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.
“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.
“Of course, you don’t. So, is that it? That’s where we’re leaving this?”
She shrugs with her back to me. “Pretty sure we’ve covered the ‘What the fuck is my ex doing in Mexico?’ Relationship statuses, the bullshit pleasantries, which is surprising considering the company,” she fires over her shoulder.
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve finally learned my lesson on that front. At least when it comes to you.”
She tosses her hands up. “I was just trying to have an honest conversation with you, Easton.”
“No, you’re trying to drunkenly confess your regrets, a tactic I’ve always refused to allow you.”
“Of course. Brutal honesty is the best policy.”
“Yeah, it really fucking is,” I spout to her retreating back.
“Damned if I do or don’t with you anyway,” she utters, already a few strides toward the hotel.
I catch myself and stop my footing, calling at her back. “There’s no need to run anymore, Beauty. No one is chasing you.”
She turns on a dime, her eyes glimmering with pain as she sees me standing a good distance away.
“It was good to see you, Natalie. Congratulations.”
Nothing about the hurt shining in her eyes feels like a victory. Nothing, and I wish like hell it did. She swallows the last of a harsh exhale before she turns back toward the hotel. As the distance grows, her words threaten to brand their way into my psyche as I try to rebuke each one.
That’s all they are. Words.
As she enters the bar, Jerod produces the purse she left behind and waves it toward her from where he stands. Without missing a step, she claims it and stalks forward. As she disappears into the lobby, so do my expectations that this vacation—along with the strides I’ve taken in the last few months—are salvageable.
Damn this woman.
“Another shot?” Jerod asks as I plant myself at the bar while trying to get my heart to obey my fucking mind. “Just a beer.”
Always Remember Us This Way
Lady Gaga
Natalie