Chapter 12
Ibuild rockets for a living. Surely I can go one weekend without letting Remi get to me. There isn’t anything she can do that will break me. I’m a man on a mission, a man who’s going to prove to her that I’m so over us. I’m bringing my A-game. She’s the one who’s going to be wishing we were back together.
Not me.
I’m not getting another ‘you poor thing’ look again.
I kick off my flip-flops and step into the sand. Remi’s already on the beach, skimming her toes into the rolling waves. She’s wearing my favorite pink bikini.
Really?
Did she have to bring the one swimsuit she knows drives me crazy? She has, like, twelve other ones. She’s not even playing fair.
What we really need right now are some life jackets to cover everything up.
Or maybe a wetsuit.
Water preparation is key.
Since there aren’t any around, I’m going to have to stick to the plan. Per Tessa’s advice, I feign disinterest and glance away.
This is war, baby.
I’m aloof.
Distracted.
Women hate that.
And I will not look back. I don’t know how they do it, but women always know when a man checks them out. Not today, Remi.
“We’re waiting for the hotel guide to give us some instructions on sailing,” Jana says, pointing at the row of catamarans on the beach.
“There he is!” Reece’s mom, Deb, steps forward, hugging me. “We’re so glad you made it.”
“It’s good to see you,” I say.
We go through the rest of the introductions. There are Maggie and Sarah, the college roommates. They seem normal. Then, there are Jana’s parents, Doug and Jolene; her brother, Cobie; and his new girlfriend, Lissy. She’s sporting a white bikini that barely covers the body parts typically covered by a swimsuit.
Reece comes over to my side. “Have you ever been sailing on a small catamaran before?”
“Nah, but I’m sure I can figure it out.” My eyes shift back to Remi in the water. I know I said I wouldn’t look at her, but that swimsuit is a chink in my armor. She’s standing on the beach, talking to someone. “Who’s that guy?”
Reece follows my gaze. “Matt, you’re a guy. That is a man.”
“Yes, but who is he?”
“I think he works for the hotel. I saw him teaching water yoga this morning.”
It wouldn’t be a big deal, except for the fact that Water Yoga Man looks like Fabio on steroids.
My jaw hardens as he lifts his arm and flexes his bicep. Who does that? Who shows a stranger their volleyball-sized muscles? I watch as Remi grips his bicep and squeezes. I might have just thrown up in my mouth.
Then, suddenly, the shirtless man lies down in the sand.
I panic. “What’s he doing?”
“I’m not sure.”
Remi turns around so her back is facing him. Fabio’s feet go to the small of her back and butt. Her body curves over, and instantly, she’s arched upside down, balancing on him in some sort of yoga pose.
“Oh boy,” Reece says.
The guy’s hands go to her shoulders for support, and she grabs her ankles, making a circle with her body. Who does couples yoga on the beach with someone they just met? Is this part of Remi’s war? Because if it is, it’s working. I’m exploding with jealousy. Couples yoga was kind of our thing, and now she’s doing it with Fabiyoga.
I’m a fidgeting mess as I watch her giggle upside down.
I don’t like it.
“You’ve got to stop this,” I say to Reece.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Fabio loses his balance and drops Remi. She lands on his chest and lies there for a moment, laughing. He’s laughing and touching, trying to get her back up into the pose. It’s all too much. I’m not a possessive guy, but dude! Fabio needs to keep his hands to himself.
“Get her out of there,” I snap.
“How?” Reece takes a step forward like he’s unsure what to do.
“I don’t know. Are you my best friend or not?”
“I’m your best friend.”
I wave him forward. “Then get her out of there.”
They switch positions, and Remi’s staring into his eyes as he tries to push her up with his feet, airplane style. I’m familiar with that pose.
I rake a hand through my hair. “I don’t care what you have to do. Drain the ocean!”
Reece takes off, and I pace back and forth, watching as he calls to her. “Uh, Remi? We need you over here for the sailing demonstration.”
Fabiyoga lets her down, and she rolls to her feet, waving goodbye to him. Then, her eyes turn to me.
She’s such a little punk.
I’m not the only one who’s bringing my A-game this weekend.
I rub my forehead.
My blood pressure is through the roof, and this war has only just begun.