Chapter 28
Georgia
“So, what exactly are we doing today?” I raise an eyebrow as I scan the faces of my three gorgeous boyfriends.
They’re grinning ear to ear, and I can’t decide if they’re being mischievous or sweet.
Or maybe both?
The Key West morning sun beats down on our heads.
“Don’t you worry about it, little peach. You’re in comfortable attire, like we requested, you look stunning as ever, and it’s going to be a great day. The rest is for us to worry about it,” Emmett says.
I stare at all of them for a moment longer, tempted to keep pushing, but then give it up.
At some point, I guess I just have to decide to trust them.
My phone vibrates in my purse as I follow the three of them off the ship, and I pull it out, ignoring the little pang of anxiety that now I swear is permanently attached to it.
But it’s just Daisy.
Daisy: You do know we eventually are going to have to catch up.
I heart the text and then type back a quick reply.
Me: I’ll be back in NYC in two days. I promise we can talk then!
She sends back a string of emojis that make me laugh before I shove the phone back into my purse. I’ve spent my whole freaking life trying to justify myself to others, and I’m done doing that. Now, I’m just going to live it.
“Oh, good, our ride’s already here,” Emmett says. “It pays to have connections.”
“And a big wallet,” Miles chuckles, popping open the back passenger door of the SUV for me. I slide into the middle seat with Miles and Emmett flanking me on either side, and Brody climbs into the front.
He gives the driver directions that I strain to hear but can’t, and we pull out of the marina. Brody then turns in the seat to face me. “Today is going to be amazing. I promise. Then, we’re all jetting back to New York to start the real fun.”
“So this isn’t the real fun?” I test him, narrowing my eyes. “I can’t decide if that’s concerning or not.”
He just chuckles and turns back around in his seat. I sit quietly for what’s only a ten-minute ride, and then the driver pulls over.
We're barely out of the SUV before Emmett spots the bike rental stand, eyes lighting up like a child in a candy store. “Part one of this day is a group ride. Let's go!” he crows, and within minutes, we’re all awkwardly straddling our respective two-wheeled personalities.
Emmett goes for the speed demon, some sort of carbon-fiber thing with racing stripes and pedals that look like they were designed to snap your ankles.
Miles chooses the next most intimidating option, a slate-grey mountain bike with enough gears to launch a moon mission.
Brody, despite all his brooding, picks a beach cruiser, but it’s brand new and matte black, so it still feels like an extension of his closet.
I get the only one left in my size—a turquoise Schwinn with a cream-colored seat and a huge, ridiculous wicker basket strapped to the front.
“It’s like you stole that from a basket-weaving grandmother," Emmett teases me, grinning as I get on my gleaming dinosaur of a bike.
“You know… jealousy is not a good color for you,” I shoot back, shaking my head so my hair flares out like a banner behind me. The air is warm and the breeze feels wonderful and, honestly, everything about this is totally perfect.
We set out down Duval Street together, weaving past sunburnt tourists in Hawaiian shirts and street vendors hawking T-shirts, shell bracelets, insulated cups that promise to keep your daiquiri cold until next Tuesday. The town pulses with music, laughter, and it’s something right out of a movie.
Our movie, that is. I don’t think dating three of your dad’s friends at the same time is a common romcom trope though.
“First stop, souvenirs!” Emmett suddenly veers hard right, nearly taking out an elderly couple on a tandem. “We’ve yet to load up on that. It’s like a vacay tradition.”
“Last time I got a souvenir on vacation, it was mono,” Miles says under his breath, but he's the first to park his bike and follow Emmett into the shop, which is called The Conch Republic Emporium and seems to specialize in items that are either hot pink, shaped like marine life, or both.
And I won’t lie, as gaudy as it is, I kind of like it.
I leave my bike half-tipped against a palm tree and follow them inside, Brody at my elbow. Shelves spill over with keychains shaped like flip-flops, shot glasses covered in glitter, and T-shirts with dumb slogans.
“Do people actually buy this stuff?” I ask, picking up a bobblehead of Ernest Hemingway in sunglasses and board shorts. Apparently, he used to live here.
“Only if they're too drunk to know better,” Brody murmurs, but when I look over, he's holding a miniature snow globe with a shrimp wearing a pirate hat inside. He puts it back on the shelf before I can tease him about it.
Miles and Emmett are already at the counter, arguing over which of the two coconut monkey statues is more lifelike. Emmett wins, obviously, but only because he threatens to smuggle it into my carry-on if I veto his choice.
