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And I’m going to have the best time.
“Can I ask you for a favor?” I ask. “Since I did you a solid here tonight.”
He looks up. “Yes.”
I hand him my phone. “Can you take a photo of me?”
“A photo?”
“Yes.”
Judgment rolls off him in waves. I ignore it and pose happily, holding up my drink for the camera like I’m saying cheers.
He lowers my phone after a few seconds. “There. I took a few.”
“Awesome, thanks.”
His jaw works a few times. “You’re going to flood your social media with holiday pics, aren’t you?”
I shake my head, thinking of all the friends Caleb and I have in common. I’m not planning on humiliating myself further by sharing pics from the vacation they all know was meant for two. “No. And even if I was, is that so bad?”
He takes a sip of his wine instead of answering. The silence speaks for itself.
“I bet that would taste even better if it was a drink with a locally produced rum,” I point out.
“It definitely would not.”
I find myself smiling. He’s like one of the grumpy five-year-olds in my class when they haven’t had their nap. Except he’s probably a thirtysomething and a workaholic, which means odds are he hasn’t had a nap in a decade.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing much. Just that you’re not in a very good mood, are you?”
He’s quiet for another long beat, and judging by the faint surprise on his face, I’ve caught him off guard.
But it takes one to know one. After a flight where I managed to cry not once but twice, and the last few months of moving all my belongings into a new house, this is refreshing. I can’t remember a time when the person I was speaking with didn’t know everything about my situation.
Phillip sighs, almost reluctantly. “No, I’m not my best self tonight.”
“That’s okay. We can’t be on top all the time.” Then, I replay the words in my mind and immediately shake my head. “Sorry, forget I said that.”
He leans back in his chair. “Why are you here alone tonight?”
“Why are you?” I ask. My left hand closes around the drink. It’s bare without the engagement ring.
The one I’d thrown at Caleb after I found out.
It had been dramatic and satisfying as hell to watch him bend over the cracks on the sidewalk to search for the glittering thing. He always hated getting dirt under his fingernails. I hope he got plenty that afternoon.
Lord knows I felt dirty enough when I found out he’d been having an affair with my maid of honor, theformerthird part of mine and Becky’s best friend trifecta.
“I’m traveling alone,” Phillip says. “Just here to see the island.”
“Well, would you look at that?” I say and give him my widest smile. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”
He runs a hand along his jaw and looks away from our table, toward the interior of the restaurant. I follow his gaze. The place is packed with people. Most of them are couples, sitting across from one another at candlelit, white cloth-covered tables.
One couple is openly kissing.
