Reverse (Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

SEVENTY-THREE “One”

SEVENTY-THREE

“One”

U2

Natalie

“Y ou look beautiful,” Damon says, “really, Nat,” he assures before turning to Holly. “And you, especially.”

“Oh? Why am I special?” Holly asks, pinching her flowing sundress between her fingers, looking like she may curtsy.

This is just getting weird.

“You’ve always been special,” he presses a lingering kiss to her temple. Her eyes fly to mine as he turns toward the lobby, and I give her a wink.

“You really okay with this?” She asks me as Damon offers each of us an elbow, and we take it.

“I mean, my head’s been scrambling to catch up since last night, but yeah, I’m finally evening out. Enough to be civil. But Damon, you’re still going down.”

“You seem okay,” Holly offers, completely unconvinced before gesturing to my sundress. “And you really do look incredible.”

“Thank you.” I glance down at my powder blue halter dress, loving the look of the form-fitting bodice that accentuates my waist before it flows over my hips. My favorite part are the slits, which run clear up to the top of both my thighs. The silky material stops just short of my sandal laces which are tied in a crisscross pattern around my calves.

“If you want to bail,” Holly offers, “I’m game.”

“Holly,” Damon sighs as he pauses in the middle of the corridor, which stops us all. She releases Damon’s elbow and adamantly shakes her head.

“No, this feels wrong, this is wrong. You royally fucked up.” She glances over at me with concern. “Not that you would know anything about it,” she focuses accusing eyes on Damon, “but it really hurts to be in love with someone while forced to watch them hook up with someone else.”

“I would know,” he snaps in defense.

“Right,” she huffs dismissively. “Well then, you should know damn good and well that she shouldn’t have to spend a night hanging out with her gorgeous, world-famous ex-husband and his new girlfriend. What in the hell were you thinking?”

“Jesus,” Damon curses before looking between us apologetically. “I’m sorry, Nat. It was a stupid move. Say the word, and this ends right here.”

I think of my father in that moment and feel the full weight of the burden he’s had to endure himself, and I know a lot of his strength resides within me.

“I’ll be okay. Maybe they’ll make an excuse.”

Ironically, we find Easton and Misty waiting for us in the lobby. From the look on Easton’s face when he greets Holly and Damon, I expect an excuse to come, but I am surprised when he gives none. Just after successfully avoiding direct eye contact with Easton and Misty—while managing a cordial greeting—we file out of the hotel into a waiting SUV. An SUV with just enough room to accommodate all of us.

Once inside the car, I focus on Damon, or rather his hands, as he worries about the placement of them sitting next to Holly. My lips lift in amusement as our Casanova’s nerves get the best of him. He’s going to go for it.

“Okay, Damon, time to fess up. Where are we going?” Holly asks.

“Where else? A tequila distillery,” he replies, just before I leap for the SUV’s handle. Laughing, Damon wrestles me back into my seat as Holly’s dam bursts. I glare between them both after catching Easton pressing his lips together to stifle his own laugh.

“Worst best friends ever ,” I grit out as Damon winks.

“Oh no, what’s the tequila story?” Misty asks, looking between us all and apparently clueless as to exactly what went down last night.

“Funny you should ask,” Damon speaks up just as a demonic threat escapes me.

“Say another word, Damon. I love you, but you’re a man child, and if you continue down this path, I’m not above making you disappear— here . Plenty of unexplainable things happen past the border.”

“That bad, huh?” Misty says as Holly lets out a nervous bubble of laughter, looking between all of us.

“Not to add insult to injury,” Holly spouts, opening her luggage-sized drawstring vacation purse and pulling out a bottle of tequila. She braves a look my way as she passes out some plastic-wrapped cups. “Sorry, babe,” she winces adorably as Damon takes and opens the bottle, “it’s the only liquor they had in a plus-sized bottle in the gift shop.”

“It’s fine. When in Rome, right?” I hold my cup out, dazed and defeated by the past twenty-four hours as Holly free pours, while a full circle Mexican fiesta dances in my head. I just want it to stop. I want this to be over with. With that in mind, I can’t help but glance around, reading the expressions of all who’ve agreed to this disastrous waste of a day while inhaling and exhaling the uncomfortable air circulating throughout the cabin.

