Page 22 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

“Well, as you can see… here I am. I thought about coming a few days early, in case you needed some help. But I can see Lidia’s already helping you.”

“Yeah, but when did you get here? Why didn’t you let me know? I would’ve gone to pick you up at the dock, girl.”

“Last night,” I reply, trying to make my voice sound natural. “Everything was a little… chaotic. The trip, the ferry, the arrival. You know how it is.”

“It sure sounds that way,” he says with a low, sincere laugh. “But I’m so, so glad to see you, really. You have no idea how much. When I sent you the invitation, I didn’t know if you’d agree to come, but…” he smiles again. “It’s wonderful that you’re here.”

And he means it. No pretense. No tension. Just that pure joy that throws me off balance. Because while Pablo gives me this warm welcome, my emotions are tangled up in someone else—in Lidia, in the silence she left behind when she walked away, and in that distance separating us that suddenly seems much greater than I ever imagined.

“I’m glad too,” I finally reply, and it’s true.

But that’s not the only thing I feel.

Pablo sits down across from me and starts telling me details about the wedding, how the planning is going, how happy he is, and all the plans they have for the coming days, but part of me remains anchored to the door through which Lidia just disappeared, while the other part can’t stop wondering whether or not I’ll be able to control myself when she’s near me.

CHAPTER 13

MUCH MORE THAN A FRIEND

Lidia

A few hours before the meeting at the café

I wake up before the alarm goes off with the heavy, sticky feeling of having slept but not rested at all. The air inside the bungalow is warm, thick with salt and humidity; the ceiling fan spins endlessly, stirring the air in lazy circles, but it can’t untangle the tight knot that’s been lodged in my chest since last night. I lie still for a few seconds, staring at the wooden beams and listening to the distant murmur of the sea.

These last few hours have been too chaotic, especially since I ran into Barbara and found out we were neighbors again.

“I wonder if she’s up yet?” I ask myself, and let out a sigh as I realize that, no matter how much I want to, I can’t stop thinking about her.

I cover my face with the sheets and focus on myself, on what I’m feeling. My stomach is in knots, just like the first time I realized I wanted to lose myself in her mouth. I can’t get her out of my head; her laughter is still vivid in my mind, that look of hers that can strip me bare and warm me like a blazing fire. I shake my head hard, almost angrily, and let out a snort.

“No. Today I’m not going to start the day by letting myself get swept away by her. I’m not going to let myself do that.”

I sit up abruptly, plant my feet on the floor, and walk through the bungalow as if it were my own home. Today I’m going to start the day with a very full stomach, drown myself in sweets, and remind myself why I’m here. It’s a simple, basic, visceral plan, but I cling to it as if it were my own personal lifeline.

I get dressed on autopilot: I slip on my electric-blue bikini and cover up with a sheer linen robe that doesn’t make me feel exposed. Miriam wanted us to go over some wedding planning details today, so I try to focus on that and on everything I’m going to eat once I get to the restaurant. But life, as always, has a wicked sense of humor, and the moment I step through the main dining room door, I see her.

Barbara is carrying a tray with a breakfast that, by the way, seems complete to me, aside from the occasional chocolate treat we used to share together. I pretend not to see her, but I feel her gaze fixed on me the whole time.

For a brief moment, the noise in the dining room dies down and it’s just the two of us. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of having a conversation, nor do I want us to talk because I know sparks will fly the moment we open our mouths and let everything we’re thinking spill out.

“Good morning, Lid. I hope you had a good night,” she says in that voice that always creeps under my skin and caresses me until I tremble.

I hate it when she calls me that, when she uses that nickname only she ever dared to use and that’s loaded with so many memories.

Something ignites inside my chest, a spark threatening to turn into a fire. But I clench my teeth. I can’t let her control everything, let her control me like this after all this time apart, so I walk over to the fruit display, grab an apple from the pile, and bolt out of there before she—or fate, or whoever’s pulling these strings—decides to speak to me again.

“Very mature, Lidia, very mature,” I mutter to myself as I start walking aimlessly along the sandy path. “Ignoring people. Kindergarten level.”

I take a big bite out of the apple. I walk along the edge of the bungalows, letting the sound of the sea blend with all the noise in my head, but it’s no use. She’s still there, lodged in every corner of my mind, in every inch of my skin that still remembers her touch.

“Lidia, honey!”

My father pulls me out of my thoughts just as I think I’m about to sink into them. His smile takes up his whole face, and though I want to catch his cheer, I can’t.

“How was your night?” he asks as soon as he lets go of the embrace. “Miriam sent me to let you know. Apparently, she organized a little outing. She didn’t want your first day on the island to be all about the wedding.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Dad,” I reply half-heartedly. “Anyway, you and I need to talk about something.”