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No matter how hard I’d tried over the years, I’d never been able to get that last image of her out of my head. It haunted me to this day. Perhaps that was the reason I wanted to give her this trip; it was my way of apologizing. It was my way of making up for what could never be.
I forced myself to meet Molly’s eyes, knowing that I had to be convincing. “What kiss?” I asked with my eyebrows raised.
“You kissed me in the library of my parents’ house,” Molly said. “The Christmas party was raging in the other room, but you pulled me away so that we could be alone.”
I wrinkled my brow, as though I were struggling to remember the moment. Then I laughed. “Are you positive this happened?”
Molly didn’t laugh; she didn’t even crack a smile. “A hundred percent.”
“Well, then… I must have been really drunk that night,” I said casually. “Because I can’t remember a thing.”
Her eyes were cold, and I could sense the same hurt that had engulfed her six years ago. While a selfish part of me was happy she still cared, another part of me knew I needed to hurt her a little now in order to spare her more hurt somewhere down the road. My lifestyle wasn’t suited for long-term relationships. I wasn’t suited for long-term relationships. And, Molly was not some random girl in a club.
She was my best friend’s sister. If I got involved with her only to neglect her later in the relationship, it would effectively end my friendship with Jason, and I just couldn’t take that risk. Denying the memory seemed like the easiest way to spare Molly from unnecessary entanglements—and to spare myself from unnecessary temptation.
“You weren’t drinking that much,” she said.
I shrugged. “I’ve kissed a lot of different women in my life, Molly,” I said, hating myself for appearing so flippant and uncaring. “I don’t remember half their names. Sometimes even their faces blur together.”
I saw her cringe a little, and I didn’t blame her. “In any case, you’re Jason’s sister,” I continued. “If we did actually kiss… I think it’s better that kiss stay in the past where it belongs.”
She looked intense for a moment and then in the next breath, she seemed to relax. “You’re right,” she nodded. “It was obviously a meaningless kiss, anyway.”
I pushed back my disappointment and nodded. “Right…”
“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” she said.
“No, not at all.”
“I should get to my room; I’m exhausted.”
“Of course,” I nodded, standing up to walk her to the door. “I’ll be a little busy the next few days, but if you need anything at all, please feel free to ask my staff.”
“Thank you, Tristan.”
Alani turned towards both of us when I opened the door, ready to escort Molly to her suite. Molly turned to me for a brief second. Her light blue eyes looked a little conflicted, but then she gave me a small smile and turned away from me.
I watched her leave with Alani, remembering the perfect kiss we had shared and all the little pearls of hope that had come with it. That hope was gone now; all I had left was the memory.
Chapter Six
Molly
I was in one of the resort’s four luxury pools, thrilled at the idea of being able to swim in December. The water of the heated pool was refreshingly comforting. I completed my twentieth lap and got out of the pool to relax on one of the lounge chairs with a drink and a good book.
There was an older couple on the opposite side of the pool, sleeping under their sun umbrellas, and a middle-aged gentleman floating around in the deep end. Other than a few resort employees walking around, there was no one there. It was calm, quiet, and relaxing. But as peaceful as it was, I felt a little forlorn. It was slightly depressing to be at such a romantic resort all by myself.
I adjusted my black-and-white polka-dotted bikini, wiped myself off roughly, and lay down on the lounge chair, which had been set up with soft fluffy cushions for added comfort. The margarita I had ordered was only half empty, so I took a sip and picked up the book I was reading. I was so immersed in Fiona Barton’s world of mystery and intrigue that I didn’t even notice Alani approach until she was standing over me, casting her shadow over my page.
“Alani,” I said, marking my spot and setting the book down. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”
“How are you doing?” she asked. “Can I g
et you anything?”
“Nothing at all,” I assured her. “I’m just enjoying the sun and the water.”
I had been at the resort for three nights now, and I had seen Alani every day. We had actually developed a friendship of sorts, sneaking in conversations between her shifts and between my trips to the beach. Alani was an easy person to talk to. She was friendly, open, and endearingly inquisitive. It helped that she didn’t seem to consider me a guest, and she often regaled me with funny stories about the other guests and their little idiosyncrasies.
