Reverse (Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

SEVENTY-TWO “Always Remember Us This Way”

SEVENTY-TWO

“Always Remember Us This Way”

Lady Gaga

Natalie

H olly paces in front of me as I sip my Bloody Mary, deciding it’s as close to drinking tequila as I’m ever going to get again. The last time I drank tequila, my ex-husband showed up on my Mexication with his beautiful new girlfriend waiting for him—probably naked—when he got back to his hotel room. And by last time, I mean— last night . I woke up today in full-fledged denial, praying I dreamt it, until Damon came to me with a fistful of options. In one hand, a coffee, in the other, a Bloody Mary. Option two has been good to me.

“What are the odds, Nat? What are the fucking odds!?” Holly says as I mentally plot my next few days in paradise.

“Chill out. I’m working on a new itinerary. Today is vodka, tomorrow rum. Oh,” I exclaim, “let’s have a schnapps day!”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m painfully aware of that. Please stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy,” I whine as I take a hard pull of the cocktail. Holly kneels in front of me, placing her hands on my terry cloth-covered knees. At least my wardrobe is sorted. It will remain my staple uniform as I live in my hotel room for the next three days charging away my sobriety drink by drink. Thankfully with my new salary, I can afford it.

“You can’t hide in here,” Holly reasons.

“Watch me make a liar out of you. Let’s change the subject. Can we talk about last night?” I beg. “Please. What happened with Damon?”

“Nothing to report. We had a quiet dinner, followed closely by quiet drinks. His wingman skills are nonexistent. He’s in a weird headspace. The bars were scarce, so sadly, I danced by myself for an hour until I managed to hook a hottie on the floor. The cockblocker immediately claimed I was drunk and whisked me back to my room. Something’s wrong with him, and he won’t tell me what.” Her eyes implore mine. “Do you know what’s wrong?”

“No idea,” I lie.

“Well, he’s going to come clean to me, or we’re going to fight.”

I have a feeling it’s going to be a damn good one. I fish my bacon olive breakfast off my shiny, yellow cocktail sword and begin devouring it as she snatches the drink away from me.

“Get dressed immediately. Poolside, now .”

“No.”

Ignoring me, she tosses a glittering, emerald bikini my way. “You’ve finally got six abs. The world deserves to know.”

“No.”

She plucks the golden chain I brought off my dresser full of accessories and tosses it on the bed next to the bikini, completely unaware of the piece of the past she just added to her demands. “Put it on.”

Staring at the chain, a clear memory surfaces of Easton running a worshipful finger along it as I slowly rode him. Lush red lips parted, he looked up at me with a loved-soaked expression. He loved me, even then. In hindsight, I think he loved me before I left Seattle, as I did him.

“Natalie, this is something you can’t pass on—an opportunity.”

“To watch my ex-husband frolic with his new girlfriend on a Mexican beach? I’m good here.”

“Jesus, you know I don’t say this often, but you disappoint me. He married you. Married you , Natalie. If you’ve got anything, you’ve got that. Now find your pride somewhere in the self-pity closet you’re hiding in and get dressed.”

When I don’t budge, Holly digs her heels in, arms crossed. “You still love him. This could be your last chance.”

“My last chance was the day he signed the divorce papers.”

“What?”

“Hindsight is a bitch, my friend—and I hate her. Loathe her,” I say, swiping my drink back. “Despise, detest—dislike very strongly,” I giggle. “See? I’m perfectly capable of speaking. Easton’s always been the reason behind my damn impediment.”

“Get up!” She orders, prying the drink from my hand before walking over to the toilet and dumping it.

“No good can come of this,” I grumble, grabbing the bikini and chain before pushing her out of the bathroom and slamming the door in her smiling face.

“You’re going to burn in hell for this,” I grit out to Holly when Easton appears with Misty at his side, who looks ravishing in a gold bikini. Holly’s eyes bulge as she tries and fails to school her expression.

“Jesus, that bikini is so tacky,” she lies through her teeth.

“Please don’t,” I say. “I’ll hate you more for lying.”

She shrugs, mimosa in hand. “I mean, she’s not ugly.”

