Reverse (The Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

Holly paces in front of me as I sip my Bloody Mary, deciding it’s as close to drinking tequila as I’m ever going to get again. The last time I drank tequila, my ex-husband showed up on my Mexication with his beautiful new girlfriend waiting for him—probably naked—when he got back to his hotel room. And by last time, I mean—last night. I woke up today in full-fledged denial, praying I dreamt it, until Damon came to me with a fistful of options. In one hand, a coffee, in the other, a Bloody Mary. Option two has been good to me.

“What are the odds, Nat? What are the fucking odds!?” Holly says as I mentally plot my next few days in paradise.

“Chill out. I’m working on a new itinerary. Today is vodka, tomorrow rum. Oh,” I exclaim, “let’s have a schnapps day!”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m painfully aware of that. Please stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy,” I whine as I take a hard pull of the cocktail. Holly kneels in front of me, placing her hands on my terry cloth-covered knees. At least my wardrobe is sorted. It will remain my staple uniform as I live in my hotel room for the next three days charging away my sobriety drink by drink. Thankfully with my new salary, I can afford it.

“You can’t hide in here,” Holly reasons.

“Watch me make a liar out of you. Let’s change the subject. Can we talk about last night?” I beg. “Please. What happened with Damon?”

“Nothing to report. We had a quiet dinner, followed closely by quiet drinks. His wingman skills are nonexistent. He’s in a weird headspace. The bars were scarce, so sadly, I danced by myself for an hour until I managed to hook a hottie on the floor. The cockblocker immediately claimed I was drunk and whisked me back to my room. Something’s wrong with him, and he won’t tell me what.” Her eyes implore mine. “Do you know what’s wrong?”

“No idea,” I lie.

“Well, he’s going to come clean to me, or we’re going to fight.”

I have a feeling it’s going to be a damn good one. I fish my bacon olive breakfast off my shiny, yellow cocktail sword and begin devouring it as she snatches the drink away from me.

“Get dressed immediately. Poolside, now.”

“No.”

Ignoring me, she tosses a glittering, emerald bikini my way. “You’ve finally got six abs. The world deserves to know.”

“No.”

She plucks the golden chain I brought off my dresser full of accessories and tosses it on the bed next to the bikini, completely unaware of the piece of the past she just added to her demands. “Put it on.”

Staring at the chain, a clear memory surfaces of Easton running a worshipful finger along it as I slowly rode him. Lush red lips parted, he looked up at me with a loved-soaked expression. He loved me, even then. In hindsight, I think he loved me before I left Seattle, as I did him.

“Natalie, this is something you can’t pass on—an opportunity.”

“To watch my ex-husband frolic with his new girlfriend on a Mexican beach? I’m good here.”

“Jesus, you know I don’t say this often, but you disappoint me. He married you. Married you, Natalie. If you’ve got anything, you’ve got that. Now find your pride somewhere in the self-pity closet you’re hiding in and get dressed.”

When I don’t budge, Holly digs her heels in, arms crossed. “You still love him. This could be your last chance.”

“My last chance was the day he signed the divorce papers.”

“What?”

“Hindsight is a bitch, my friend—and I hate her. Loathe her,” I say, swiping my drink back. “Despise, detest—dislike very strongly,” I giggle. “See? I’m perfectly capable of speaking. Easton’s always been the reason behind my damn impediment.”

“Get up!” She orders, prying the drink from my hand before walking over to the toilet and dumping it.

“No good can come of this,” I grumble, grabbing the bikini and chain before pushing her out of the bathroom and slamming the door in her smiling face.




“You’re going to burn in hell for this,” I grit out to Holly when Easton appears with Misty at his side, who looks ravishing in a gold bikini. Holly’s eyes bulge as she tries and fails to school her expression.

“Jesus, that bikini is so tacky,” she lies through her teeth.

“Please don’t,” I say. “I’ll hate you more for lying.”

She shrugs, mimosa in hand. “I mean, she’s not ugly.”

I lower my shades so Holly can clearly read my warning. Easton scouts the pool while Misty lays a towel on an oversized lounger. I sense it the minute his eyes find me and push my glasses back up. I made a fool out of myself last night—and I was okay with that—but he wasn’t at all receptive, and that’s the hardest pill to swallow. The imprint on that particular pill—he’s moved on.

“He’s looking.”

“Shut up and don’t look back.”

In a gift of divine intervention, Damon appears, blocking my view before taking a seat on the edge of my lounger. My small victory is cut short when he speaks up. “Oh, damn, I see I’ve arrived in time for the show.”

“Shut up,” I snap. “Both of you, this isn’t funny. At all.”

“Well, you’ve got us,” Damon offers, “and because you do, I’ve taken the liberty of signing us up for an outing.”

“Thank God,” I exhale. “I don’t give a shit what it is. Sign us up for every damned excursion.”

“Don’t do that,” Holly warns Damon. “And where are we going?”

He grins wickedly. “It’s a surprise.”

“But this is a touristy thing, right?” Holly wrinkles her nose. “It’s going to be boring.”

“So what, is there a bar?” I ask, my only condition.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be hooked up, lush,” Damon assures.

“Hey,” I hear uttered in a soft greeting. My body jerks to attention when Easton appears over Damon’s shoulder. Holly bolts upright in her lounger as Damon turns to look up at Easton. They both stare at him, temporarily starstruck, and I vow to disown them both as soon as we touch back down on Texas soil.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I just came over to check on you, see how your head’s doing.” Easton stands there, glowing beneath the sun that only highlights his perfection, his board shorts hanging on for dear life below the deep muscles of his hips. Holly’s tongue begins to roll out of her mouth as Damon and I speak up simultaneously.

“She’s a shit drunk—” Damon starts.

“—it’s still attached,” I fake a smile, tapping my temple.

“Sure about that?” Easton replies with a smirk.

“Well, today’s only Thursday, and the wind is blowing, so we’ll keep you updated,” Damon digs as I resist clawing at his flawless skin.

Easton’s gaze lingers on me before he lowers it to address Damon. “Easton,” he says, extending his hand to Damon, who accepts it. “Heard a lot of good things about you, man.”

“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.

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