He pours his own and taps it with mine, and we both drink.
Taking my eyes off Natalie for a second, I meet his amused gaze as he lifts the bottle in offering. I cut my hand through the air to stop him from pouring another, my mother’s voice screaming in my head about signs and fate and magical nonsense I never believed for myself, until I met the woman currently stumbling through the sand. A woman who landed into my life, seemingly as lost now, as she was then. A woman I heavily pursued—and married—that eventually led me down the narrow path of self-destruction and premature aging.
“Since we’re being honest,” Jerod speaks up. “I’m having a bit of a moment, man. I’m a huge fan.”
“Thanks for that, but my question for you right now is, are you an honorable man?” I ask him, not taking my eyes off Natalie as fear starts to circulate. She’s headed toward the dark, unlit part of the beach. “Because that’s all I care about right now, and I’m willing to do just about anything for you, if you’ll keep what I just told you in confidence.”
“We all signed NDAs before you got here, and I swear to you, I won’t utter a word.”
“You will eventually,” I say, knowing it to be the truth. “Eventually, you’ll tell someone, but can you do me a solid and wait until I leave?”
“Swear it, man.”
“Thank you. Can I ask one more favor?”
“Anything.”
“Can you please dial my room and let my girlfriend know I’ll meet her at the restaurant in an hour, because I’m going to have to go keep my ex-wife from drowning?”
“Is that how you want it worded?”
“Fuck no, throw a shitload of finesse into that and completely leave out the ex-wife part. I’ll break that to her myself, later.” With that, I start stalking after Natalie as she heads straight toward the water.
“Wait, man,” Jerry speaks up, stopping me. “The restaurant closed ten minutes ago, but you can still order room service.”
Knowing it in my gut, I force myself to search for and find an inch-tall digital clock next to Jerry’s register, just as the minutes on the hour tick over.
11:11.
I make it to Natalie just as her toes reach the water. Her skin sun-kissed despite her pale complexion, her wild curls blowing in the breeze. Aside from the lights of the resort a fair distance away, we’re shadowed in darkness by the night sky. A blanket of stars hovers above us, the moon absent. Even so, I can make out her profile, her light blue sarong coverup outlining her frame as the ocean breeze whips it against her.
“I haven’t seen stars like this since our honeymoon. These look so much further out of reach,” she whispers softly over the sounds of the harsh breeze.
While Mom would undoubtedly call this collision an act of fate, I decide the time stamp Stella Crowne deems such a cosmic sign is insignificant when it comes to me. As of tonight, I’m relabeling fate’s definition—hell.
The mere sight of Natalie on this beach already has faint anger simmering beneath while my heart simultaneously threatens to swell familiarly in my chest. With every second that passes, a memory threatens both good and bad. Mostly good, of her, of us. Throat dry, buzz kicking in, I take a long, much-needed drink of her before I stow it away, leaving myself only one thought.
Why?
Why is life so fucking cruel to let me see her like this, if she can’t be mine? If I can no longer be hers. If we weren’t meant for one another in the way I once so adamantly believed—to the point it made me sick.
Fucking why?
“Make plans, and God laughs,” Natalie recites from feet away, answering my question without being aware of it. “I’ve been talking to myself in bumper stickers, memes, slogans, and mottos all day. I’d say it’s appropriate for the present moment, don’t you think?” She glances over at me, her eyes glassy. “God’s probably laughing his ass off right now.”
“You know I’m not going to be able to leave you here. You know that, right?”
“I don’t want to ruin your night, but I don’t want to go to my room—yet. I’m not…I’m not your responsibility, Easton.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” I state firmly.
“Then I’ll text Damon.” She pats down her dress as if her phone will appear. “No phone. Shit, I don’t even have my room key.”
I pull my phone out and unlock it before extending it towards her.
“I don’t know his number,” she frowns, “I’ve known him my whole life. Is that bad?”
“Does anyone know anyone’s number?” I manage a hint of a smile, not feeling an ounce of it.
“206-792-5959,” she recites, her eyes boring into mine before darting them away.
“It hasn’t changed,” I tell her because the number she just sounded off is mine. So, why didn’t she ever fucking use it?
Don’t go there, East. Dead and buried horse.
“But we have. We’ve changed, haven’t we?” She grins over at me. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
“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.”