,” she pierces me with her damning violet blues. “But too little, too late, right?”
“Something like that.”
“Something like that?”
“Exactly like that,” I slide my fists into my shorts.
“Well then, we best tuck me away, right?” She clears her throat, seeming to gather herself. “You know I’ve been watching your progress, Easton. Of course I have, and I’m so unbelievably happy for you. You deserve all your success. Truly. It’s been incredible to witness.”
“Thank you, and you got your paper,” I say.
Her eyes dim, and she nods, going quiet for a few seconds.
“I earned it,” she states without a hint of offense before sweeping me from head to feet. “Okay,” she nods in some sort of affirmation before clearing her cheeks with the sides of her palms. “Well, fuck today, and fuck Mexico,” she laughs, but it’s full of pain, and I see the trail of her tears clearly as she stops in front of me. More tears than I realized she was shedding.
“Natalie—” I start again, unsure of what the hell I’ll finish with. I’m still reeling from words I prayed to hear for months and months and never got. Nothing close to the guttural admissions she’s been spewing at me since I got here.
And what the fuck exactly is this?
Another crossroads she’s going to stomp on my heart to step through?
Fuck that.
Stay done, Easton.
“It’s okay, Easton. I’ll make myself scarce.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, trailing her as she heads toward the resort, far steadier on her feet.
“Oh, yes, I do,” she replies before turning back and stalking forward until she’s inches from me. “But I’ll be damned if I waste another chance to say the things I didn’t say to you the night you divorced me.”
“Don’t. What’s the point? We’ve already had this talk.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call or keep the promise to try and be in each other’s lives, but it was always going to feel like a lie for me because this feels every bit like reentering hell. Maybe…” she exhales, “maybe I just need to get used to the temperature.”
I scoff. “This is unbelievable. You sure have a lot to fucking say for someone who’s memorized my number and never once used it.”
“You didn’t call, either,” she fires back. “Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t want to fight.” Gripping her wrap, she brushes past me.