Page 71 of A Newport Christmess

Then, I found Landon’s.

I could watch this all day.

My heart pattered about recklessly in my chest. I clicked on his name and saw that he had zero followers and one account he followed—mine. A smile burst onto my lips. He really had created an account for me. Not that I expected it to remain like that, especially once Nikki discovered he’d ended his social-media fast, but for a moment, I was the sole reason he was on there. The contrast to Cody seemed stark. Cody had set up an account years ago, but until he’d left me, he’d never really used it. Now, in the past year, his feed was full of selfies and images of him with beautiful women. And apparently a new girlfriend. One I hadn’t even seen yet.

That familiar itch in my finger urged me to look at Cody’s account.

I dropped the phone. It had been two or three months since I’d last peeked. There was no point in ruining the streak now. No good would come of it.

Except, maybe if I looked, it wouldn’t affect me like it did before I’d met Landon. My heart seemed to be relinquishing the grasp Cody had on it, so maybe I was finally ready to move on, and this could be the test to prove it to myself. Resolved and feeling confident in my resolution, I typed in Cody’s handle.

When his feed filled my screen, my heart sank, and I instantly knew I’d failed the test. A big, fat F-minus. Cody’s new girlfriend was stunning, her crop-top shirts fitting her like nothing had ever fit me before. Her long, tanned legs went on for miles, and her curves were in all the right places. But I was a glutton for punishment, and I clicked on her linked profile. Though Cody was more of a cameo on her feed than she was on his, her most recent post had an image of the two of them wrapped around each other. The caption read: Can’t wait to spend Christmas in the Caribbean with this hunk of mine.

A wave of shock surged through me, gutting me to my core. Cody was going to the Caribbean with some girl he’d only been dating for a month or two at most? I couldn’t draw a breath. This had been a bad idea. A really bad idea. I turned off the phone and tossed it on the bed, trying to calm myself through my downward spiral. Cody and Ms. Legs would be in the Caribbean together exactly a year after he’d walked out on me. Would they be sharing a room? A bed? The thought made me physically sick. Then hurt. Then angry.

I grabbed my phone and opened up Instagram. Creating a new post, I scrolled through the pictures Landon had sent of the two of us together until I found my favorite—the one where Landon looked at me like a love-stricken Odysseus—and I posted it to my account with the caption: Sometimes the bumpiest roads lead us to the most exquisite places.

It was poetic and beautiful. And written entirely out of spite.

SEVENTEEN

QUINN

I’d nearly forgotten my poor, late-night posting decision until I took my phone off silent mode the next morning. Notifications chimed like it was about to detonate. Missed voicemails. Missed texts. Loads of social media alerts.

Curse words. I usually dealt with my bouts of insecurity with a good cry session and sleeping in until noon, not posting a revenge picture on Instagram for tens of thousands of people to see. I covered my face with my hands. What had I been thinking posting that?

Before I could form a reasonable answer, my phone rang.

Mom.

No. No. No. I dismissed it and went into the bathroom. But the fourth time it rang, I realized avoidance probably wasn’t the correct coping mechanism.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, Mom? That’s all you’re going to say? Not, I posted a picture on social media with a guy that I forgot to tell you about?”

My chest tightened, like a heavy weight pressed against it. “I told you about him. It’s Landon. The owner of the house.”

“That’s who’s in the picture? The Christmas tree landlord?” Quick bursts of air from Mom’s stress-breathing vibrated through the speaker. “Are you two dating?”

I shifted. “Yes, but it’s super new. Like, last-night new.”

“Then what are you doing posting pictures of you together, Quinn? Do you know how many calls and texts I’ve gotten this morning? And it’s only eight here.”

I glanced at the clock. It was already eleven here? Apparently, I’d nearly gotten the sleeping-till-noon portion of my self-pity reaction correct. Too bad I didn’t have time for it. “Mom, I’m a grown woman,” I said, trying to tap into Ashlee’s confidence in me.

“Why are you acting like a child, then? A reasonable adult doesn’t post pictures of themself with some man before they have the decency to explain to their family who he is.”

Mom’s words were a perfectly placed knife. Not only because I’d not told them about Landon, but because I had been acting like a child—or, at best, an immature adult. I’d posted that picture because I was hurting. Because I wanted to hurt Cody. Instead, I’d caused some kind of extended-family drama and possibly undermined any credibility in my feelings for Landon. It had been a stupid choice.

Mom released a long sigh. “Please, from now on, talk to us before you share news like that with the entire world.”

I bit at the inside of my cheek, feeling every bit the scolded child. “I will.”

“So besides Landon being Nikki Aker’s brother and your current downstairs neighbor ...” She paused. “He is still sleeping downstairs, right?”

“Of course.” At least until he moved upstairs tomorrow, but that was different. There’d be a houseful of guys sharing the space with us.