But first, I needed a drink. One that would hopefully dull the images and emotions coursing through me right now.
I’d seen a little beach bar earlier when we went snorkeling, so that was where I headed. I knew there were plenty of places to get a drink inside the hotel, but I wasn’t stepping foot in there. Especially not with what I knew was about to happen, if not already happening, eight floors up.
As I stormed across the grounds, I couldn’t let myself think about her. Every time an image of her flashed into my mind, I set a match to it. Every time I remembered the sounds I’d driven from her or the way her hands felt moving across me or the way her eyes had looked into mine while I moved above her, I doused them in imaginary kerosene and set fire to each and every one.
I’d wasted years waiting for her. Decades. I wasn’t about to waste one more fucking minute of my life on someone who didn’t give a damn about me.
The bar was fairly quiet when I got there. Only one couple, who looked like locals, was pressed against each other as they sipped on their beers. The bartender took one look at my face and immediately lined up a few bottles on the counter. I pointed at the first one in the lineup, not knowing what it was and not giving a shit either.
“How do you want it?” the bartender asked as he put back the other bottles.
“In a glass,” I said, sliding onto the first stool I came to.
The bartender nodded like he understood, reaching for a glass and pouring whatever brand of poison I’d pointed at. I wasn’t sure. I’d never been a big drinker—my twin had more than made up for my restraint in that area.
Of course, after watching him turn to the bottle whenever life got tough, I should have known better than to do the same when my own life got fucking destroyed, but I’d played nice my whole life and look where it had gotten me. Nowhere. The good guy hadn’t gotten the girl, so to hell with that.
The moment I lifted the glass to my lips, I cringed from the fumes alone. I guessed this wasn’t the type of drink a person sipped and enjoyed—better to just get it down so it could get me good and drunk.
Tipping my head back, I drained the glass in one long swallow. My throat felt like it was on fire and my tongue felt like the top layer of skin had been boiled off, but I could already feel the drink’s warmth spreading into my veins. But just in case . . .
“I’ll have one more,” I said, setting the glass on the lacquered wood counter.
The bartender gave me a look that read Do you need to talk? I answered with one hard shake of my head.
No, I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to drink. I wanted to get shit-faced so I could forget about her for one damn hour of my life.
I was just about to lift my second glass of battery acid to my lips when I noticed someone slide onto a stool a couple down from me. It was a woman, but it wasn’t the woman, so I kept my focus on my drink. That was the way it had always been—Cora, and everyone else. I’d been so consumed by her, I’d failed to notice anyone else. What if, because of my fixation, I’d let the right one slip away? What if I’d let a whole stream of right ones get away, all because I’d been consumed by the wrong one?
That thought made the second drink go down easier. And quicker.
“If it wasn’t for that look of remorse in your eyes, I would have thought you were Jacob after watching you take down that liter of vodka.”
Her voice was familiar, but it wasn’t a voice I was expecting to hear right now, on this island, feet away from where I was attempting to drink myself into a stupor. Twisting on my stool, I had to blink a couple of times to make sure I was really seeing who I thought I was. The booze was already messing with my senses, making my head feel like it was stuffed with cotton.
“Maggie?” My forehead creased. “Is that you?”
The woman sitting two stools over gave me a look that suggested I was a moron—which I supposed was dead-on. “No. It’s me, the Ghost of Maggie Future.”
Huffing, I slid my empty glass toward the bartender again. “Now I know you’re you. Nobody can make me feel like a bigger idiot than Maggie Stevenson.”
“Really? After the past two days, it seems like you’ve taken over that role.”
When the bartender wasn’t as quick to fill my glass this time, I lifted it and shook it a few times, trying to catch his attention. He was a little distracted by a pair of brunettes who had just slid up to the bar in dresses that were pretty much a second skin.
“You can’t make an idiot out of someone when they’re already one. And that’s been my birthright from the very start. Sorry.”
Since the bartender didn’t look like he was going to be making his way over here any time soon, I leaned over the counter, grabbed the bottle, and attempted to pour it into my glass.
Maggie huffed when she watched me spill more of the vodka onto the bar than into my actual glass. “I think you hit your limit one and a half glasses ago. Slow down.”
My head shook as I kept pouring. “My limit tonight is when I pass out. After that, you have my word I’ll stop drinking.”
“Something to look forward to,” she muttered.
“By the way, what in the hell are you doing here?” Instead of setting the bottle back behind the counter, I kept it in arm’s reach. For when I needed a refill. Or five.
“Ah, I was wondering when you might get around to wondering that.” Maggie’s eyebrow lifted as she slid a few curls behind her ear. “Imagine my surprise when I heard you didn’t make it to your brother’s wedding because you’d gotten food poisoning, but when I showed up at your condo later that night to see if you needed anything, you weren’t there. Imagine my surprise again when I later found out that your twin brother finally showed up for his wedding eighteen hours late?” Maggie’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs, her eyes accusing me. “After that, it didn’t take long for me to put the tiny, illicit pieces together.”
Swirling the drink around in my hand, I tried not to think back on anything that had happened over the past day and a half. “And you flew down here to what? Kick my ass?”
Her leg lifted behind me, doing just that. “Now that that’s done, I’m here to provide as little or as much moral support as you need. I hear that’s what good friends are supposed to do for each other.”
“Thanks. Friend.” I managed a smile, nudging her. “So you know what happened. That at least saves me the time of explaining it.”
“I don’t think so, chief. Nice try though.” Copying my style, Maggie leaned over the bar and snagged a beer bottle. “I might know what you did, but I don’t have a damn clue why you did it. So make like a good book and open up already.”