I lower my shades so Holly can clearly read my warning. Easton scouts the pool while Misty lays a towel on an oversized lounger. I sense it the minute his eyes find me and push my glasses back up. I made a fool out of myself last night—and I was okay with that—but he wasn’t at all receptive, and that’s the hardest pill to swallow. The imprint on that particular pill— he’s moved on .

“He’s looking.”

“Shut up and don’t look back.”

In a gift of divine intervention, Damon appears, blocking my view before taking a seat on the edge of my lounger. My small victory is cut short when he speaks up. “Oh, damn, I see I’ve arrived in time for the show.”

“Shut up,” I snap. “Both of you, this isn’t funny . At all.”

“Well, you’ve got us,” Damon offers, “and because you do, I’ve taken the liberty of signing us up for an outing.”

“Thank God,” I exhale. “I don’t give a shit what it is. Sign us up for every damned excursion.”

“ Don’t do that,” Holly warns Damon. “And where are we going?”

He grins wickedly. “It’s a surprise.”

“But this is a touristy thing , right?” Holly wrinkles her nose. “It’s going to be boring.”

“So what, is there a bar?” I ask, my only condition.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be hooked up, lush,” Damon assures.

“Hey,” I hear uttered in a soft greeting. My body jerks to attention when Easton appears over Damon’s shoulder. Holly bolts upright in her lounger as Damon turns to look up at Easton. They both stare at him, temporarily starstruck, and I vow to disown them both as soon as we touch back down on Texas soil.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I just came over to check on you, see how your head’s doing.” Easton stands there, glowing beneath the sun that only highlights his perfection, his board shorts hanging on for dear life below the deep muscles of his hips. Holly’s tongue begins to roll out of her mouth as Damon and I speak up simultaneously.

“She’s a shit drunk—” Damon starts.

“—it’s still attached,” I fake a smile, tapping my temple.

“Sure about that?” Easton replies with a smirk.

“Well, today’s only Thursday, and the wind is blowing, so we’ll keep you updated,” Damon digs as I resist clawing at his flawless skin.

Easton’s gaze lingers on me before he lowers it to address Damon. “Easton,” he says, extending his hand to Damon, who accepts it. “Heard a lot of good things about you, man.”

“Same,” Damon replies, enthusiastically pumping Easton’s hand. “Nice to finally meet my best friend’s ex-husband,” he jokes as I implore God to grant me the ability to laser Damon’s face off with nothing but a pointed stare.

“Would have met you a lot sooner if you, you know, hadn’t secretly met , dated ,” Holly draws out bitterly, “eloped and divorced ,” she finishes before shifting personalities. “I’m Holly,” she extends her hand to Easton, who takes it with a full-fledged grin. The recognition in his eyes implies he likes them both.

“Heard a lot about you, too , Holly,” Easton delivers expertly before Holly’s pupils begin to heart like a damned cartoon character. I can’t blame her. The sight of him, and with as disarming as he is, it’s easy to see the shiny. For me, he’s all shine.

“Well, you know our girl,” Damon chuckles, playing diplomat, “go big or go home.”

“Go home,” I mutter under my breath during a few words of mixed chatter. “Now, there’s a fine idea.”

Easton turns his attention back to me, his eyes signifying he didn’t miss it. “So, you good?”

“Perfect, thanks for checking on me. I was really drunk.” I lift my sunglasses as his return stare hardens, keeping me from going further in trying to play off a single word I said. Because he’s still Easton, and he’ll never settle for anything less than brutal honesty. Nostrils flaring in irritation, his words from our honeymoon ring through as they have for endless months.

“Don’t ever hide from me. We’re as close as two people could ever be.”

My lungs decide in that moment that breath is no longer necessary as another bolt of lightning sears my chest. Desperate, I grapple with the feel, refuting the threatening sting in my eyes which are no longer concealed.

I. Hate. Mexico!

I couldn’t forget a single minute of him if I wanted to, and I’m almost positive I can remember every word we’ve ever exchanged. My cursed brain can’t even seem to short circuit a single recollection of my time with him, even after drinking my weight in tequila. Holly and Damon chat Easton up, and he converses with an easy timbre. When Easton goes still mid-chatter, I pause, shielding my eyes with my hand to see he’s focused on the gold chain secured around my waist. His flaring jades remain fixed on the glittering reminder for a few soul-stealing seconds before darting away. Freshly charred, I avert my own gaze, smoke no one else can see billowing from me as Damon speaks up. Tuning them out, I peruse Easton’s ribs, littered with more tattoos I don’t recognize, before finding the one I do. My heart swells as I visually trace the Chihuly design, which stands out easily amongst the others as I summarize our short love story with my thoughts.