It’s then I have a small epiphany.

Oh, life, you funny, inconsiderate, untimely motherfucker.

Full circle is right.

In the midst of this nightmarish situation, I realize it’s how our parents must have felt when we were just as reckless with their history, discarding it like it didn’t matter as we selfishly basked in our happiness. What’s worse is that at some point, we expected them to be okay with it.

Even if they found their happily ever afters, I can’t imagine ever being okay watching Easton happily move on with another woman—as I’m forcing myself to do now.

This is exactly what we would have pressured them into doing—putting on airs, trying their hardest to put their past away as they toasted us. This is the hell we would have subjected them to on every special occasion. Though our stories and endings—well,

my ending—is far different from theirs, the dynamic is still the same, and frankly, it fucking sucks.

“I get it,” I spout ironically as everyone brings their cups up to toast.

“Get what, babe?” Holly asks as all eyes pin me quizzically.

“All of it,” I manage through a laugh, “but fuck it, Viva La Vida!” I tap glasses with all of them, looking them directly in the eyes as I was taught, in order to avoid bad luck. I make a point to do it, knowing I can’t possibly survive any more. We all toss the spicy liquor back right after toasting, save one jade-eyed man. A man who returns my lingering eye contact with a rapidly hardening gaze of his own before slowly lifting his cup and tossing back his shot. Breaking eye contact when Holly prompts me for my cup to refill it, I decline. I opt to stare out of the window at the landscape. I’ll be serving the rest of my time, my sentence , in Mexico— sober .

After walking through endless oversized barrels, and spending hours learning about a liquor I now despise, I lift my camera and take a panoramic view of my surroundings. While everyone else seems sufficiently buzzed from the tasting, I’ve just eaten my weight in tacos. Damon, being the generous bastard he is, added a romantic sunset buffet for the five of us at the end of our tour.

Because slaughtered hearts have to eat too, right?

The distillery provided the most spectacular view to dine at with its cliffside location. The patio is surrounded by similar rocky cliffs, and in the distance, an ample view of the ocean to watch the descent of the sun. Our candle-lit round top sits on a beautifully paved deck full of empty tables. We seem to be the only group who opted for the top-notch buffet and romantic atmosphere tonight—which pairs perfectly with the irony bouncing around us.

The vibe is surprisingly chill, with Spanish guitar music crooning softly out of nearby speakers. Our overly attentive catering staff continues to change out the buffet trays with fresh eats every few minutes as though they’re serving royals. I, myself, dined like a queen eating her feelings while keeping my focus averted from the man sitting across the table. Feeling somewhat safe in my chair now, Damon serves as our buffer while Misty vapes, chatting with Holly next to the waist-high brick wall encasing the patio. I tune out of Easton and Damon’s exchange while praying for the minutes of this sentence to tick out. Feeling somewhat confident that I’m going to get through the last of it unscathed, my safety is abruptly ripped from me when Damon excuses himself to answer a call. Ignoring my pleading eyes, holding a finger up to the two of us, he leaves Easton and me alone at the table.

As he walks back toward the distillery for privacy, I decide Damon is an Olympic-level Judas in the best friend department. I will be informing him of his update in status as soon as I have the opportunity . Having already spent most of my day facing as much of this reality as I can withstand, I look over to Easton to engage him, instead of shying away from conversation. I find his eyes already focused curiously on me as the sun begins its descent, tinting the sky in various hues of pink and red.

“Not so horrible, right?” I speak up while snapping another photo. “This view is—”

“What do you get?” Easton cuts me off abruptly, his tone biting.

“Pardon?” I ask, texting a picture of our view to Dad.

“Don’t play ignorant. You know exactly what I’m asking. Put the phone down and tell me what you get , Natalie.”

My eyes widen as he kicks back in his seat, his delivery far too hostile for casual conversation. Though his posture is relaxed, the look in his eyes tells me he’s anything but.

“Fine. I get that we married our parents into this very type of situation.”

“I fucking knew it,” he scoffs.