Oh my god. This is my life now.
Back on the street, we pedal south. We pass a henna tattoo stand, a bakery with a line out the door, and a man in a banana costume advertising something some bar.
“Next stop,” Emmett announces, standing on his pedals and turning to face us as he rides, “the hat shop!”
“Is that a thing?” I laugh breathlessly, but sure enough…
It is. And it’s even worse than the gift shop.
Inside, the clerk—a girl with purple hair—waves us in with a cheery, “Let me know if you want to try anything on.”
Miles immediately grabs a Panama hat, sets it on his head, and does his best Miami Vice pose. It would be dignified if he hadn’t chosen one with a fluorescent pink band.
“That's a good look for you,” I tell him. “You could win a lot of cases if you wore that.”
“You think?” He turns to the side, then back, surveying himself in the mirror with clinical detachment.
“Positively menacing,” Brody says, giving us both a weird look.
Emmett ends up in a Stetson three sizes too small and prances around the shop like a deranged rodeo clown, making everyone—including the clerk—crack up. I try on a floppy sun hat with a brim so wide I can barely see.
I tip it over one eye, wiggling my brows at Brody. “How do I look?”
He glances up and then grins. “You look incredible. Big hat or not. I’m buying that.”
I snort, but his gaze doesn’t flicker. “It’s fifty bucks,” I whisper, as if the price is a dirty little secret.
“So?”
“So that's more than I paid for my last three pairs of shoes combined. I can't justify—”
He plucks the hat off my head, steps to the counter, and hands over his card before I can protest.
“Did you seriously just—”
“Consider it your souvenir,” he says, and when I catch up to him, he’s already strapping the hat to my basket, his hands lingering on mine.
“It's so extra,” I complain, crinkling my nose. “I’ll never wear it.”
“But you’ll remember it every time you see it in the closet,” he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “And that’s what matters. Now,” he turns to the guys as they join us. “We need to start the rest of our afternoon.”
I tilt my head at him. “There’s more?”
He grins—and this time I’m certain it’s mischievous. “Oh, honey, this was just the introduction.”
I laugh, my heart skipping a few beats, as I give in to the craziness. “Well, okay then. Onward, we go.”
He kisses me once more. “That’s my good girl.”
The stone archway flanked by torches is massive. The name on the metal entryway sign reads Solace.
I squint, trying to read the bottom few words, but miss it as the Tahoe whips around the circular drive.
Emmett whistles. “Brody, you baller. You would pick the nicest fucking place ever.”
Brody rolls his eyes and then grins at me. “C’mon, Georgie.”
My jaw drops as we make our way inside. I take in the high arched ceilings, fountains with rippling water, and air scented with eucalyptus and orange blossoms. We’re greeted by a stunning woman in a spa uniform.
She ushers us into a lounge complete with swimsuits and robes so plush I want to steal one and take it home.
“Please, follow me,” says the woman, who introduces herself as Jade.
As we walk down the hall, the spa seems to be completely empty except for us. I whisper to Emmett, “Did Brody buy out the entire spa?”
Emmett leans in. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
I roll my eyes, but the moment we pass through the frosted doors, all my sass disappears when I see the gorgeous room.
There is a string of therapy pools, each set up to either calm or shock your nervous system. The first is a shallow, sky-blue infinity pool with warm salt water. Steam rises in waves, and the light off the water is so bright I have to squint.
Jade gestures to the benches that line the pool. “Your first plunge, please. Relax for ten minutes.”
Miles strips down to his navy swim trunks in two seconds flat. He glances at me and grins, totally unbothered by the fact that we’re basically in a very freaking expensive spa ad right now.
Emmett and Brody are right behind, revealing their broad, perfectly-muscled chests. I slip out of my robe and slide into the pool, “Damn, it’s hot—” but my body adjusts quickly, flooding my limbs with endorphins.
Brody sits next to me on the submerged bench, arm draped casually along the edge. “I figured we could all use a little decompression before heading north again.”
Miles sinks into my other side, stretching out his long legs. “This is so decadent,” he sighs, eyelids closing.
Emmett doesn’t even sit—he just floats, star-fished, eyes closed, like he’s in a sensory deprivation tank.
I finally allow myself to close my own eyes and let myself melt. All the tension of the past week, the family drama, the ugly confrontations, the old memories—it all just drains out, replaced by a lovely, floaty sense of being exactly where I’m supposed to be.
After ten minutes, Jade reappears. “Your next pool awaits. Please follow the blue tiles.”