I got her settled on the bed, her ankle propped up on two pillows, the pills and a fresh bottle of water within arm’s reach. I pulled the heavy curtains, killing the glare of the Mexican sun so it wouldn't beat on her while she slept it off.
I checked my phone.
Nothing.
“You need anything else before I head out?” I asked, standing by the door.
She shook her head, smoothing the duvet over her legs. Then she looked up at me, and for once, the performance was over.
“You’re going to regret fumbling me, Dexter Nash,” she said.
I stayed in the doorway, my hand on the handle, looking at her straight. “One day, you’re going to find the man who was actually built for you,” I said, no coldness in it, just truth. “And when you do, you’re going to look back and understand that I was never him. I was just comfortable and you deserve more than a man who’s just comfortable.”
She held my gaze for a heartbeat long enough for the weight of that word to land and then she let it go. She turned her face toward the window, letting me know she was done with me.
I pulled the door shut, the click of the lock sounding like a period at the end of a very long sentence.
I stepped back outside and took a deep breath of the fresh air. The peace didn’t last long once I realized Nique still hadn’t texted me back. I checked my phone one more time as I walked the path.
Still nothing.
I shoved it deep in my pocket and picked up my pace. I was done checking for notifications. It was time to go find my woman.
Chapter twenty-three
High Tide
The knocking didn’t just wake me up; it insulted me. It was a heavy, relentless thud that vibrated through the mattress and settled right behind my eyes. I groaned, dragging a pillow over my head, but the sound was persistent. My mouth tasted like copper and lime juice—a parting gift from the three hours I’d spent at the swim-up bar trying to drown the memory of Stella’s voice and the sight of Dex playing paramedic to Amina.
I’d come back to the villa, scrubbed the chlorine and the jungle off my skin until it was red, and collapsed. Now, I was caught inthat thick, post-tequila fog where your body feels like lead and your heart feels like an open wound.
"Go away," I croaked into the silk sheets.
The knocking didn't stop.
"Nel, I’m serious. If you don't get away from this door, we’re gonna have a real problem."
Silence for a heartbeat. Then, "Nique. Open the door."
My heart did a traitorous little stutter-step. It wasn't Nel. It was the one voice I had been trying to scrub from my brain since I’d walked away from that cenote.
I sat up, the room tilting on its axis. I waited for my head to stop spinning. Suddenly I felt too hot and the silk of my leopard-print spaghetti strap gown was sticking to my skin. It was barely long enough to cover the essentials, and I didn't have a stitch of anything on underneath it, but I didn't care. I wasn't in the mood to be modest. I was in the mood to be left alone.
I stumbled to the door and yanked it open, the sudden rush of bright afternoon light making me squint.
Dex was standing there, still in his clothes from the excursion, looking like he’d been through a war. His eyes were drained and his shoulders slumped. He looked at me, and I watched his gaze drop, taking in the way the silk hung off my body, before snapping back up to my eyes. For a second, his expression shifted from tired to hungry, but I wasn't giving him an inch.
"Nique," he breathed, reaching out like he wanted to touch my shoulder.
I stepped back before his fingers could even graze me, the anger flaring up and burning through the last of my haze.
"You got the wrong villa, Dexter," I said, my voice rasping. "The princess in distress is on the other side of the resort. I’m sure she’s waiting on you to go rub her foot or whatever else she’s got you doing today."
"Can I just come in for a second? Let's just talk—"
"Talk about what?" I leaned against the doorframe, the hem of my gown riding up, but I didn't pull it down. I just crossed my arms over my chest and stared him down. "Talk about how you hopped into that van without a second thought? Talk about how I’m supposed to just sit here and wait while you play family with a woman who hates my guts?"
I looked him up and down, the hurt finally winning out over the anger. "I’m tired, Dex. I’m tired of being second to your baby mama. I’m tired of being the one left standing on the curb while you drive off to save her. Go back to her. That’s clearly where your loyalty is."