14
Twenty minutes later, we’re back in the cabana, which has been set up with a private lunch with lobster Nicoise salad, truffle Wagyu sliders, and more champagne.
“Why don’t you put them on?” Flynn asks, gesturing at the earrings.
“Um”—I stare at the box I’ve propped under the little fig Christmas tree—“I don’t want them to get ruined in the ocean.”
“Nah, they’re not going to get ruined with a little salt water. And I can always buy you another pair.”
A submarine ping sounds from his Apple Watch, interrupting the conversation and blessedly giving me an excuse not to answer. He tsks as he checks the screen.
“Sorry, I gotta take this,” he says, before ambling off down the beach.
While he talks, I munch on some shrimp cocktail, enjoying the sweet and tangy cocktail sauce. Sure, I’d rather be snacking on Mom’s crispy lumpia rolls, but this is excellent.
He’s still pacing the beach, glued to his phone when I finish eating.
It’s a holiday, and here he is stuck making work call, poor guy.
It’s nice that he’s passionate about what he does, and that he’s doing all this to help support and build a charity that’s really important to me, too.
What he does—what we do—really can make a difference in people’s lives.
I shuck off my flip-flops and cover-up and step out onto the beach, walking through the low surf, letting it gently touch my toes.
A couple of other people are out on the beach now, some sunbathing and splashing in the waves. Another person is riding a buggy around in the distance.
I might as well enjoy this gorgeous space while I can, even if Flynn is working. I wade into the water and dive neatly into the waves.
I float on my back, watching the fluffy clouds fly by. The white puffs make me think of white snow and my family back home for Christmas. I imagine what they did after we hung up our call. Christmas Eve means that every family member is allowed to open one gift.
Mom will get her annual lotion and soap gift set. What holiday scent did my siblings cook up this year? My nieces and nephews will open their gifts with joy.
I’ve lost myself in pleasant thoughts of my family when something firm wraps around my ankle and tugs. I yelp and frantically flap my arms so my head doesn’t dunk underwater. Flynn laughs, then releases my ankle.
“Got you!” He bounces in the waves grinning at me, and he’s so goofy and cute I can’t even bring myself to be mad at him.
Instead, I lunge after him. He laughs again and continues to flail away from me until I catch up to him on the shore, the water just covering our feet.
“You could spend an entire afternoon on the phone,” I tease, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Or we could check out that hot tub on our terrace at the villa?” I picture the two of us in the stone bath overlooking the sea and taking our sweet time with each other.
“That sounds like a good idea,” he murmurs, leaning close. But before his lips touch mine, he jolts back, staring down at his wrist in alarm. “Wait, my watch is gone!”
I stare at the spot on his wrist where the watch usually sits, the tan line stark on his skin. My stomach sinks. As rich as he is, Flynn is extra when it comes to his possessions. I can’t imagine that has changed over the years since we dated.
“Where did you see it last?” I ask, trying to keep calm as he scans the shoreline, cursing under his breath.
“When I was on the phone.” His face has gone white. “Then I swam over here.”
I wince. “Do you think it fell off into the ocean?”
“I hope not.” His voice wavers, which means he’s really upset. “That watch was a special edition, I can’t lose it.”
“How about we split up,” I suggest. “I’ll scan the area around here, while you head back to where you started swimming. Maybe we can spot it in the water.”
He closes his eyes like he’s trying to compose himself.
“All right.” He sets off back in the direction he came. There are a couple of people splashing in the surf; we can always ask them to be on the lookout for his watch, too.
“We’ll find it!” I encourage as I sink to my knees in the water, scanning the sandy seafloor for a glint of Flynn’s watch, but all I can seem to find is smooth rocks and seaweed.
As the waves crash, I watch the direction the seaweed is being pulled by the current and figure if anything washes up, it’ll be in that direction.
I comb through the surf, kicking back toward our cabana.
Just as I’m losing hope, a bright sparkle catches my attention a few feet away.
And a small silver object that has been brought ashore tangled in some seaweed shines in the sunlight.
Hope rises in my chest. Flynn’s watch has a silver band.
I race toward the object and shriek with relief when my hand clamps around the solid form of his Apple Watch.
It’s a Christmas miracle. I scoop up the watch, feeling a surge of anticipation coursing through my veins. Flynn is going to be so happy. And maybe now we can hit that hot tub after all.