“Knew what?”

“That you were justifying our divorce.”

“Never that,” I sip my water.

“No? Sure seems like it. Newsflash , Natalie. Plenty of people get along with their exes for the sake of their children.” He tosses his napkin on his plate, the leather cuff fastened around his wrist keeping the majority of my focus before I take him in fully—something I’ve deprived myself of since we met up hours ago. His thick hair, which is definitely a few inches longer, hangs just above the collar of his dark blue linen button-down.

“I would say ours was a much different situation, but I’m not entirely disagreeing with you. Even so, there’s no point in arguing about it since it’s been put to bed, right?”

He scoffs. “Sure has, Sleeping Beauty .”

“Hey, hey ,” I speak up in defense, “I’m just as uncomfortable as you are, but we don’t have to turn on each other.”

“That’s always been your angle, hasn’t it, Natalie? Putting everyone else’s feelings first.”

“Don’t,” I warn in a harsh whisper. “I was just trying to find some meaning in the situation. It’s ironic and probably a little deserved, considering. You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”

“Yeah, well, maybe tequila brings out the worst in me,” he snaps, grabbing his rocks glass and tossing some back. “Or maybe it’s you. ”

“Easton, please put your weapons away. We’re leaving soon.” I glance around uneasily to see our rapidly heating exchange unnoticed. “I fly home in two days, but I can make an early exit, if that’s what you’ve decided you want.”

“Maybe you should,” his expertly thrown dagger lands squarely in my chest. “Yeah, Natalie, that’s what I want.”

A three-alarm fire begins to roar in my throat as he presses in.

“Oh, sorry, did that hurt?”

“Like hell,” I admit. “Happy?”

“Sure,” he spouts dryly.

“Well, that’s all I want for you.”

“Jesus,” he rakes an impatient hand through his hair, hazel eyes drilling unforgivingly. “You really just talk at people , don’t you?”

“You loved that about me once.”

“No, that’s the one thing I couldn’t take about you. You’ve got immaculate perception about everyone that comes into your life, but play completely fucking blind on the perception to help yourself.”

“I’m wide awake, Easton, and bullseye accurate on my perceptions of you. I don’t need help knowing what’s good for me.”

“No, you’re beyond that,” he fires back before projecting his voice. “Come on, Misty. We’re leaving.”

“Five more minutes,” she replies, oblivious, before diving back into conversation with Holly.

I can’t help my snort. “She seems really attuned to you . Congratulations.”

“Don’t be petty.”

“Then don’t be a prick!” I whisper-yell, before tempering myself. “Look, I’m sorry if this situation is upsetting you. I don’t want this to get ugly.”

“Of course, you’re sorry. God forbid, you have one selfish fucking moment where the whole of your sentiments can ring true.”

“I’m all too painfully aware of the mistakes I’ve made, Easton. I wanted to tell you last night, but you didn’t want to hear me.”

He tosses back the rest of his drink and pushes his chair back to stand.

“You didn’t want a divorce.”

His eyes snap to mine.

“The day you came to me with the book, you wanted me to stop it. I didn’t ask why you hadn’t signed because I was too wrapped up in my pain and residual anger to realize we were still married , but you knew that. You wanted me to stop you. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Slowly easing back down into his chair, he hooks an elbow over the back of it. “What’s the point?”

“The point is that I’m not asleep, not playing immune, or ignorant—but you are, and have been since you saw me last night. You don’t want my truth, and I know why. You’re scared of it, and trust me, the more we confirm it, it scares me too.”

His nostrils flare in annoyance, but I press in, my aching chest rattling with awareness that I may never get this chance again.

“I get why you’re doing it, and I know it’s my fault, and that hurts like hell.” I swallow. “I know my own apology is long overdue, but hey,” I shrug. “I’m just taking a page from your ruthless and blunt playbook because let’s face it, you’re still

you, and I’m still me. You’re being a hypocrite right now, because you still seem to think being brutally honest is the best damned way to handle every situation, but you don’t want mine anymore. Tell me why, Easton.”

His expression turns to stone. “You were drunk.”

