Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
TRECEE JONES
My eyes cracked open, and the sunlight damn near blinded me. My mouth was dry as hell, tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth like I’d been eating cotton balls all night. The melatonin knocked me the fuck out. I’d taken more gummies than I was supposed to.
Wiping my eyes, I squinted at the pinch of sunlight that was peeking through the blinds.
I glanced over and frowned at the empty bed.
I figured Romelo had gotten over his hump, but his feelings hadn’t changed.
It was actually petty of him to get separate rooms, and I tried not to let it bother me on this trip.
The mere thought of trying to brush it off made my stomach hurt.
His distance was making my blood boil, and as much as I wanted to hold it in and not let it spill over, I wanted to cause a scene.
Sitting up, my head felt heavy, like somebody had stuffed it with rocks while I was sleeping. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess, but that shit wasn’t budging. Then I glanced at my phone on the nightstand and checked the time.
10:47 AM
I’d slept through everything.
I could hear voices outside—laughter, the clinking of dishes. They were already up, doing shit without me. My chest tightened. I threw the covers off and stumbled to the bathroom, catching my reflection in the mirror.
I looked like hell. My bonnet was halfway off. The baby hairs on my frontal were sticky from the glue and bent. My eyes were puffy too. I turned the nozzle and splashed cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up, trying to feel like myself again.
Bitch, get your shit together.
Nothing about this trip felt fun. Not with the way Romelo had been acting. Distant. Cold. Like I was some random bitch he was tolerating instead of his girl.
Nonetheless, I got my shit together—showered, washed my face, brushed and fixed my hair, and got dressed.
My suitcase was filled with designer labels that Romelo purchased for me a while ago.
It was among a lot of shit that he’d purchased for this trip.
That was his thing, his love language—he loved to splurge.
I grabbed the 2PC set that I purchased from Neiman Marcus.
It was beautiful and fit me so well. The floral one-piece pushed up my breasts, highlighting my fun-sized shape, matching the cover-up.
My outfit was a perfect match for the green thong sandals.
Looking in the mirror, I could tell that my weight was dropping.
The last time I put this outfit on, it hugged my curves.
Stress. This was all caused by stress, and my unruly shift with Romelo.
When I walked out to the dining area, everybody was already eating breakfast. Romelo sat at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone like it was more interesting than anything happening around him.
Synthia was laughing at something Mimi said, her head thrown back, all carefree and shit. Moon pie face ass bitch!
I hated how comfortable she looked. It made me regret inviting her in the first place.
“Morning,” I said, my voice coming out smaller than I wanted it to.
“Good morning…hey…morning,” sounded off dull, in ripples, around the kitchen. Romelo was the last one to speak. His voice was dull and low on energy. His phone was in his hand, and he hadn’t bothered to look from it to acknowledge me.
“Wassup.” He spoke.
I sat down next to him, not bothered with the many plates filled with breakfast on the counter and a glass of orange juice and mimosa in champagne flutes. I didn’t have an appetite right now. Scooting my chair closer, trying to close the gap between us.
“I didn’t sleep well, baby,” I mentioned to him, like he cared.
“Then you should’ve stayed woke,” he hissed, his voice annoyed. “Watch out.” He slightly shoved me, then stood up and walked away. My eyes, low and sad, followed him, tracing his steps until he exited the room.
“Maybe we should do the jet skis,” I heard Synthia utter.
My neck snapped in her direction. She was suggesting shit like it was her birthday trip and not mine.
I did an itinerary. I wanted to be outside, instead of sulking around.
My man needed to be with me enjoying this shit.
Turks and Caicos is beautiful. This trip was planned months ago, and TikTok spoiled me with all the cute adventurous videos.
In just three days, I planned to go back home happy that I’d done everything that I wanted to do.
“It’s supposed to storm,” Oliver chided, chewing on a piece of bacon.
My eyes grew wide. “Storm?” I shrieked. “I didn’t see anything about a storm!”
“Yeah, it won’t hit until later on.”
I palmed my forehead, seeing all of my plans drowned in the midst of bullshit.
“We still have time to do the jet skis, right?” Synthia spoke.
My head popped up. “Who said anything about jet skis? I don’t want to get on no damn jet skis,” I snapped. “I want to go kayaking.”
