Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
TRISTAN
When I wake the next morning, it’s still dark outside. Lexi is curled up on her side of the bed with her back to me. There’s no Great Wall of Goose Down, but it isn’t necessary. I fucked up last night.
I drag my hands over my face with a slow exhale. I hurt her by walking away five years ago, but if I’d given in to what we both wanted, the hurt would have been so much worse. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I was older, more mature. I had to be the one to draw the line.
But last night…I should’ve stayed. I should’ve taken her in my arms and held her close until she fell asleep.
That would have ironed out the last of our past’s creases, but instead, I walked away.
Again. By the time I got back—two hours later because I had to be sure Lexi was asleep—I could avoid any further intimacy.
My original scruples no longer stand in our way.
I can let Lexi enjoy her game and play by her rules.
Based on the way she phrased it, it seems this is only about sex for her.
I like a good hook-up as much as any other guy, because there are no expectations of it ever being more than I can give: a good time with some hot-as-fuck memories when we’re done.
Except, for me, Lexi will never be hook-up material.
I care too much about her. And with her, it will always be much more than mere physical intimacy.
Plus, there’s another layer to the problem: this isn’t exactly a hook-up situation.
Last night we cleared the air about what happened years ago, but somehow it only twisted the tension between us tighter.
Lexi thinks she’ll be calling the shots, with things being game over, no regrets or expectations when we’re done here. But I wasn’t being flippant when I said I don’t want anybody to get hurt.
That anybody would be me.
For a long, painful minute, I focus on her breathing. At least she got a good night’s rest. With the wedding on her doorstep, she’s going to need it.
As quietly as possible, I slip from the bed and get myself ready.
When I head out for my run, I pause to make sure I’m hearing right.
Lexi is snoring. It’s soft and so cute. She’s like a kitten, all sweet and cozy.
I want to stare a moment longer, but I leave her be, as staying only eats at my resolve to keep away from her.
After last night, Lexi would probably be feral if I woke her with an unsolicited morning kiss.
When I return, she’s gone like every other morning.
After a quick shower and breakfast at the staff canteen, I don’t head straight to the dive center but instead make my way to the office to check on her.
“Tristan.” Jem quirks an eyebrow as I walk inside.
Lexi looks up, frowning to see me here, so off script. We’re back on stage, and with Jem’s eyes on us, I’m going to have to play my role, which seems even more duplicitous and complicated than before.
“Jem,” I say in greeting as I walk over to where Lexi’s sitting behind her desk.
“Babes.” I lean in as she swivels in her office chair and looks up, surprise widening her eyes.
I block any further movement with my hand on the back of her chair.
“Feeling better than yesterday?” I ask, keeping her trapped so we can have this private word.
“You don’t need to ask—”
“But I want to know, so I can look out for you.”
“I’m fine,” Lexi says. And there it is, that sweet blush she has zero control over. “That’s a one-day thing.”
“Good.” I pull away, but don’t let go of the chair, crowding her with my body for Jem’s sake.
Lexi clears her throat, searching my face. “Good run?”
“Yeah.” I smile at her and straighten, but watch as she crosses her legs. Dammit, Lexi. “I want to check Mike’s schedule for the week ahead. I need him to man the boat when I go out with Roger.”
“Roger is your boat boy. What do you need Mike for?” Jem eyes me over the rims of her glasses. “He’s going to be busy enough with transporting things from Pemba and with the wedding guests and their whims.”
“I’m training Roger up to master-diver level,” I say, not fazed by Jem’s authoritarian tone. “We’ll start with walk-in dives, but later this week we’ll need to go out to deeper waters. We need a skipper. It’s a standard safety procedure.”
“Huh,” Jem grunts. “Deeper waters, huh. Diving. Huh.”
“Yes, Jem, surely you won’t stop Roger from learning how to dive? He wants to up his skills, and Tristan is here to help him out,” Lexi says. “If they need a boat and Mike is available, I don’t see why they can’t go out in the afternoons.”
Total annihilation. Awkward doesn’t begin to describe it. Jem glares at Lexi. Lexi glares back. I squeeze the back of Lexi’s chair. Attagirl.
Eventually Jem drops her gaze, and you could hear a pin fall in the room.
Lexi shifts in her chair, her shoulders stiff. “I’ll check for you.”
