Reverse (Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

SIXTY-NINE “Adrift”

SIXTY-NINE

“Adrift”

Jesse Marchant

Natalie

Seven months later . . .

“T his. Is. Living!” Holly exclaims as she plucks sunscreen from her bag sitting between our loungers in our beachside cabana. “Like really living,” she cries joyously, shimmying further into her chair as I scan the tranquil, tropical water and those frolicking in the surf.

“I can’t disagree.” I manage to summon another smile as I sit back in the luxurious chair while the gnawing continues in my gut. The gnawing that’s been eating away at me since we touched down two days ago.

Holly looks over to me, beaming while drawing her long brown locks into a messy bun on her head. “Girl, your dad is the shit . Not only does he hand over the keys to the kingdom, but he also sends you on a Mexication to celebrate! Seriously, you won the parent lottery.”

I turn to her and quirk a brow, and she ducks beneath the implication.

“I mean, aside from that . . . thing he did, but no parent is perfect.” She lathers her rapidly browning skin. “But way to make it up, Uncle Nate, right?”

I’ve broken my back most of my life to earn his chair, but I don’t bring that to her attention. Instead, I just nod in agreement. In the last seven months, I’ve done the layout on every issue with little-to-no help. When I walked into the paper Monday, the entire staff was waiting, Mom standing at Dad’s side, champagne in hand, and a congratulations sign strung across the pit, and I’d been in an utter state of disbelief.

Editor in Chief is mine.

I hadn’t expected it so soon, but it feels earned, warranted, and in no way premature. I just hadn’t expected to feel what I did, which was . . . so much less than I thought.

After handing over the key, Dad only had a few conditions—that he stays on a part-time basis until he’s ready to fully retire. Not only did I wholeheartedly agree, but I was also slightly relieved.

That anxiety eased further when he showed up like clockwork the day after passing the baton with his second condition—that I take a five-day vacation he booked for me, Holly, and Damon in this little paradise.

Apparently, Dad has been making future plans of his own, and as soon as I get back to Austin, he’s whisking my mother away to Greece for a well-earned hiatus.

All of this I expected—eventually—in the future.

The future turned out to be now .

What was unexpected was the screeching halt of my thousand-mile-an-hour mind. At the time, my happy tears had been genuine, if only a little forced—the feeling of accomplishment real, but the after . . . the after has been debilitating .

The future is now.

I’m living it, and it’s done absolutely nothing but drag me into a place I wasn’t at all prepared for after hitting such a sought-after milestone.

For the last two days and nights, I’ve been staring aimlessly at the ocean as a face, and expression, flit to mind—along with the words that should have fit my feelings that day.

“I can’t recall a time in my life where I was so blissfully happy . . . can you?”

Holly chimes in again as I cover my telling eyes by adjusting my sunglasses.

“Seriously, no complaints, Nat, but—”

“Here it comes,” I grumble around my straw.

“I’m just saying, we’ve been here two days and have gone to bed before midnight. It wouldn’t hurt to mix it up, maybe grab a nice big—”

“Margarita? I agree.” I thrust my frozen concoction her way, the mini-inverted Corona bottle clinking against the rim of the schooner. “Have at it.”

“Whatever,” she says, taking a long drink. “Ohhhh, that’s too damned good.”

“Good enough to shut you up? This isn’t Cabo. Act like a lady and find a gentleman .”

“I’m just asking for a wing woman tonight. We haven’t prowled together,” her beautiful features pinch before she places a hand on my arm for added drama, “girl, since college! ”

“If you want a hookup, there are apps for that, but I’ll be damned if you get catfished here, and Damon won’t let it happen, either. Besides, the last time I played wing woman for you, I ended up drunk and deserted in some techie’s living room as you screamed through the walls, faking orgasms. So, that’s a hard pass.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you? Men like that.”

“Not if it’s fake, and you shouldn’t be encouraging men who aren’t getting the job done. It’s an injustice to women. Especially like that , Jesus. You sounded ridiculous.”

