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I rub a hand over the back of my neck. Gah. The fantasies I weave about that colorful array of vibes.
The ache in my chest is worse than usual tonight.
Katherine was the first person I told about my desire to get out of the city. To travel. To not take up the mantle in the family companies. And she supported me wholeheartedly. She has never once questioned my desire to live on a boat and work odd jobs in foreign countries.
She’s so unlike anyone I’ve ever met. A unique combination of dutiful and rebellious. It’s no wonder she lives in my head rent-free.
And now, her mother signed her up for that silly auction. It’s not that the charity is silly; it’s just... Katherine doesn’t like the limelight like her mother does. She’d rather be at home with her jungle of plants, drinking wine with friends.
I turn, lining up the bottles, and toss an errant bottle cap.
“When—when did you see her last?”
I swallow. Six months, nineteen days. But who’s counting. “Too long.”
Marko nods. I glance out at the beach. The water shimmers in the darkness. Croatia is beyond beautiful, but like all the other places I’ve traveled the last five years, it doesn’t feel like home. Twelve countries, dozens of cities, and I still don’t get that feeling.
Most days, I can ignore that fact.
Something’s missing.
Most days, I can lie to myself and believe that the something is not a someone.
Most days, Katherine isn’t going to auction herself off to the highest bidder.
Marko reaches into the cooler and pulls out two long necks. “Come.” He nods toward the beach.
I grab my phone again. No new texts. Disappointment makes my limbs heavy as I follow my boss through the labyrinth of chairs and tables. We cross the path that runs along the front of the bar, connecting all the seaside businesses.
When we reach the sand, he twists off the caps and hands me one. This is what I love about my travels and Marko specifically. There are still places in the world where people slow down enough to get to know their neighbors. A beer on the beach after closing time? Totally the norm.
I should ask after Marko’s girlfriend, but my mouth feels as dry as the sand beneath my feet. I take a long swig of my beer, relishing the coolness in my throat. He finds a spot to sit.
“What is the trouble?” he asks as I settle next to him, draping my forearms around my knees.
A steady cross breeze brings the scents of salt, lemon and grilled fish from up the beach.
“She’s taking part in a bachelorette auction.”
“What is—bachelorette auction?”
“Women raise money for charity by offering a date. To the highest bidder.”
It takes a few seconds, but Marko makes a contemplative sound. And damn,
if that’s not the same sound that’s been humming through my veins for the last twenty minutes.
“For charity?” he confirms.
“Yeah.” I forget which charity is the beneficiary of this specific auction. She might not have even said when she’d mentioned the event a few weeks back.
“You are jealous?”
“No, I just—” I take a deep breath and then another long sip of the beer. There are too many emotions rolling through me to pick one. “I look out for her. Old habit. Besides, she hasn’t even gone on the date yet. How could I be jealous?”
I’m babbling, but Marko doesn’t seem to mind.
“You are jealous that her attention will be elsewhere.”
