Hearing her name almost makes me gag, but at the same time, hearing the news of their separation sparks something in my chest. It also explains why he’s been calling so much.
I drop my head in my hand. Jesus, I’m a fucking mess.
“Great,” I say. “I’m officially the cause of a broken relationship.”
“That’s one way to look at it. Or that he wants you back enough to leave her.”
I wonder for a moment how I ever found Mason attractive. “It doesn’t matter. He lied to me. And I lied to everyone else. I can’t believe you’re pushing me to do this. A few weeks ago, you were worried about me.”
“That was before I heard his side of the story,” she says. “I was wrong. What you guys had was romantic. He could be your OTP.”
“OTP?”
“You know, One True Pairing? Like Romeo and Juliet?”
“You realize they both died. But you’re right, I was happy,” I tell her. “And it was doomed. Him breaking up with his girlfriend doesn’t make it any better. Really, it just makes it worse.”
“You have a week, Summer. He’s kept your name on the list so you can still go with us.”
I’m trying to formulate a response to this when I see Justin’s Jeep pull down the gravel drive to our camper. At second glance I see it’s not him inside, but Whit. He jumps out and my heart thuds at the sweet, sexy smile he shoots in my direction. My heart reacts to seeing him with more than a spark; it kicks into gear. “Catherine, I need to go.”
“Okay, but think about it—promise me.”
“I…” Whit looks good this morning. His shaggy hair is messy and cute. I hold up my hand to him, to let him know I need a minute.
“Think about it.”
“Fine, I’ll think about it—I really need to go,” I say to get her off the phone. I disconnect and stash the phone in my pocket. My heart pounds in that crushy kind of way and in that keeping-a-secret kind of way. Both equally dangerous.
“Hi,” Whit says, walking under the shady canopy. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just talking to my friend from school. She’s about to go on this big trip to France and thinks I need to know every detail.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“So I have the day off,” he tells me and catches my hand in his.
“Oh, really? Strange, I have the day off, too,” I laugh.
“I thought you might. Want to spend it with me?”
He’s charming and handsome and my hand feels perfect in his. France? Who needs France? I squeeze his hand and say, “Yep.”
“Remindme next time to find out what we’re doing before I agree.” I’m knee-deep in the ocean trying not to have a panic attack. Both of my feet are on top of Whit’s and his arms are wrapped around my waist.
“Not that I mind this position, but really, I think we should try going further out.” He attempts to move his feet forward but I’m clinging to him so tightly it makes it difficult.
“Can’t we just go back on the beach? Because really, sharks can’t get you on the beach. Or crabs or sting rays or jellyfish.”
“Babe, none of those things are going to get you.”
Babe? If anyone else had called me that back home I would’ve punched them in the junk. Even Mason. But hearing the pet name come across Whit’s lips sends a flare of warmth straight to my belly.
I don’t let him know that. I already feel myself sinking in so deep with these guys. Every little thing they do draws me in. Instead, I crane my neck to give him my best skeptical look. It isn’t hard since Iamentirely skeptical.
“You don’t know that. You don’t. You may have spent your whole life in the ocean and today, today! Could be the day a shark decides to eat you,” I explain. “And then me.”