“I haven’t had a drop in five hours, so let’s test your theory, shall we?”

He searches my expression, his own wary. “Natalie—”

“Call me Beauty ,” I snap, eyes watering, “I prefer it because that’s who you’re talking to, or rather who you’re refusing to listen to.”

His shifts uncomfortably as I resign myself.

“Here’s a newsflash for you , Easton. Despite your beliefs, brutal honesty is not the best way to conduct yourself in every situation. It’s not the bravest way, either. There’s a difference between being brave —ready to face and endure danger or pain, and inappropriate —which means not suitable or proper in the circumstances .” I lift my chin defiantly. “But I’m trying to be brave in lieu of inappropriate because inappropriate would be confessing that I’m still wholly, unconditionally, and definitively

in love with you while you’re on a romantic getaway in Mexico with your girlfriend!”

Easton’s nostrils flare as all heads start to turn our way. Battered heart spurring me on, I mentally glove up.

“You want truth? You want brutal honesty? The truth is, for the last two days, I’ve been sitting on the beach drowning in the realization that while loving you helped me recognize my worst fear, losing you left me living in it. Any life I live without you now will feel like settling.” Fear for what I’m doing threatens, but I push through it as Easton stares back at me, his stoic expression unforgiving. In the past it would have intimidated me, but I know better.

“Do you think I didn’t know what I was giving up when I let you go? I’ve been brave , Easton. Brave enough to face and endure the pain and the knowledge that I lost the thing with you that made me feel the most alive. I’ve braved every day knowing I should never have let you drive away that night without telling you that I love you, that I’m sorry , and that I wish I would have done so many things differently. And I’ll regret it tomorrow, the day after, and after that for the rest of my fucking life—that’s bravery !”

Holly harshly whispers my name from beside me, tugging on my arm before I rip it free. Twin tears spill from my eyes which remain bolted on Easton.

“ Inappropriate would be confessing I never slept with that quarterback because you were the last man to touch me intimately and are the only man I’ll ever want to again . . . because despite everything that’s happened, I’ve remained faithful!”

Easton’s eyes widen slightly as I smack the table and lean forward.

“So, you can keep on pretending that it’s no longer there between us, but you and I both know the love we feel—that we’ve always felt—isn’t going anywhere. As you’ve said all along, our parents’ story isn’t ours. But in one major way it is— because like theirs, our love is timeless ,” my voice cracks on that truth because it’s the hardest to bear. “So, if you want my silence, you’re going to have to earn it with your first lie to me and tell me that I’ve got it all wrong.”

Unbearably thick tension brews as silence hangs in the air until a muffled cry cuts through it. Easton’s eyes hold me hostage as Misty races toward the building, a hand clamped over her mouth.

“Oh, look,” I jerk my head in her direction, and Easton’s guilt-ridden eyes follow. “There goes another casualty of Easton’s brutal honesty policy. I just hurt her with it. Is that selfish enough for you?”

Easton lowers his eyes, a curse leaving him as he cups his jaw.

“Natalie, you’re making a scene,” Damon hisses next to me as I palm the table to keep myself upright.

“Oh, but he deserves it,” I rasp out with sincerity as Easton’s eyes slam back into mine, a thousand emotions running through them as I allow him to see every crack in my exterior. “He deserves it, Damon, because he deserves a woman who’s just as protective of him and of his heart. A woman who will fight just as hard for him as he did for her.” My tears blind me briefly before I blink them free to see Easton devouring every word of the revelations pouring freely from my lips. I choke on a sob before I go completely blind to my surroundings. “I’m so sorry,” I croak. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like anything less to me than my supernova . . . and you should know the only thing I’ve ever despised about you, Elliot Easton Crowne, is your last fucking name.”

“That’s enough, Nat!” Damon hooks his arm around my waist in an attempt to drag me away.

Overcome with emotion, I turn and crumble in Damon’s arms. He sweeps me firmly into his grip as I bury my head into his neck, sobbing while he carries me away. Within seconds, I’m whisked into the SUV as Damon barks at the driver to go. Cradled in his hold, I unleash my hurt as we speed away while Damon begs me to forgive him.