Chapter 20 #2
Reassuring. Like he knows I’m about to pull the plug.
He gives me a small nod. I’ve got this.
I nod back.
I climb out first. Tom follows, guitar over his shoulder. I grab the cooler.
We walk side by side toward the palapa.
Tiffy staggers in our direction, nearly tripping over a rock.
Fuck.
So busy spiraling in my own head, I forgot the obvious. Barbecues come with Cuba Libres and Mojitos. Always.
Worst therapist of the year. Congratulations.
Tiffy kisses my cheek and squeezes me like we haven’t seen each other in months. It’s been maybe three days?
“Hey cupcake, I’ve missed you so much!”
My eyes shift to Tom. He’s standing just behind me, giving me a smug smile as I’m being squeezed like the lime in the same mojito she’s sipping.
Then she turns to him. I catch the slow flash of recognition, followed by disbelief.
“Oh my God. You’re Tom. Tom McKenna! What the hell, Yosh? You didn’t tell me!”
She slaps my arm and covers her mouth, trying not to scream.
“This is my best friend, Tiffany,” I say, gesturing between them. “And Tiff… this is Tom.”
She grabs Tom’s hand. “Hi! I’m Tiffany, but you can call me Tiffy. Everyone does. That’s my brother Shaylon, and that’s Naomi, my friend and coworker. We’re receptionists at the Emerald Beach Resort.The guy next to her, that’s Zion. Those people over there are his friends.”
She barely pauses to breathe, and she's still shaking his hand.
Definitely starstruck, or maybe she’s nervous because he’s one of Calvin’s best friends.
Had Tom been bracing himself for this moment? Because I sure am.
Part of me is rehearsing the apology for bringing him here, but then I look at him, and I watch him lighting up like a Christmas tree.
He slips back into the charm, the ease, the sparkle he kept caged at Arcadia. This morning, I’d mistaken it for a mask. Now I see it’s him, finally allowed to show up without being managed, without being punished by the past.
He takes Tiffy’s hand, says something that makes her laugh. Then, just like that, he’s mingling in the group like they are his close friends.
I scoff, my vision a little blurry as I watch him pull out his guitar. Within minutes, he has them all wrapped around his finger.
And, as I watch him step into full Tom McKenna mode, I can’t stop thinking about the man he is when it’s just him and me.
The one who lets himself fall apart and trusts me to be there with him when he does.
That’s the Tom I know. The one who rises after the fall.
Every day. Every night.
Silence after silence.
Tiffy joins me on the boulder and passes me a plate.
“Here. I saved the last piece of chicken for you. I know you don’t eat much red meat.”
Her eyes are on the group, just like mine. She smiles as she watches Tom teaching Shaylon a few chords on his guitar.
“So…Tom McKenna, huh?”
I drop my head into my hands, one thought racing through my mind.
What the hell am I doing?
“We went surfing today,” I start, my throat dry. “I took him to my house.”
I’ve never taken anyone there. Not Erin. Not even Tiffy. Showing someone my home has always felt too personal and exposed.
“Tiff, I’ve made such a mess.”
The subtle touch of her palm on my hand is reassuring.
“Honey, you’re going to get yourself hurt.”
I stare down at the mix of chicken, baked potato, and pickled cucumber in the bowl on my lap, poking at it with my fork. There's no way I’m eating. Everything inside me feels stuck.
She puts her arm around me, her lime green nails lightly scratching the skin on my shoulder.
“I wish things were different. I really do. The guy is a player. Calvin once told me Tom has girls for every single day of the week.”
Girls.
She nods toward the group. “Look at him.”
Tom is now surrounded by at least 30 people, playing an acoustic version of Little Lies by Fleetwood Mac. Everyone sings along.
“I get it. He’s handsome and charming. Of course you fell for him. He’s Tom McKenna. Everyone falls for him. And he...”
She looks away. “…he falls for everyone.”
All of a sudden, I don’t feel like talking anymore. I can’t tell if she’s giving me a harsh truth or if she's calling me naive.
Probably both.
Either way, I don't want to hear it, and trying to convince her this is different feels pointless.
Maybe I shouldn’t blame her. She only sees this version of him, not the one I see in the darkest hours of the night.
God, I sound completely love-blind right now.
Maybe she's right about one thing, it’s likely this will all come crashing down.
So perhaps the real question isn't whether he wants me. Maybe it's whether I'm willing to risk my heart, my career for this.
The answer is yes. Absolutely yes.
Tom walks over, laughing at something Zion just said. Our eyes meet and something in him changes. The laughter drains away, his face turning serious.
He goes to sit on the half-broken wall in front of me, knees touching.
“Are you okay?” he asks, searching my face like he knows there’s stuff I’m not saying.
I manage a small smile, brushing my hair back, letting the breeze do the rest.
His hand finds my knee, thumb sliding along the inside of my leg, slowly back and forth, challenging the edge of my control.
Tiffy’s eyes flick between us more than once. I shoot her subtle look.
You see? I’m not making this up.
“Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day,” I say. “We still have to drive all the way back to West Cove, so I was thinking we should head out soon.”
Tom nods, adjusting his guitar a little.
“I get it. Thanks for bringing me here. I’m having such a great time. It’s cool seeing a different side of Avalon, what your life looks like outside Arcadia. It feels good.”
His tongue skims the curve of his lower lip, leaving a faint sheen that catches the moonlight. I wish I hadn’t noticed as it sends warm pulses into places I’m trying very hard to ignore.
“We can stay a little longer if you want…”
The words fall out of my mouth, my marshmallow spine giving in, once again.
Tom smirks. “I get the feeling there’s a but.”
“We’re going back to my place tonight.”
Tiffy gives me another look. This one says: you’re playing with fire, and you know it.
Call it the heat. Call it the tropical night, call whatever you want. At this point, I don’t care. Destruction has never looked this good.
Tom leans back, dropping ice cubes into our cups, grinning like I just told him exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Sounds good,” he says, casual as hell.
We stay longer than planned, just talking and laughing like there’s no clock ticking. This whole time, I can feel the tension building.
It’s in the way he lets Tiffy talk, dropping the necessary “uhms,” “wow,” or “sounds wild” at the right moments.
While he listens, I catch him searching for contact the entire time.
When I rub my eyes, he takes it as his chance to ask if I’m tired, If I want to go.
And of course, I say yes.
Because I really, really want to take him to my place.