She grinned, raising her hands in surrender.
“She’s probably here to annoy the shit out of you,” Rhiannon added under her breath. Then, after a beat: “And… here they are.”
Alejandra turned, and blinked. Vanessa was holding hands with a man who looked old enough to be her father.
“Is it custom here to go around holding hands with your dad?” she whispered to Callum. He bit back a laugh.
Definitely not her father.
“Callum, nice to see you,” Vanessa said smoothly, like nothing had ever happened the night before. Like she hadn’t turned into a fucking mussel and stuck to Callum for dear life. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, her tailored dress elegant, and completely ridiculous for a beach bonfire with a storm threatening overhead.
Alejandra glanced down at herself—Callum’s oversized sweater, worn jeans, sand already clinging to her sneakers. They were like night and day, and she wondered if this version of Vanessa wasn’t the one he had fallen in love with when they met in college.
“Vanessa,” Callum replied, flat.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. A promising swimmer, such a shame about the accident. Terrible luck,” the older man said, extending his hand. “Raymond Garramond.”
Callum didn’t take it. “Nice to meet you.”
Oh. Unpolite Callum? Very, very hot.
“Don’t you want to introduce me to your friend?” Vanessa asked, her voice dripping sweetness. Too much sweetness.
“I’m his girlfriend,” Alejandra cut in, firm and clear. Let her choke on it. “Alejandra López Romero.”
Garramond studied her. “I notice an accent. Where are you from?”
Alejandra let out a short laugh. “An accent? I just gave you my full name. I’m clearly not from around here. I’m Spanish.”
God, she hated politicians. She could smell it on him—the posture, the tone, the way he scanned people like they were something to categorize.
“I heard you’re a surfer,” Vanessa said, her gaze dragging slowly from Alejandra’s shoes to her face. “Surfers are the worst, don’t you think, Eira?”
Eira froze slightly, caught off guard as she was chatting with her friends nearby.
“Oh, what? Now you’re not saying anything?” Vanessa continued, a sharp edge creeping into her tone. “Funny. Considering what you used to say.”
Then her eyes snapped to Callum. “But I suppose it makes sense. Likemother, like son. Always drawn to unpredictable, unstable people.”
Alejandra’s jaw tightened. There was definitely something Eira had shared with Vanessa in the past, and she was now using to rage bait, probably.
“She’ll leave you,” Vanessa went on, her voice dropping, almost intimate, but venomous. “As soon as her shoulder heals, she’ll be gone. That’s what people like her do. They take what they need and move on.”
“Vanessa, go away,” Callum said, his voice low, dangerous. Not loud, but sharp enough to cut. His whole body had gone rigid, jaw tight, eyes locked on her with a warning that was very real.
“I’m serious,” Vanessa insisted, stepping closer. “You think this is different? You think she’s different? You’re just repeating the same mistake—”
“I said, go away.” His voice didn’t rise, but it hardened. “You don’t get to come here, insult the people I care about, and pretend you still have a say in my life.”
“Callum—”
“No.” He shook his head. “You made your choice. Years ago. You walked away. So don’t come back now acting like you know what’s good for me.”
“Hey,” Garramond stepped in, frowning. “Watch how you speak to my wife.”
“Wife?” Rhiannon blinked. “You married this old man?”
Alejandra almost laughed. God, she loved her.
