“So let me get this straight. You have sex with her, then avoid her all day.” He tut-tuts. “I thought Walker was the master of being a shithead after a one-night stand.”
“I’m nothing like him,” I say through gritted teeth, wishing I could be.
At thirty, Walker Spade encapsulates the playboy cliché. He eschewed university in favour of travel and has been doing odd jobs ever since. His favourite, bartending, means he has a never-ending supply of hot women willing to sleep with him. Kai and Walker got the Spade charm. West and I lucked out.
Though Vera hadn’t been immune last night…
The thought of her dismissing what we shared makes me want to punch something, and Kai must see the feral gleam in my eyes because he backs away, holding his hands up.
“I’m only messing with you, bro.”
“I know.”
My anger deflates, replaced by a surprising sadness. I know that anything I started with Vera had an expiration date, and a short one, yet the thought of not seeing her again when she flies out soon… I shouldn’t be this despondent.
I don’t pine for women. Then again, I don’t do romantic picnics either. And I sure as hell don’t make a fool of myself after I’ve already been rejected, but that’s exactly what I’m tempted to do, by talking to her before she boards West’s plane to take her back to the mainland.
“For what it’s worth, I saw her chatting to West while packing up the tools before heading back to her cottage about an hourago. She looked pretty bummed.” Kai points to my face and smirks. “She looked almost as bad as you.”
I glance at my watch. “She’ll be at the airfield by now.”
“I don’t think so.”
I hate the irrational flare of hope that makes my heart thump. “What do you mean?”
“Because West took off ahead of schedule, about ten minutes after talking to Vera.”
Confused, I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us.” Kai thumps me on the back. “So why don’t you go figure it out?”
I barely hear Kai’s words as I’m already jogging towards Vera’s cottage.
12
VERA
Ever since the divorce, I’ve been a cynic.
Before Brent’s betrayal, I teared up at cute kitty videos and old people celebrating diamond anniversaries. And tumbling toddlers never failed to make me smile.
These days, I don’t give a fuck about cats and octogenarians. As for kids, the hurt that I’ll never have any runs deep, and taints every interaction with men. Crazy, because I’ve never been the maternal type, but having the option taken away from me sucks. I haven’t frozen eggs. I haven’t investigated IVF and donor sperm. I haven’t considered fostering. Instead, I allow my silent hatred for the world to fester, so when the teensiest bit of good comes my way, I sabotage it.
That’s what I’d done with Linc, and if anyone doesn’t deserve it, it’s him.
I stayed because of it.
Not for the sex—though that’s a huge attraction, pun intended—but because he’s a nice guy and it’s been years since I felt as cherished as he made me feel last night. I’ll attend the wedding as his date and leave on New Year’s Day.
What’s a few more days in paradise?
The repairs are done, some of my best work. I thrive under deadlines, and the cyclone damage hadn’t been as extensive as first thought. But from the other cottages I inspected, the place could do with a serious revamp. The showers needs re-grouting, plaster needs replacing in some walls that have copped tropical dampness, and every cottage should be repainted with the latest weather-resistant sealants.
I plan on sending Linc a report when I get back to Brisbane, because if I show him what needs to be done, a small part of me is terrified he’ll ask me to stay and do the job.
And I like the thought of that way too much.
I should go in search of Linc and tell him I’ll be his date to the wedding, but I’m in a weird funk. He’ll think I’m nuts, after the way I brushed him off this morning, and I hate having tough conversations. Not that I owe him an explanation, but he’s been lovely to me and I want to leave the island in a few days as friends.
