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“Hey, Ash,” Nic called out when he spied me. “Want to join us?”
I wanted to. He was so handsome, and it was sweltering.
“You’d better not,” Timothy said with a laugh. “There are fish in here that would bite your toes off.”
“Stop scaring her,” Nic said, and my heart swelled. “There aren’t any fish that big in this lake.”
If my cousin wasn’t there, I’d tell Nic the truth—I didn’t know how to swim. Nic would take my hand and wade out with me, I was sure of it.
While I stood on the shore, wishing I was older and daydreaming of Nic kissing me in the lake, Nic and Timothy took off, racing each other.
Glancing down, I spied their hastily discarded clothes. I didn’t even think. I scooped up Nic’s shirt and took off.
The shirt is worn now. It was too big for Nic’s lanky frame back then, but it still fits me. It wouldn’t fit Nic anymore.
I pull it out of my suitcase, wrap it into a ball, and hold it close to my chest. I’ve spritzed it with the cologne he favors according to magazines. The scent is barely there tonight, though, and as I take it to my bed, burying my face in it, I mostly inhale my perfume. Tears fill my eyes and I let them fall onto the soft fabric.
Gabriel knocks gently on my door. When I don’t answer, he pushes it open a few inches.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. The remorse in his voice sounds genuine, but that changes nothing. “I owe you an explanation. I grew up in Buffalo. I wanted to see where I used to live. See if it changed. I lost track of the time.”
I stuff Nic’s shirt under the bedding. “I don’t care.”
His face softens and I remember too late that mine is a teary mess. He takes a step into my room. “I really am sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise. I want this to work out for us.”
Stupid, hateful tears. His pity is wasted on me. I wipe them off my cheeks and dry my eyes. “I’m not crying over you.”
He arches an eyebrow and I hate that he doesn’t believe me. I hate it even more when he takes another step toward me. “Do you want to talk?”
“No, I do not want to talk, Gabriel Sinclair.” I huff.
He cracks a small smile at that, but it’s a warm smile. An invitation. “I’m down the hall if you need anything.”
Oh my god. He means it. Maybe it’s guilt, or maybe it’s more golden boy shit, but he wants me to—what? Spill my feelings about Nic? Maybe he’s as good as a priest and would take my confession to the grave, but I’m not willing to trust him, despite the NDA. Ever.
“What I need is something you can’t give me,” I shoot back. I want to claw him to shreds, make sure he understands that I don’t like him.
“Try asking nicely,” he replies in a smoky voice.
Something shorts out inside me. I stare at the shadows defining his arms, cast by the warm light of my bedside lamp. The thick stubble on his jaw. The dark color of his eyes. My body goes all warm and honeyed.
I am not okay with this.
There’s a look in his eyes like he can see right through me. That he knows what he did, and he likes it. “Good night, Ashley,” he finally says, closing the door.
I go to sleep mad, but that’s better than going to sleep sad.
There’s no chance for me to oversleep. Gabriel knocks on my door with the promise of coffee and breakfast. It’s enough to get my half-hungover ass in the shower.
The winery tour is awkward as hell. Gabriel is kind and attentive to everyone, including me, but spits his wine like a douche. Since I don’t get to drive, I swallow my drink, but the pours are small. Too small for holding his hand and smiling at him. It’s excruciating.
Then we’re on the road.
From time to time, Gabriel attempts conversation. Since we aren’t being photographed anymore and I’m careening between anger at being stood up and confusion over his following attempts at what I guess is kindness, I shoot him down with one-word answers and hide behind my sunglasses as I scroll through various social media platforms.
Nic is everywhere.
Some asshole has snapped photos of Nic and Jessie in the ocean off a private beach, and though it’s not obvious at first glance, Nic’s hand is down her bikini bottoms.
