“Don’t cross that line,” I tell him, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I promise to behave.”
He heads towards the door, leaving so fast, I feel like what just happened may have been my imagination.
17
sandcastle showdown
OTHELLO
Whatever this sillycontest is will be a great distraction from all these thoughts that keep circling back to Marley. I don’t usually get thrown off like this, but she definitely has me off my game. Not that I’m complaining. So, yeah, a distraction is exactly what I need right now.
The only way I know how to do that is to focus on what I really came out here to do. Be there for my cousin. But shit, I don’t even know where to start with that. A part of me was waiting for Gavin to break the ice. But would he? Trust me, I’m not under any illusions. He probably didn’t want me here just as much as I didn’t want to be here. We were both doing this for Mimi. And I have yet to be thebestbest man for him.
Mimi had carried both joy and sadness when she talked about this wedding. Joy for Gavin and sadness because she knew she wouldn't live long enough to see her only child get married.
But I don’t think anyone stopped to think about what it would feel like for me, playing best man to a man who betrayed me. I try to put myself in Aunt Mimi’s shoes and see her side ofthis. But nothing about it makes sense to me. Nothing except the fact that I love my aunt and I’d do anything for her, including this. It’s the only reason I’m here.
Theonlyreason.
I makeit to the lobby, which is buzzing with guests. Even from here, you can see beyond the resort, the beach, and a huge banner reading:The Grand Palms Annual Sand Castle Contest.
I shake my head as I think of all the things planned for this week. Too many group activities and forced interactions, I won’t be able to back out of.
When I step outside, the Maui heat is blazing, and although my shirt is lightweight for summer, I undo the buttons, leaving it open and exposing my chest.
Years of early-morning workouts and discipline make me confident enough to do so. Six days a week, I hit the gym. Weights, HIIT, and just enough cardio to keep my heart in check. It’s less about vanity and more about staying sane.
It helped a lot with my grief too. Mental suffering has a way of unraveling you from the inside out. Cutting you raw and deep. At least it did that for me. After my parents and my Aunt Mimi passed, I needed something to anchor me. The gym became my sanctuary, my outlet, and my lifeline.
There are still 45 minutes to spare before the contest begins. And the men’s group text says we should meet at the Ohana Kitchen. Looks like out of the five of us, I’m the first to arrive at the resort’s open-air restaurant.
The smell of buttered croissants, seared pineapples, and bacon drifts out before I even step in. I find a seat at an outdoor table near the entrance, so I’m easy to spot, and I order an eggwhite omelet with smoked salmon, sautéed spinach, and a side of mixed fruit.
Minutes later, I hear, “Othello, right?”
My mouth is stuffed with food when I look up to see a guy standing over me with tan skin and brown locs that he has twisted up in a knot on the top of his head.
I nod, my mouth chomping and swallowing mangos. I grab my juice to wash it down.
“I’m James,” he introduces himself and takes a seat at one of the three empty chairs. I recognize his name from the group chat. I wipe my mouth with a cloth napkin, and we exchange a firm handshake.
“Nice to finally put a face to the stories,” he says with a grin that I can’t tell is smug or friendly.
“I can only imagine what stories you were told,” I tell him half-heartedly.
Here we go.
I’ve been preparing myself for these“stories”and whatever else comes my way this week. Me and Carina’s relationship had never made headlines or been featured on social media blogs, but that didn’t matter. In tight circles like this, people always knew more than they let on.
James grins. “The stories have been…surmising to say the least.” His gaze sharpens. “People are joking around, wondering if you’re going to be the one standing when the preacher asks if anyone objects to the wedding.”
I grunt. “They don’t have to worry about that from me. That’s water under the bridge now. We’ve all moved on.”
“Have you now?” James asks. “I assumed it was different from the silent treatment you’ve been giving everybody.”
“Don’t assume. It has nothing to do with that.”