Once upon a time, Elliot Easton Crowne was mine. He was mine, and we were as close as two people could ever be.

“Sorry, where?” Easton asks, diving back into the conversation as a splash sounds nearby in the pool.

“We’re going on one of the excursions the hotel offered. I had to reserve the whole thing, and it’s for six. You’re welcome to join us,” Damon offers, flashing me a subtle smirk that screams payback is a bitch . Instead of clawing his eyes out, I turn in my lounger and slap my bottle of sunblock in his hand. “Get my back, would you? My shoulders are burning.”

“I’ll have to check with Misty,” Easton hedges, “but I think we’re—”

“We’re what, babe?” Her voice chimes in, just as I turn my back, saving myself a few more seconds from the meet and greet, which is inevitable.

Damon leans in, massaging the lotion into my shoulders exaggeratedly. While he’s within earshot and as Holly introduces herself, I take my window to utter my threat. “Make sure to take a good look at the view today, Damon, because it’s your last,” I hiss from between my teeth, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The widening of his eyes, followed by his swallow, has me convinced he’s taking my threat seriously as I give him crazy eyes to relay the rest.

Thanks for volunteering, bestie. I’ll be taking every bit of this jacked situation out on you.

“Sounds fun,” Misty says with a notable amount of hesitation in her tone.

Pulling up my big girl panties, I turn and get my first look at my replacement. A dazzling, dripping wet replacement who’s got her hands folded on Easton’s shoulder. I mentally note her posture is natural—intimate—before I flick my eyes to hers.

“Hi,” I say, proud of myself for getting the greeting out without a trace of malice or a hint of the jealousy I feel.

“Hi, Natalie. Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Misty,” I reply, doing my best not to acknowledge she’s built like a supermodel and has the face and hair to match the body. Even her voice is attractive. I’m not allowed to hate her or her hand placement. My bare ring finger is a reminder of that.

“Okay, then, let’s do it,” Easton concedes, his eyes filled with apology for me, the pity in them pushing me closer to DEFCON 1.

We said we would try to be in each other’s lives, even if we were lying, because we both knew it would be hard. If we have any chance of that happening, this is what that chance looks like.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” I say with a shrug. “Why not?”

Misty’s eyes flit between Easton and me as I find myself speaking up to try and ease the crease of worry in her brow. “It really is nice to meet you, Misty,” I manage as a sign of good faith. “It’ll be fun,” I add as Holly and Damon whip their heads between the three of us.

A hint of a smile lifts Easton’s lips, and it’s not the good kind, but a recognizable call of bullshit.

I blame my emboldened speech on the lingering vodka because right now, I’m surprising the hell out of myself. Easton pulls his glasses down between pinched fingers. “Meet you in the lobby in two hours?”

“Perfect.”

Just after we exchange parting words, Easton and Misty retreat, and I lay back into the chair, feeling Holly and Damon’s gazes collide on me. Damon is the first to speak.

“Nat—”

“Listen to me,” I speak up. “Please listen to me,” I beg of them both. “He shut me down last night. I tried, and he cut me to the quick. I know,” my voice quakes with lingering emotion at the remembrance of our exchange and his ice-cold shoulder before I attempt to shove it in a box to unpack back in Texas. “I know what you’re trying to do, but if you really want to be there for me ,” I lower my glasses. “Do nothing. No plotting, no scheming, no more crazy best friend Hail Mary’s,” I direct the last part to Damon, “okay?”

They nod in sync, as if they’re watching a lit fuse drawing closer to a bomb.

“I’m okay, I think,” I inhale a calming breath. “It’s weird, but right now, I’m okay. I can handle this.”

“It’s going to be good,” Holly lies, and I dip my chin.

“She’s fucking smoking, Natalie, but she’s not you ,” Damon says in an effort to comfort me.

“Yeah, well, I’m not her ,” I say, wishing on a shooting star as he guides her by the hand, my hand , back to the other side of the pool.