Page 51 of Waiting for You

"I am not hiking a jungle right after snorkeling," Eliza declared, pressing Violet's schedule flat against the table. "After the ocean, I want to eat carbs, collapse on the sand, and do nothing."

"That," I agreed, pointing at her. "Yes. That's the energy I need."

"We could organize some beach games," Andrew offered.

"Okay, now we're talking," Violet approved, perking up.

"Are you two suddenly the event coordinators?" I challenged, and Violet laughed.

"After we survive the beach games," I negotiated, "I fully intend to go inside, collapse into bed, and refuse to move."

"Staying in bed doing what?" Xavier asked, his voice low.

I turned my head to look at him. My brain flashed to his interrogation at the rehearsal dinner, the intrusive phone call, the demanding who are you meeting, and I filed this question right alongside the rest of his jealous garbage.

"Just lying motionless in bed." I held his stare. "That's it. Nothing else. Is that itinerary acceptable to you?"

"That sounds reasonable," Andrew chimed in, missing the tension.

"Reasonable," Eliza agreed.

"Thank you," I said, smug.

Xavier stayed silent and picked up his black coffee.

After breakfast, the staff walked our group out to a private chartered boat. The dive gear lay across the deck, and the over-enthusiastic instructor asked who was brave enough to jump in first. Simon volunteered, Violet followed, Andrew stepped up. Eliza stared nervously at the dark water, then told the instructor she wanted to go too.

The whole group turned to stare at me.

"I'm good right here," I announced, backing away from the railing. "I'll cheer from the safety of the dry deck."

They pivoted to stare at Xavier.

"I'm staying on the boat too," he said.

"Both of you?" Simon asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

"I don't love deep water," I defended.

"Same," Xavier agreed.

"Are you two scared of sharks?" Violet teased, rolling her eyes.

"Yes," we answered at once, the confession landing in the same deadpan, terrified tone.

Violet and Simon traded a suspicious look before staring back at us. Eliza pressed her lips together, her nose wrinkling. Andrew glanced between the two of us, his head tilted in quiet observation.

I turned my head to look at Xavier. He was already staring straight at me.

I knew why. I'd always been irrationally terrified of deep water, and Xavier had always carried the same phobia. There'd been a humiliating afternoon years ago when we'd dressed for the beach, only because I'd stubbornly handed him a "cute date ideas" list Violet had drafted for me.

We drove the whole hour to the coast, parked, then sat in the front seats for twenty miserable minutes. He finally broke the silence and asked why I wasn't getting out, and I confessed through tears that I was terrified of the ocean. He let out a huge breath of relief, admitted he was too, and we threw the car in reverse, drove to a greasy diner instead, and laughed ourselves stupid about our mutual cowardice through the whole meal.

That was the evening I understood what true safety felt like. Same as the vanilla cake. Same as the beach. We shared the same irrational aversions, the same inside jokes, the same stupid fears wrapped in two different bodies.

And now eight years had burned away, the love was supposedly dead, and the only thing left between us was this tense minefield we sat on opposite sides of.

The brave members of the group jumped into the water. Xavier walked over and dropped onto the bench beside me at the edge of the boat.