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He has stepped out of view, though the bathroom door remains cracked.
“I’ve seen you throw up; you’ve almost seen me naked,” I say. “It’s like we’re almost a real couple.”
He laughs.
He must be feeling better.
“It’s okay, I’m covered,” I say.
He peeks his head in, and from here, I can tell his complexion has a little more color than it did this morning.
“Looking alive again,” I tell him.
“How was the beach?”
“Relaxing,” I say, leaving out the part about his brother ripping my soul from my chest with his bare hands, but it’s neither here nor there. “If my family owned this island, I’d never leave. You’d have to cuff me and haul me out of here.”
“Visit in January and tell me you still feel the same.”
“Is that an invitation?” I wink.
“Sure,” he says, though I know he’s playing along.
“Did you need to use the bathroom? I assume it’s why you barged in here like a man on a mission . . . I’m almost done.”
He waves his hand. “I’ll use the one in the hall.”
Once he’s gone, I think about our Audrina conversation from this morning. Without thinking, I reach for my phone to pull up Instagram. That fickle signal bar flashes before disappearing all over again, but I attempt to pull her account up anyway.
It takes a solid five minutes, but I manage to bring up the first nine photos in her grid. None of them are Burke, of course, but none of them are of her with that actor beau either. Each image portrays a vivacious young woman painting the town, living her best life, and looking happier than ever.
While there’s no excuse for what Burke did, ending a three-year relationship over it seems . . . extreme. Was there no conversation? No talk of couples counseling? No second chances? The way Burke speaks of Audrina, she has a reason—a good reason—for almost everything she does, and nothing is the way it seems.
I tap the follow button in the seconds before the signal fades for the dozenth time.
Seeing how happy she’s trying to look makes me think she’s very much the opposite.
Just a hunch . . .
Half an hour later, I emerge from my lukewarm bath, change into a white sundress for our alfresco dinner, and twist my hair into a messy bun before deciding against it. A vision of Nicola’s scrutinizing gaze in my mind’s eye prompts me to make it sleek and chic instead.
I slick on a tasteful amount of makeup, dab the smallest amount of gardenia perfume behind my ears, and take a second to admire my sun-kissed complexion before making my way to the hall.
I’m lost in my thoughts, rounding the corner to the top of the stairs, when I come face to face with Dorian.
“Oh, sorry,” I say after almost running headfirst into him.
His penetrating gaze is as hard as steel, and his jaw tenses while his lips say nothing—lips that once upon a time made me feel like I was falling and floating at the same time.
He simply brushes past me, his shoulder grazing mine—an ice-cold move I’m willing to bet was intentional.
“There you are.” Burke’s voice sounds from behind me.
I turn to find him striding my way. Behind him, Nicola emerges from her room, stopping to observe our exchange.
“You’re joining us for dinner?” I ask him, placing a light of hope in my eyes since I’m under Nicola’s watchful stare, a stare that matches Dorian’s fleck for fleck but somehow feels even more steeped in loathing than his.
“I am.” He leans in, pressing his lips against mine. His kiss is cold and hard, and all I can think about is how grateful I am that Dorian’s not here to see this—not that it would probably make a difference.
“Glad you’re feeling better, babe,” I say, hating how much I sound like one of those people, but since we have an audience, there isn’t a choice.
“Seriously, Burke? Whatever you have, please, keep it confined to your bedroom,” Nicola interjects, her voice laced with disgust. “And honestly, Briar, you should probably stay with him. I’d hate for you to spread Burke’s stomach bug to the rest of us . . . especially our father.”
Her delivery may be off but her point isn’t.
Funny, though, that this wasn’t an issue before the beach excursion.
“You’re right,” I tell her. Nicola’s expression softens as I stroke her ego. “I’ll stay with Burke until he’s feeling better.”
“I’ll have Yvette bring dinner trays up for you shortly,” she says, chin tilted up as if she’s satisfied we’re seeing things her way. Placing her hand on the back of Burke’s shoulder, Nicola hesitates like she’s going to say something, then changes her mind and treks off without so much as a never mind.
“What was that about?” I ask him when she’s gone.
“Who the hell knows?”