“Shut up,” she says, slurping back a good amount of my margarita just as Damon emerges from the ocean. He’s looking absolutely gorgeous in light blue swimming trunks, his mocha skin glittering with cascading water and late-day sun as he saunters through the sand. I drink him in fully because there are beautiful men, and then there’s Damon, in a class of his own.

Completely aware of it, his Spidey-dick senses kick in as heads begin to turn. Looking like a man capable of satisfying every nearby mermaid, he subtly shifts his radar toward a woman in a barely-there bikini. She looks up at him biting her lip, and in return, he flashes her his signature megawatt grin, hooking her instantly. I can practically see the hearts in her eyes as they trail him while he glides by, swagger in full effect.

“What makes you the expert on orgasms anyway?” Holly prods, her back to the spectacle Damon’s making.

Within earshot now, Damon quirks a brow. Devising a quick plan, he moves to shield himself behind the thick curtains of our cabana. I take my margarita back from Holly and sip it to hide my grin.

“I know real, and I know fake. A man who can work it right can also tell the difference, so you should tone down the enthusiasm and make him earn it.” Damon lifts his chin in an urge to keep me going as I make the split decision to bait her. “If you want to stop faking it, why not hook up with Damon?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? God, no.”

Damon scowls at her back as she draws some polish from her bag while frowning at a chipped nail.

“Why not? You two have had a vibe going for years that’s well over the border of flirtatious.” Damon crosses his arms over his sculpted chest, apparently thoroughly enjoying our conversation. Sadly, Holly’s not the only one I’m attempting to lure in.

“Damon vibes with everyone ,” she protests. “I’m not special. Besides, it would screw us up.”

I weigh Damon’s reaction as he stands waiting and interpret mild irritation.

“So, you’ve thought about it?”

She glares at me and quickly glances behind her, missing Damon, who’s now concealed behind the curtain.

“I mean recently ,” I add, covering myself.

“You didn’t pick up on that in the hundred or more conversations I’ve had with you over the years ?”

Just as Damon comes back into view, he stills, lifting his eyes to mine, his expression turning to shock.

That’s right, bestie, it’s time you know the truth.

“I’ve had more real orgasms solo calling his name than with any other man,” she admits.

Whoops, she’s going to fucking kill me.

Seeing this convo going into far more dangerous territory than anticipated, Damon fully perks up, his grin unmistakable as I try to shut it down.

“Tell me about the last guy.”

Damon’s eyes drill into me as I frantically wave him away from the cabana while Holly begins to touch up her polish. He jerks his chin in determination to get answers, eyes challenging as I narrow mine, and he narrows his right back.

Beautiful bastard.

Damon and I continue our wordless argument as Holly cluelessly runs polish along her flawed nail. I lift my sunglasses to telepathically wage war.

Get out, Damon. You’re crossing a line!

I give no fucks.

She’ll never forgive me!

He lifts his chin in prompt . Ask her something else.

This has already gone too far!

A jerk of his chin. Ask her!

“I love him so damned much,” Holly offers as my chest seizes. “He’s the only man other than our dads that I truly respect in this world, and that’s so hard to come by. He’s also the only man I’m brutally honest with—about everything but my feelings for him. Even if he was game, I can’t gamble our lifelong friendship for an easy O.”

“That’s if he’s even capable,” I taunt as his honey eyes flare.

“True. God, what if he can’t carry his weight? What if I risk us for nothing because he’s horrible in bed?”

Damon’s indignant shift in posture and matching glare has me pressing my lips together.

“ Nightmare , and all the more reason to stay away. Besides, even if he felt something for me, which he clearly doesn’t . . .” she pauses thoughtfully. “I mean, I’ve always loved him, and I’ve been in love with him for more years than I haven’t, I think. But lately, I’ve been thinking it’s time to let that dream go.” She pauses again, pushing the top of her polish in the uncorked bottle to look up at me. “Nat, I don’t think he’s capable of being faithful. He hasn’t grown out of the fuckboy phase yet, and we’re getting older.”

