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“No. The shoes are perfect.” He pulls a white, tropical flower from behind his back. Where did that come from? “May I?” he says, holding the short stem next to my right ear.
I don’t answer, but with my silence, he tucks the stem behind my ear, the flower blooming at my temple. It’s sweet and fragrant and almost makes me forget—
“Rule number one,” I whisper. “You’re breaking rule—”
“That’s right.” His eyes study the flower. They don’t lock on mine. He gives it one more small adjustment, then takes one step back. “Sorry about that.”
I swallow—when I mean to say, you aren’t forgiven!
“You’re beautiful.” Kal’s eyes rove over me.
I blink back to reality and poke my pointer finger into Kal’s chest. He takes one step back. And I find my voice again—my strong voice. “Rule number one, Kal. No touching.”
“Right.” He nods, a very unbelievable nod. A nod that says he knew exactly what he was doing. “I forgot.”
“You did not—” My phone jingles, cutting me off, and I pull it from my handbag. That makes perfect sense, it’s ringing. Why I answer…that is a mystery.
My orderly brain says, ringing phone equals answer call.
And I do.
I answer Kyle—again.
The man will not give up.
He’s going to make certain I end up in an early grave.
“Meg,” he says, not waiting for me to answer. “You’re breaking Carma’s heart. Not to mention letting good tickets go to waste.”
My chest patters with my erratic heartbeat, and my cheeks warm with embarrassment. We have an audience. I don’t want to do this…not right now. Not ever, but especially not now.
“I’m in Hawaii, Kyle. I paid for the tickets. And I’m using them. I don’t know what else to tell you.” I swallow and find Kal in my peripheral.
“You’re not,” Kyle accuses. “You’re just being selfish.”
Kal stands opposite of me, and I dart a quick, uncomfortable glance his way—which he must interpret as a cue to take over the conversation.
He swoops over, standing beside me, and pokes his head into view of the camera. His shoulder brushes mine—breaking rule number one again. “She’s not selfish,” Kal says. “She’s on vacation. And she has a date. So back off, bud.”
“Meg,” Kyle growls, eyes on me.
To which Kal pulls the phone from my hand. He storms through my gate out onto the sand, with me on his heels.
“Hey!” I whisper, reaching for my phone, though it might as well be a mile away in his grasp.
Kal holds the phone out toward the ocean and sand. “Beach!” he practically yells. He points to the never-ending blue sky. “Sun!” Then he turns it back on himself. “Local. She’s here, moron. Now, leave Meg alone.”
And then he hangs up.
I want to yell at him. Rude. And completely inappropriate. And yet I can’t. I am so grateful to not have to talk to Kyle—again. To have someone else back me up when it comes to the infection I call my ex.
“He’s going to call back, isn’t he?” Kal says.
I clamp my teeth onto my bottom lip. “Ah, probably.”
“Do you mind?” He holds my phone closer to his view. “At least for the week?” I watch him tap on my screen once, then twice. He taps one more time and holds the thing back out to me.
I take it and peer down at the small screen. “You blocked him?”