My eyes move to her screen, where she has some random gossip page open.
She minimizes it, but it’s too late. I know what she’s doing. She’s checking up on Mia Reed and the bomb that’s officially airborne.
“You shouldn’t.” I squeeze her shoulder, and she tenses under my touch.
Now there’s one way to give us away. Jem’s eyes are on us again, brooding, clinging to us like sand to suntan-lotioned skin.
So instead of pulling away, I keep my hand on her shoulder, tracing a line on the delicate column of Lexi’s neck with my thumb. She shudders, as if on cue.
I shouldn’t play with her like this, but I can’t stop myself from touching her.
I don’t like Jem’s scrutiny, and I also need to comfort Lexi somehow and get the message through that she should stop tormenting herself by scouring the internet.
When the Mia Reed story breaks, it will be plastered front-page everywhere.
“I know I shouldn’t,” Lexi murmurs as she types away. “Mike is out on Wednesday and Friday afternoon for now. For the rest, he seems available. Today and tomorrow are madness.”
“Great. I’ll speak to him.” With a soft brush down her arm, I lean in and kiss her temple. “Good luck. Call me if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“The first delivery arrives in an hour, and then the guests are coming in three batches,” Lexi says. She seems to force herself to relax under Jem’s continuing watch. “It’s going to be busy.”
“You keep Matthias de Foch out of our hair and out of our girls’ panties,” Jem says on a huff. “He’s at his best a couple of meters under water.”
Jesus Christ. De Foch has a reputation. “Will do.”
I’m hardly out of the office when Jem’s voice follows me. “When are you two going to kiss and make up, huh? Properly?”
What? Jem is poking her finger in every single pie here.
Lexi responds, but I can’t hear what she says.
Hopefully she puts Jem in her place. That might be a tough one, though.
Jem and Mike are older and have been here forever.
Neither of them likes to be told what to do by younger outsiders who are only here to fill a gap.
“Well, there’s nothing worse for the vibes in this place than when management is having a personal tiff.” Jem’s last words float to me through the open office door. “And it’s been clear from day one that you two need to patch something up.”
Fuck’s sakes. And it doesn’t help if there’s tension between Jem and Lexi either.
Things in that office didn’t exactly feel convivial.
If there’s a reason to make this fake engagement real on at least one score, it’s the sixth sense of the people working here.
The last thing we need is the locals suspecting we’re up to no good.
I’m still chewing on this thought when I arrive at the dive center. Roger is already there, for the first time early and literally bouncing on the balls of his feet. At least someone is happy with the changes coming.
Matthias de Fuck-Off-Already arrives in time for the morning’s dives, and I’m neither surprised nor pleased.
I nod at him in acknowledgement, and he shoots me a grimace.
He’s an experienced diver, having been at Ne’emba nine times in the past few years if the records hold true.
I still want to pummel his face, but I’m on the job and know when to behave.
As long as he toes the line, I can toe the line.
When we get back from the morning’s outing, some wedding guests have arrived, ready to book their dives, and I can see Lexi already wishing the next week was over. At least there’s some arm candy for De Foch now, and with a slow exhale, I thank God that Lexi will be out of his line of fire.
After a quick lunch, I spend some time with Roger, working through the beginner’s manual on dive theory, and then we head out for some practical instruction.
He is sharp and eager, which makes teaching fun, and he knows a lot of things already.
He just didn’t know he knew them. At this rate, I’ll be able to leave him with more knowledge than the diving.
He wants to learn everything about underwater photography too, and during our shallow dive, I hand him my camera to try out. Let him play.
As we wrap up for the day, he comes to stand next to me where I’m taking my camera out of its waterproof case.
“Do you think I took any good photos?” he asks.
“Yeah, definitely.” If he wants to get a grip on the art, I’ll need to invite him into my closet and show him the apps I use to produce social-media-worthy content. This is the moment to cross that bridge. “Do you want to have a look?”
“Please.”
“Come with me. But first dinner.” I lock up the dive center, and Roger has a skip in his step as we walk together to the canteen. I smile, praying that there’ll be at least one good image to stoke his enthusiasm. “Do you have social media?”
“Of course. Do you think I live under a rock here?”
I laugh. “No, only on an island in the middle of nowhere.”
“I’m connected to the office’s internet, and then when I go to home to Pemba, it’s not a problem at all.”