I lift a brow as Damon’s expression shifts again. This time it’s anxiety.

“But you’re still in love with him?”

“Six months ago, yeah, now? I’m not sure anymore.”

I decipher his reaction to her words clear as day— panic .

“Can we please change the subject? I don’t want to go down this road if I’m going to be forced to watch him hook up with every

bonita senorita that looks his way for the next three days. I have to block that shit out.” She stands suddenly as Damon leaps back to conceal himself from view. “I’m going to get another margarita.” Holly glances around as my heart explodes into a panicked rhythm.

“Where is that man, anyway? Days are supposed to be ours, together .”

“It’s almost sunset, but I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

“Exactly, he’s probably already snuck in a nooner. Like how could I ever take him seriously? I’ll get him a drink, just in case. Be right back.”

She saunters off toward the bar as I whisper-yell, “Get your ass in here !”

Damon steps in and rakes a hand down his face, eyes cast down.

“Why the hell would you do that? We don’t shank each other and watch the other bleed out. You just forced me into the worst imaginable situation . If I don’t tell her, she’ll hate me.”

“Don’t tell her,” he implores. “I’m fucking begging you, Nat.”

“You asked for it,” I snap.

“I know.”

“Then look at me,” I command, “and be honest with me.”

He dips his chin, his eyes flitting with emotion as he lifts them. Damon doesn’t hide from me, ever. He’s one of the rare men who won’t, but I sense him trying now.

“She knows exactly who you are and everything about you. There’s always been something there between you, and it’s been there for years . She’s ready for something real, and if you aren’t, you don’t go anywhere near that. I’ve watched you two dance around your true feelings since you were teenagers, and I almost reconsidered inviting you on this trip because I’m starting to fear for her.”

“The fuck, Nat?”

“I love you, Damon, but you’re reckless,” I swallow as the hypocrite in me speaks up to save her friends from a similar fate. “And if you think you can quench your curiosity for her and come out unscathed, you’re so fucking wrong.”

“I know that. Why do you think I haven’t gone there?”

“Well, you better make up your mind and do it fast. But, Damon,” I warn, “if she means as much to you as I think she does, you have no idea how much it will hurt if you lose her.” My voice goes chalky, my warning full of venom. “You won’t recover, so you better damned well make sure she’s not the woman you see in your future.” I let out a heavy breath. “If you don’t . . .” I try to come up with better words because the wrong decision could tear the three of us apart.

“If I what?”

“If you don’t give her everything she deserves—all of it, not the bullshit facade we both can see through, that you’ve used to fuck your way through half of Austin, then do not go there with her.”

“I need to think—”

“Then you aren’t ready,” I boil over. “You’ve had half your lifetime to decide, and we’re family, so you need to prepare yourself to regret it.” The image of Easton splashed all over the headlines, coffee in one hand, his new girlfriend in tow in the other, instantly comes to mind. The hand holding hers, the one that used to reach for mine. Agony sears through me as I speak my truth. “Because that pain is indescribable.”

“Natalie—”

“Damon, you have to love with your whole being and make sacrifices. If you can’t—Do. Not. Enter.”

“I just,” he crushes his eyes closed, his expression pained.

“You do love her.”

“Always have,” he says. “Always, I knew when we were fourteen.”

“Are you in love with her now?”

“I’m trying not to be.”

“So, you can live without her?”

“Fuck no, but—”

“Can you watch her stare at another man like he is her whole world? Can you watch her pledge her life to another man as she marries him?”

“Jesus Christ, Nat,” he says. “What the hell is happening?”

“The reckoning of too many years of denial,” I take another long sip of my drink, the words coming easier. “You’ve suspected it for years. You wanted to know, and now you do. If you can’t pull the trigger . . . then bury the gun in a place you’ll never find it again.”

“Nat,” he slides closer to me, patting my knee as the stupid tequila gets my voice shaking.