She stared at me. I stared back. Our eyes didn’t move. The menacing glazes in our eyes could put out a fire. If she snapped, then I’d pop off and crackle her ass in the mouth.
“I thought I saw jet skis in your itinerary,” she mentioned.
I shrugged. “The rain fucked that up. I want to at least go kayaking if I don’t do anything else though.”
“Bitch, you don’t know how to swim and you want to get on jet skis,” Mimi giggled, teasing Synthia.
Breaking the stare, she glanced at Mimi with a smile. “Who said anything about me drowning?”
“I can’t wait to see how this shit plays out,” Mimi muttered.
“Hoe shut up,” Synthia shoved her, causing Mimi to giggle. “Let me drown, you’ll be the first one putting on a cape to save me.”
They erupted into loud chit chat. Romelo entered the room, and I felt a gravitational pull.
My neck snapped in his direction. At the sight of him, my heart thumped, and I felt my soul sink to the bottom of my ass.
The love of my life is no longer in love with me, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.
I was exhausted and tired of trying—trying to be the girl he fell for.
But he wasn’t having it. He looked at me with disgust, his mouth curled up, like there was a sour taste on his tongue.
We ended up kayaking together, and I thought for a moment I could tug at his emotions. But even then he was quiet, like I was a stranger. Padding in silence, his jaw tight, his mind drifting somewhere I couldn’t reach.
“You okay?” I asked, my voice low, barely above a whisper.
“I’m good.”
I wanted to press him, demand the answers he wasn’t telling me, but I kept my mouth shut and paddled, pretending not to care. The sound of the water filled the noise between us, aside from loud cackles and shit-talking behind us.
Then I heard screaming.
My head snapped toward the sound, and my heart dropped to my stomach. Synthia. She was in the water, flailing, going under.
“Synthia!” Mimi’s voice cut through the air, panicked and shrill.
Before I could even process what was happening, Romelo was moving.
He dropped the paddle, dove into the water without hesitation, swimming toward her like his life depended on it.
I sat there, frozen, watching him move faster than I’d ever seen him move for me.
He was swimming like his life depended on it.
No—like her life was the only one that mattered.
“Juicy! I’m coming baby.”
Juicy.
My hand went numb. The paddle slipped from my fingers, clattering against the kayak. I couldn’t feel my body anymore. Couldn’t feel anything except the sick, hollow ache spreading through my stomach, up into my chest, squeezing my lungs.
The thought came unbidden, vicious and true. I could be the one under that water, choking, drowning, and he’d probably paddle at a normal pace—or if he’d saved me at all.
But for her? He was losing his fucking mind.
Other people were moving now—Mimi screaming, Oliver jumping in to help since he was closer than we were, the instructor shouting something I couldn’t hear.
But all I could see was Romelo. The way he shoved a kayak out of his path without even looking.
The way his face stayed locked on the spot she’d gone under, like if he looked away for even a second, he’d lose her forever.
He reached the spot and dove under.
My heart stopped.
Three seconds had gone by.
He burst through the surface, and she was in his arms, coughing, gasping, sputtering and gasping for air.
And Romelo—god, Romelo—he pulled her against his chest so hard, so tight, like he was trying to absorb her into his body. Like he needed to feel her breathing to believe she was real.
“I got you baby, just breathe. Breathe for me baby. Breathe,” he kept saying, his voice cracking, shaking. His hand cradled the back of her head, fingers tangled in her wet hair, caressing her waist. His strong tatted arms cradled her like she was fragile, holding her close.
She coughed up water, her body convulsing, and he turned her slightly, supporting her thick frame with his palm flat on her back. “That’s it baby, breathe. Just breathe for me baby. Breathe for me and I’ll handle the rest. I got you.”
My vision blurred. I couldn’t tell if it was tears or if I was about to pass out. A lump formed in the back of my throat, and not even a swallow could make it go away. I wanted to pass out and die.
Synthia’s arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him, her face pressed into his shoulder. She was crying now and wouldn’t let him go. Even when the instructor reached them. Even Oliver tried to help. Romelo held on like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, his lips against her temple. “You’re okay. I got you. I’m right here baby.”
He spoke as if no one else existed, as if they were in a realm and we were watching them. His hand moved from her face, cupping her cheek, tilting her head back so he could look at her. His thumb wiped the tears streaming down her face. His eyes were stretched, like she was his soft spot.