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“How was the lesson?” Michelle grins at me, waving at the waiter to come over. “I saw the way you were looking at Blake. Hard to focus with an instructor that hot, isn’t it?”
I can immediately feel myself blush again, and I feel a flicker of panic. If this woman, who’s known me for less than an hour, picked that up, I’m worried about what Vince might have thought—especially after his warning yesterday.
But I haven’t done anything wrong. Nothing that Salvatore can legitimately be angry about. If Vince wants to tattle on me for looking, I’ll be sure to let Salvatore know how I feel about that.
“He said I actually did really well. I managed to stand up and ride a small wave in.”
Melanie whistles. “I don’t think any of us did that well! But we were all too busy staring at him to pay attention, I think.”
Bethany laughs. “There’s so many surfers on the West Coast. The three of us see them all the time.” She motions to herself, Melanie, and Victoria. “But honestly? He’s really up there in the top ten hottest ones I’ve seen. And this whole I don’t care, island life vibe that he has is really hot, too. A lot of the guys out there pretend to be carefree and the type to just ignore rules or whatever, but they actually want to make it to the top and eventually be rich. Everyone out there just wants to get noticed, one way or another.”
“It’s so true.” Victoria lets out a little sigh. “I’m so glad we made that no social media rule for this trip. It’s been so nice not worrying about posting every little thing.” She glances at me. “It’s so exhausting, you know?”
I bite my lip. “I actually don’t have any social media,” I admit. “I never have.”
Michelle lets out a surprised sound. “Well, lucky you. To be fair, I ignore mine most of the time. Being a lawyer means every post on the Internet is a minefield. Wrong person gets ahold of it, twists my words around—there goes being a judge, or any kind of political career. But there’s still that pressure to post every latte and aesthetic breakfast I have, you know?” She laughs. “Or I guess you don’t.”
“It sounds stressful.” Privately, I think it actually sounds kind of fun—the idea of showing off a carefully artistic, curated view of my life to others. But I’m sure it sounds appealing only because I’ve never had a chance to actually do it. I’d probably be exhausted if it was an expectation, the way it seems to be for them.
“It can be.” Bethany pulls out a menu, looking it over as she sips at her water. “But I try to just stick to the parts of it I like. Food influencing can be a lot of fun. It’s Victoria and Melanie that really have to do all that daily nonsense to keep their brand going.”
“Hey.” Michelle taps me on the arm. “Blake made it back.”
I look up, and see him walking in, a tank top and cargo shorts on now, his blond hair still damp and shaggy around his face. I feel a flutter of something that could be anticipation or apprehension, I’m not sure which.
He looks over, scanning the bar as if looking for something—or someone—and stops as soon as he sees me. I feel that flutter again, and see Victoria’s knowing grin.
“Go talk to him.” She smirks at me. “He likes you. He kept looking at you this morning, even with everyone there paying attention to him.”
“Oh shit,” Melanie murmurs. “He’s coming over here.”
Blake walks directly to our table, stopping at the edge of it. “Hey there, ladies. Gia.” He smiles at me, and I can’t miss the way my name is the only one he says. “Can I get you all something to drink? Gia, I can make you what you had yesterday, unless you want to try something new.”
I don’t think I’m imagining the undercurrent in his voice, the insinuation there. His hand is resting on the back of my chair, and I’m very aware of how close he is.
“What you made me yesterday is fine,” I manage, swallowing hard, and I can see the expressions on the others’ faces.
“Oh my god,” Melanie whispers once Blake takes the rest of their drink orders and heads back to the bar. “He’s really into you. You should see if he wants to meet up. Maybe after he gets off of work?—”
She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and I blush.
“It’s just fun to flirt.” I shake my head. “It’s not going anywhere.”
“Why not?” Victoria laughs. “If I wasn’t engaged?—”
Because I’m married. It’s the obvious answer, but it’s one I can’t give—to them, especially. It’ll open up an entire line of questioning that I’m not prepared to fill them in on, and that I don’t want them to know the answers to. I don’t want to explain my life and its strange ins and outs to them. I want to be this version of myself, the one who isn’t tied to the mafia, who can have an innocent flirtation, who has an entire life that I could make up on the spot if I felt like it.
I shrug instead. “I just don’t know if I want to do all of that on my vacation. But who knows?”
Who knows? The question lingers as Blake brings our drinks, hanging around to talk a few minutes more before returning to the bar, and the girls tease me a little bit before turning to other topics of conversation. Could I let it go further? I’m not sure how—I can’t leave the villa without security. I can only imagine the hell that Salvatore would rain down if I tried to sneak off and evade them…especially if something bad happened as a result.
Especially if he found out it was over another man.
But I can’t help but let the fantasy go a little further. If what Salvatore has given me is all my marriage is ever going to be, then why shouldn’t I think about having fun elsewhere? If my marriage bed is going to be cold, then why shouldn’t I find pleasure where I can? That’s what mafia husbands do all the time, after all, and no one stops them. It feels wholly unfair that I’m held to different standards just because I’m a woman.
We order lunch—a platter of different tacos—and sit and chat, ordering a second round of drinks. Each time, Blake brings our drinks personally, standing by my chair while he hands them out. Michelle makes sure to point that out, and I try to brush it off. But it makes me feel shivery, anticipatory, even though I know I can’t act out what I’m thinking.
I can’t add as much to the conversation as I’d like—I can tell that the other women know I’m being cagey. “You must have one of those jobs where you get in trouble just for talking about it,” Victoria says teasingly, and I just smile, letting them believe that. It’s easier than the truth, or saying that I just don’t want to talk about it. But I like hearing about their lives—about the high-powered rat race of being a lawyer that Michelle is so happy to get away from for a week, looking through Bethany’s Instagram profile as she shows me some of the dishes she’s created, or hearing about Victoria’s plans for her wedding. In the space of a couple hours, over fruity drinks and tacos, I hear about an entire world that I know I’ll think about in the future, wondering how their lives are going.
