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.
“Hi,” I say, proud of myself for getting the greeting out without a trace of malice or a hint of the jealousy I feel.
“Hi, Natalie. Nice to meet you.”
“You too, Misty,” I reply, doing my best not to acknowledge she’s built like a supermodel and has the face and hair to match the body. Even her voice is attractive. I’m not allowed to hate her or her hand placement. My bare ring finger is a reminder of that.
“Okay, then, let’s do it,” Easton concedes, his eyes filled with apology for me, the pity in them pushing me closer to DEFCON 1.
We said we would try to be in each other’s lives, even if we were lying, because we both knew it would be hard. If we have any chance of that happening, this is what that chance looks like.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” I say with a shrug. “Why not?”
Misty’s eyes flit between Easton and me as I find myself speaking up to try and ease the crease of worry in her brow. “It really is nice to meet you, Misty,” I manage as a sign of good faith. “It’ll be fun,” I add as Holly and Damon whip their heads between the three of us.
A hint of a smile lifts Easton’s lips, and it’s not the good kind, but a recognizable call of bullshit.
I blame my emboldened speech on the lingering vodka because right now, I’m surprising the hell out of myself. Easton pulls his glasses down between pinched fingers. “Meet you in the lobby in two hours?”
“Perfect.”
Just after we exchange parting words, Easton and Misty retreat, and I lay back into the chair, feeling Holly and Damon’s gazes collide on me. Damon is the first to speak.
“Nat—”
“Listen to me,” I speak up. “Please listen to me,” I beg of them both. “He shut me down last night. I tried, and he cut me to the quick. I know,” my voice quakes with lingering emotion at the remembrance of our exchange and his ice-cold shoulder before I attempt to shove it in a box to unpack back in Texas. “I know what you’re trying to do, but if you really want to be there for me,” I lower my glasses. “Do nothing. No plotting, no scheming, no more crazy best friend Hail Mary’s,” I direct the last part to Damon, “okay?”
They nod in sync, as if they’re watching a lit fuse drawing closer to a bomb.
“I’m okay, I think,” I inhale a calming breath. “It’s weird, but right now, I’m okay. I can handle this.”
“It’s going to be good,” Holly lies, and I dip my chin.
“She’s fucking smoking, Natalie, but she’s not you,” Damon says in an effort to comfort me.
“Yeah, well, I’m not her,” I say, wishing on a shooting star as he guides her by the hand, my hand, back to the other side of the pool.
One
U2
Natalie
“You look beautiful,” Damon says, “really, Nat,” he assures before turning to Holly. “And you, especially.”
“Oh? Why am I special?” Holly asks, pinching her flowing sundress between her fingers, looking like she may curtsy.
This is just getting weird.
“You’ve always been special,” he presses a lingering kiss to her temple. Her eyes fly to mine as he turns toward the lobby, and I give her a wink.
“You really okay with this?” She asks me as Damon offers each of us an elbow, and we take it.
“I mean, my head’s been scrambling to catch up since last night, but yeah, I’m finally evening out. Enough to be civil. But Damon, you’re still going down.”
“You seem okay,” Holly offers, completely unconvinced before gesturing to my sundress. “And you really do look incredible.”
“Thank you.” I glance down at my powder blue halter dress, loving the look of the form-fitting bodice that accentuates my waist before it flows over my hips. My favorite part are the slits, which run clear up to the top of both my thighs. The silky material stops just short of my sandal laces which are tied in a crisscross pattern around my calves.
“If you want to bail,” Holly offers, “I’m game.”
“Holly,” Damon sighs as he pauses in the middle of the corridor, which stops us all. She releases Damon’s elbow and adamantly shakes her head.
“No, this feels wrong, this is wrong. You royally fucked up.” She glances over at me with concern. “Not that you would know anything about it,” she focuses accusing eyes on Damon, “but it really hurts to be in love with someone while forced to watch them hook up with someone else.”
“I would know,” he snaps in defense.
“Right,” she huffs dismissively. “Well then, you should know damn good and well that she shouldn’t have to spend a night hanging out with her gorgeous, world-famous ex-husband and his new girlfriend. What in the hell were you thinking?”
“Jesus,” Damon curses before looking between us apologetically. “I’m sorry, Nat. It was a stupid move. Say the word, and this ends right here.”
I think of my father in that moment and feel the full weight of the burden he’s had to endure himself, and I know a lot of his strength resides within me.
“I’ll be okay. Maybe they’ll make an excuse.”