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I shake my head at him and lift the s’more to my mouth to try it.
Both of us take a bite and moan in contentment. It’s sweet and gooey with a hint of burnt sugar that lingers on my lips as I savor it.
“I’m so happy it’s just us here.”
“Agree. I can tolerate you.” He takes another bite, groaning. “You’re not a pain in the ass like everyone else on this island.”
He says it around a mouthful, lips tipped up.
“Hey!” I playfully swat at him.
He swallows, half choking. “Just keeping it real.”
“We’ll be forced to walk among them soon enough.” I inhale deeply, my mood going sour at the thought.
Paxton’s hand reaches out, and he lifts my chin so our gazes lock. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
I think about his question because there’s no simple answer. A million things are floating through my mind at this very second.
Is Teagan going to be okay?
Will Theresa keep her mouth shut?
Can we actually wrap up this project?
What will happen to Paxton and me when this reprieve ends?
I tip my chin up, meeting Paxton’s eyes. “What are we going to do?”
A crease forms between his eyes. “Meaning?”
“When this bubble pops, and we have to go to work. We have a shit show waiting for us.”
We both go silent for a second, each thinking about everything we’ll be confronted with. Paxton eventually breaks the silence.
“Well, other than pulling our clients from the production?”
“Yes, other than that, I don’t see what more we can do.” Paxton nods in agreement.
“You and I both know that isn’t a viable option. We all need this.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. “We can try to talk to Brad and Teagan again. Have a word with Theresa, too.”
He groans at the mention of that witch. “Maybe we should all just get drunk.” Paxton looks up at the sky. “Yeah . . . I like that plan.”
I roll my eyes teasingly. “I’m sure you do, but that’s not viable either.”
“Buzzkill.”
Lifting both hands in a probably gesture gets a chuckle from Paxton.
“Truthfully, I think Theresa needs to leave,” I admit with a sigh.
“Honestly, I’ve been wondering why she’s even here?” he says, shoving the remainder of his s’more into his mouth.
“I don’t understand it either. She has a hold on Teagan that isn’t healthy. I don’t get it. Teagan is eighteen now. She doesn’t need to do what her mom says.” My voice rises an octave just thinking about how demanding the woman is of her own daughter.
She seems to care more about money and fame than Teagan, which breaks my heart.
“You feel very passionately about this.” I look up to find Paxton staring at me intently.
“Hell, yeah, I do.”
He cocks his head and looks at me, but it’s like he’s seeing something he’s never seen before. “Why?” he asks.
I shake my head. I don’t want to do this. Not here. Not now.
“It’s complicated,” I finally say, allowing the fear to dictate my actions.
He nods and says nothing, but his gaze never wavers from mine. He waits for me to continue, but I can only look away. I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes when I broach this subject.
If I talk about my father, I will ruin all the progress we’ve made. But if I can’t talk to him about this, where does that leave us?
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
“I know that if I talk about this, you might—”
He cuts me off. “You can talk to me.” His hand reaches out and takes mine in his, then he lifts it to his mouth and kisses my knuckle.
It’s Paxton’s way of reassuring me, of giving me strength.
“My dad is a condescending prick.”
At that, Paxton lets out a laugh. His head falls back on his shoulders.
“What?” I cry indignantly.
His head shakes as his chest rumbles with laughter. “That is not what I expected you to say.”
“Well, it’s the truth; he is. Being the daughter of Thomas Reynolds isn’t that different from being the kid of Theresa. Both are controlling, both think they know everything, and both are awful people who only think of themselves. The only difference is, I don’t let my father control me.”
Paxton continues to look at me, but now it looks like I sprouted a second head.
“Say something,” I beg, not liking the quiet after baring my soul.
“You don’t have much of a relationship with him, do you?”
“I tried to tell you that, but you were too hell-bent on thinking the worst of me.”
He grimaces. “You’re nothing at all like I thought.” I can feel my cheeks heat at his words. “I’m sorry.”
I turn away, my chest filling with emotion.
So much emotion.
I’m overcome by it.
“You didn’t know.”
He places a hand on my shoulder. “Hey. Look at me,” he commands in a soft tone.
