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“Fine.” She sighs. “Let’s do it. We can even try the truce thing too.”
“Great.”
“Great,” she says. “Bye.”
“Bye—” The phone beeps.
I frown, putting it down.
Guess I can’t expect things to be great right away.
At any rate, I have—I check my phone—five more hours to eat and get ready.
I end up grabbing something to eat at the buffet, where there’s no sign of Wynona. Then, a quick shower, which ends up not being as quick as expected.
She creeps into my thoughts at the most unexpected times—when I’m biting into a slice of cantaloupe at the buffet, while reaching for the shampoo in the shower...
Wonder what Wynona’s doing right now?
I don’t give myself time to answer that question. If I want any hope of keeping this truce intact, then I’m going to have to make damn sure that I don’t cross that line.
But for fuck’s sake, why is it that everything I want seems to be on the other side of it?
By the time I head over to the meeting place at the dock on the far right of the beach, the sun has started to set. Nearby, a beachside restaurant beckons with spicy rumba music and mouthwatering lamb and maki maki aromas.
In the crowd, she’s not hard to spot. My cock hardens as soon as my eyes fall on her.
Trust Wynona not to make this easy on me. That intricately woven black crotchet cover-up she’s wearing barely obscures her toned curves squeezed into a bright red bathing suit.
I head over, forcing my gaze off her ass. Even if it is a hella fine one.
Her paleness looks out of place, and her hair is in two shiny black balls on the sides of her head. Now doesn’t seem like the time to want to kiss her.
“Imagine seeing you here.” She whirls around in a flash, saying the words as she does so.
I blink. She giggles.
“I can smell you, you know,” she takes great pleasure in informing me. “Same body spray.”
I shrug. “Some things never change.”
For some reason, that seems to annoy her, though she just shrugs back, saying, “And some things do.”
Like you, I think but don’t say.
Now that I’m here with her, I can see why what I said last night pissed her off.
There is something different about her. Though I’m fucked if I can put my finger on it. I can’t pinpoint whether it’s the way she carries herself, or the confident note in her speech, or something else.
“Had a good day?” I ask her.
She nods. “I managed to get everything back at home sorted. My Mom’s going to look after my dogs. And my clients for the next week understood too—though a ten-percent discount helped. So that took a load off. Although I couldn’t seem to wake up Josie. She’s out to the world.”
“I’m impressed that you actually went through with it,” I tell her. “Setting up the business, I mean. I remember your making all those cool designs, taking the odd online course or two. But you actually went for it.”
“You weren’t such a terrible drawer yourself,” she reminds me.
I shrug. “We were in a university drawing class. Greyson didn’t want me only taking music classes.”
“I remember,” she says quietly.
I let the subject drop.
Out of all the things to tiptoe around, the class we met in should probably be one of them. Same goes for pretty much anything in our past... the past.
Although I can almost see it now... the black-haired girl who always wore those black studded boots. How I made myself ask her for a pencil that first time. Her purple-lipped smirk when she passed it to me, like she already knew where we were headed, what we’d become.
“Anyway,” she says. “Building up my business was just what I felt like I had to do. Kind of like you and your music.”
She shoots me a searching look, and I just nod.
Just then, the boatman starts loading people onto the boat, so we head on.
There are only a few other guests, so we get the pick of the boat. We choose a spot on the port side, a cubby that would be small enough for two if they sat close.
We sit as far apart as we can while staying in the same booth.
We sit there, her bare leg half an inch from mine. Her eyes are on the horizon. “It’s beautiful. Even if we don’t see any dolphins, this would be worth it.”
The wind plays with her black hair, tosses the glossy strands around. The boatman shouts something to someone, then hits the motor.
The air still carries a hint of grilled lamb.
“I was so caught up in the wedding preparations with Josie, making sure everything was perfect for Sierra, that I didn’t really take a second to enjoy it,” Wynona says, still staring out at the water and beyond.