I twist to see where he is and make out just the faintest outline of his body down the shore. Wow, he got far.
I raise my arm to flag him when a submarine ping fills the air. Despite being lost on the wet surf, his watch is still working. I glance at the face and do a double take when I see the message:
MC: Merry Christmas from Mrs Claus
Next comes in a photo of a super sexy girl in nothing but a Santa hat and red lingerie.
Who the hell is this? My heart races as another notification pings his phone. It’s the same girl, just in a different pose, with even less covering her gorgeously curvy body.
My fingers shake as I scroll up through their texts, and they go way back. Mostly flirty messages and pictures. So many pictures. My eyes are burning from the sight and the sudden rush of tears.
This is exactly like the first time he cheated on me. I can’t believe it’s happened again. I can’t believe I trusted him.
I should’ve known better. How did I not know better?
It gets worse when I click out of his messages with MC to find there are other girls, too. All in tiny outfits.
This can’t be happening. It’s supposed to be my perfect Christmas Eve. My head gets light and the world starts to swirl around me. It’s hard to breathe. I suddenly feel so trapped here on this giant beach, miles from anyone else I care about in the world.
I stumble back toward our cabana.
I need to get out of the sun.
I need a cold glass of water.
I need someone who isn’t going to hurt me.
My phone is in my beach bag, and I click it on desperately, ignoring the message from Juliet asking HOW DID IT GO?
! I can’t talk to her right now. Scrolling through my call history I find bestie <3 and stab the name with a shaking finger.
My chest loosens a little as the line begins to ring.
In a moment I’ll hear Olivia’s voice, and she’ll make me feel better.
“Hey, you,” a guy says cheerily.
I stare at my phone to make sure I dialed the right number because this is not Olivia. But it’s not a stranger. I’d recognize that warm, steady voice anywhere.
“Robbie?” I ask. “Is that you?”
He chuckles. “Nope, it’s Johnny’s Pizza. May I take your order?”
My cheeks burn, but I can’t help cracking a smile at this reference to one of the pizza parlors we used to play pranks on. After I got busted, he still answered the phone like this all through high school just to rub it in.
Wait, does this mean Robbie is my bestie in this alternate future? We must have made up after the Evening Star Tavern and kept in touch. At some point I renamed his contact. I grip my phone, happy to talk with a friend.
“So,” he says into my silence, “I take it you saw my email?”
I frown. “Email?”
“About the song,” he explains. “That’s why you’re calling?”
“Which one is that?” I ask, confused.
“Sounds like Flynn’s been keeping you busy in paradise.” Robbie chuckles. “Listen, I liked your lyrics; I just thought we could work on the chorus a bit.”
“We’re working on a song together?” This version of me is too busy with Flynn’s charity to get her speech therapy license, but at least she’s writing. I guess that’s a good thing.
“It’s only a song if you agree to sing it for me.” He laughs again. “I think you’ve got something here. Now I’m just waiting to get you in the studio. But we can talk about it later. I want to hear about you! How is paradise with your dream guy?”
I open my mouth to explain, but all that comes out is a giant sob.
“Whoa, Marygrace.” Robbie’s voice loses all its playfulness. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Flynn,” I say through choked tears. “I think he might be cheating again.”
He curses under his breath. “Let’s switch to video,” he says.
I nod and turn on the camera. I’m relieved to see his familiar face.
He looks about the same as last Christmas, but his hair is a little longer.
He’s standing outside, wearing a matching knit cap and scarf, and his cheeks are red from the cold.
I spot the Hopewell Crossing Christmas tree behind him, and suddenly I feel like I’m also standing in my hometown talking to him.
The effect is instantly comforting. “Okay, I’m listening,” he says.
“I saw pictures of girls on his Apple Watch,” I say. “He’s been texting with them, exchanging sexy photos.”
Last time, I caught Flynn with a barista named Ellie from my favorite coffee shop.
I should’ve known something was up after she started spending extra time making shapes in my foam like an apology.
He was always a flirt, and he was always getting constant attention.
I just never thought he would actually act on any of it.
Now I know better.
Robbie whistles. “You sure it wasn’t spam?”
“Yes.” I sniffle. “A few of those messages were very specific. Those girls know Flynn’s tastes.”
“I’m sorry, Marygrace. I know it looks fucking awful, but you don’t know if he’s actually done anything with these girls…”