“Look, Damon, you might think I’m projecting my own shit, and maybe I am, but I have to live with my decision every day.” I grip his jaw firmly in my hand. “I love you too much not to warn you in a scary way.”

“A little help here,” Holly calls as she approaches, hands full of margaritas she’s struggling to keep upright. “We have a soldier about to go down.”

“I’ll say,” I smirk as Damon gives me the stink eye before leaping to his feet to help her.

Holly looks up at him and smiles with her whole being, and I physically feel it when it strikes Damon. “Where did you go off to? Practicing impregnation?”

“Funny,” he mutters, his tone giving his inner struggle away.

She frowns. “What’s wrong? You get some sand in your junk, you look . . .” she tilts her head. “Constipated.”

Jesus, Holly.

I slap my forehead as he considers her as his life’s purpose, and she all but offers him Ex-Lax.

A girl can only do so much.

Holly steps into the cabana, tossing her wrap off as Damon’s eyes cover her bikini-clad body in one longing and completely conflicted sweep. It’s then I know I’ve gotten through to him.

I take my fresh margarita and decide to stir the pot just a little more.

“Good news, Holly. Damon said he’ll be your wingman tonight.”

Damon’s eyes strangle me in a slow, agonizing death over her shoulder as she situates herself on the chair.

“Really?” She glances over to him, and he gives her a very, very unconvincing nod. Frowning, Holly grips his hand. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just wiped from swimping.”

“Swimping?” She laughs. “You must be tired. Well, hey, if you aren’t up to tonight,” she says, nodding toward me, “I’ll twist Sister Mary Butler’s arm.” She shifts her focus my way, tossing me into the fire. “How long has it been since you’ve seen action, Nat?”

“I’m good,” Damon interjects. “Just need a power nap.” Time to think. “I’m going to go,” he tosses a thumb over his shoulder, “get some of that . . . nap.”

He follows that up with the most awkward delivery ever.

“Twatu,” he shakes his head, “to . . . stay and that,” he gestures toward her drink. “. . . mmm looks good. I wake up you t-to just text me when you’re ready.”

“Oh my God, Natalie! ” Holly’s jaw goes slack as she furiously thumps my arm, fear in her voice, “He’s having a sunstroke!”

“No!” Damon booms and we both jump out of our skin. “I’m fine, baby, see?” He flashes the scariest grin ever. “I promise.”

A burst of hysterical laughter escapes me, but my empathy silences it shortly after. Damon rarely ever lets his guard down

this low, nor does he drop the ball. He’s reeling, his struggle at present, painfully palpable.

Was I so obvious with Easton?

Were Easton and I fools to think we hid our attraction, our affection, so well? Joel saw it, and he really didn’t hide that he did. Thinking back, I can remember Joel staring between us a dozen or so times, probably tempted to bang our heads together more than once. Maybe it takes finding a soul-stealing love to truly recognize it—and losing it—to realize it’s worth having, no matter what you have to invest or the total cost.

I’m still waiting on that final sum, but it seems to be the gift that keeps on giving.

“Let’s do dinner first?” Holly asks between the both of us.

“I’m ordering room service tonight,” I say, ignoring Damon’s pleading gaze. He opened this box. It’s his chore to unpack it. “I’m positive I’ll be hungover by dinner.”

“Isn’t day drinking the best?” Holly pipes cheerfully between us.

As the tension thickens, she grips Damon’s hand and presses a chaste kiss to his knuckles. “Nap in here. I haven’t seen you in like three weeks. You’ve been working too hard. I’ll keep my voice down.”

He grins down at her with genuine adoration. “Impossible.”

“You love my mouth,” she quips.

“Yeah, I do,” he says before placing a brief kiss on her temple.

“I love you,” she says easily.

“I love you, too,” he says softly, his eyes lingering, as she turns to me and Damon does too. “Love you,” he says, in afterthought.

“Love you,” I reply, my tone more like yeah, bestie, take a minute. “Text me, if you need me.”

“For what? He’s got me,” she boasts proudly. Damon starts to walk away as I debate whether to come clean when she speaks up.

