“Same,” Damon replies, enthusiastically pumping Easton’s hand. “Nice to finally meet my best friend’s ex-husband,” he jokes as I implore God to grant me the ability to laser Damon’s face off with nothing but a pointed stare.
“Would have met you a lot sooner if you, you know, hadn’t secretly met, dated,” Holly draws out bitterly, “eloped and divorced,” she finishes before shifting personalities. “I’m Holly,” she extends her hand to Easton, who takes it with a full-fledged grin. The recognition in his eyes implies he likes them both.
“Heard a lot about you, too, Holly,” Easton delivers expertly before Holly’s pupils begin to heart like a damned cartoon character. I can’t blame her. The sight of him, and with as disarming as he is, it’s easy to see the shiny. For me, he’s all shine.
“Well, you know our girl,” Damon chuckles, playing diplomat, “go big or go home.”
“Go home,” I mutter under my breath during a few words of mixed chatter. “Now, there’s a fine idea.”
Easton turns his attention back to me, his eyes signifying he didn’t miss it. “So, you good?”
“Perfect, thanks for checking on me. I was really drunk.” I lift my sunglasses as his return stare hardens, keeping me from going further in trying to play off a single word I said. Because he’s still Easton, and he’ll never settle for anything less than brutal honesty. Nostrils flaring in irritation, his words from our honeymoon ring through as they have for endless months.
“Don’t ever hide from me. We’re as close as two people could ever be.”
My lungs decide in that moment that breath is no longer necessary as another bolt of lightning sears my chest. Desperate, I grapple with the feel, refuting the threatening sting in my eyes which are no longer concealed.
I. Hate. Mexico!
I couldn’t forget a single minute of him if I wanted to, and I’m almost positive I can remember every word we’ve ever exchanged. My cursed brain can’t even seem to short circuit a single recollection of my time with him, even after drinking my weight in tequila. Holly and Damon chat Easton up, and he converses with an easy timbre. When Easton goes still mid-chatter, I pause, shielding my eyes with my hand to see he’s focused on the gold chain secured around my waist. His flaring jades remain fixed on the glittering reminder for a few soul-stealing seconds before darting away. Freshly charred, I avert my own gaze, smoke no one else can see billowing from me as Damon speaks up. Tuning them out, I peruse Easton’s ribs, littered with more tattoos I don’t recognize, before finding the one I do. My heart swells as I visually trace the Chihuly design, which stands out easily amongst the others as I summarize our short love story with my thoughts.
Once upon a time, Elliot Easton Crowne was mine. He was mine, and we were as close as two people could ever be.
“Sorry, where?” Easton asks, diving back into the conversation as a splash sounds nearby in the pool.
“We’re going on one of the excursions the hotel offered. I had to reserve the whole thing, and it’s for six. You’re welcome to join us,” Damon offers, flashing me a subtle smirk that screams payback is a bitch. Instead of clawing his eyes out, I turn in my lounger and slap my bottle of sunblock in his hand. “Get my back, would you? My shoulders are burning.”
“I’ll have to check with Misty,” Easton hedges, “but I think we’re—”
“We’re what, babe?” Her voice chimes in, just as I turn my back, saving myself a few more seconds from the meet and greet, which is inevitable.
Damon leans in, massaging the lotion into my shoulders exaggeratedly. While he’s within earshot and as Holly introduces herself, I take my window to utter my threat. “Make sure to take a good look at the view today, Damon, because it’s your last,” I hiss from between my teeth, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
The widening of his eyes, followed by his swallow, has me convinced he’s taking my threat seriously as I give him crazy eyes to relay the rest.
Thanks for volunteering, bestie. I’ll be taking every bit of this jacked situation out on you.
“Sounds fun,” Misty says with a notable amount of hesitation in her tone.
Pulling up my big girl panties, I turn and get my first look at my replacement. A dazzling, dripping wet replacement who’s got her hands folded on Easton’s shoulder. I mentally note her posture is natural—intimate—before I flick my eyes to hers.