“Do you think he heard us?” She whisper-yells, eyes wide as Damon stops, lingering just outside the cabana again. He’s pushing it too far, so I decide to, as well.

“Would that be the worst thing?”

“Absolutely,” she says, her expression panicked. “Oh my God, what if he did?”

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe he did.”

“I would die. Jesus, full-blown denial starts now.”

“Haven’t you been there long enough?”

“I’m on vacation. You don’t go to Mexico to get your fucking heart broken.”

“He probably didn’t hear anything. I would have seen him.”

The ball is yours, Damon. Please don’t drop it.

“Thank God,” she sighs. Everything in me wants to scream at her to pay attention and that her life is about to drastically change. Damon finally takes his leave, and I again lower my glasses, my happiness for her turning envious as my eyes water.

Last week, I was fine, well, fine- ish , and the week before, and the week before that. As of a month ago, I was starting to come to grips with life as I know it post-divorce from the love of my life.

It’s been months. If I’m honest, just over a year of grieving since that blissful time in Sedona. I’ve been grieving three times as long as I got to love him.

Last week, I was moving, keeping up while burying myself in other’s stories, other’s lives, in headlines. Now I’m on a dream vacation with my best friends after hitting a career achievement I’ve been working toward my entire adult life.

My vision blurs as it comes to me.

The future I fought so hard for feels a lot like settling. And if that’s really the truth, then I have no purpose past getting back to my desk. But that should be enough for me, at least until I can manage to fall in love again.

It should be enough.

I still love being a journalist. That much is a fact. I love writing. I love being editor. I love working with my father. That much hasn’t changed.

“You got quiet,” Holly says as I press my towel to my face.

You’re only having a moment because of what you just witnessed. This is their time, soldier the fuck up!

“I’m just relaxing,” I say. “It’s hot.”

“You asked Damon to be my wingman? Seriously?”

I look over to my best friend as years of their history flits through my mind. The time Max Sutton broke her heart when she was sixteen. Damon showed up as I was comforting her, a pizza and her favorite cupcakes from a local bakery in hand. Damon carrying her across our pasture when she hyperextended her knee after dismounting Percy. Damon’s eyes dimming as she proclaimed she was in love during our first year at UT. He pulled the same move six months later with the pizza and twice the cupcakes when it ended— badly . Holly holding Damon’s hand during his grandmother’s funeral. Not letting go for one second as he openly grieved her in the rawest state he’s ever been in.

“Holly,” I say softly.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you,” I tell her with a watery smile as my chest continues to burn. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this. All your dreams came true. I’m so proud of you. It might have been a given eventually, but we all know, Uncle Nate included, that you earned that paper.”

“Thank you, I needed you to acknowledge that.”

“Babe, you worked so hard for it. You’re going to kick so much ass!”

We clink glasses as I force myself back into the present, trying to remember the quote that I’ve sort of adopted as my motto—‘Don’t seek happiness in the place you lost it.’

But I didn’t lose my happiness in Easton Crowne. I lost my happiness when I lost Easton Crowne. Still, it’s memories of loving him that push me back from progressing. Ironically, as I sit back now, celebrating my accomplishments, I know my progress is severely lacking because I still haven’t budged personally .

Because I can’t. Because I divorced a man who loved me so fiercely, so completely, that I might have destroyed a part of him that trusted enough to allow himself to love that way again. If so, I did a disservice to the women who will love him in the future, because I doubt he will ever open himself as deeply.

Sadly, neither will I.

Then again, it’s Easton. He won’t settle.

Even with our fate sealed, I have to try to live in the moment and every moment after. I have to look around, count my blessings, and be thankful. I’ve paved my way. This is my life and reality, and I’m determined to live it.

As the tequila glides down my throat, I decide to replace my motto with all the others I can summon with the ever-present sting in my chest.

Carpe Diem. Seize this day—Natalie!

Today is the first day of the rest of your life—Natalie!

You are your own captain—Natalie!