“We established I hate seafood, and so do you.”
“Two peas in a pod.”
He slips on sunglasses, hiding his eyes. The sun is bright, so I adjust my sunhat.
“You’re headed back tomorrow? You don’t want to spend it doing something, I don’t know… islandy?” I ask.
“I’m sure this constitutes as islandy enough, considering I met you holding a pineapple.”
“I was just checking that you aren’t regretting something. I’ve already gathered you are not used to downtime.”
“My dad always told me to be reckless once. This might be the start of that. Spontaneously ending up spending an afternoon with a stranger.” A different look finds him. It’s devilish, and I like that. “I’m not regretting anything right now. That’s a very good thing.” It sounds flirty, dangerous, and only keeps me wanting to stay in his presence. “Except…”
I wait for him to finish. I'm intrigued.
“You’re burning. How have you not had a sunstroke yet?”
I check my arms—they’re pink. “Oh. I didn’t notice. I’ve been too absorbed in our conversation.”
“I guess you don’t have sunscreen with you, do you?” I shake my head. “Totally not me hitting on you,” he holds his hands up in defense, “but my room has a perfect view of the sea, and I have sunscreen there.”
At first, I want to reject his directness. But after talking with him all afternoon, I’ve noticed his polite manner. My intuition trusts him; I’m good at reading people.
“I’ll send a text to my other cousin who isn’t marrying my prom date, in case I disappear and can’t be found. It would be a good story, though. The daughter of a preacher was last seen with a man corrupting her innocence.”
Instantly, he grows still. “What?” He seems petrified.
All I can do is chuckle. “Relax. I was joking. My dad works in agriculture.” The relief that hits him is honest. “Come on.” I grin. “I might take a page from your father’s book about being reckless, because I can assure you that thisis new to me.” I don’t run off with a man I just met, but he’s different. I feel it in my bones.
“Fair enough.”
And ten minutes later, we’re in his room in a boutique hotel with a balcony overlooking the sea. He keeps his word and hands me a bottle of sunscreen. Our fingers brush, and we both freeze, eyes locked. For a moment, we hover in stillness before we both lean in, and our lips meet suddenly.
I pace the kitchen, knowing I have seconds before Hale storms in. But that’s not his real name, is it?
It connects to me that Savannah told me who was on the guest list, and I assume the guy close to Julian narrows down the options.
The sliding door opens. I look up and see that I was right. He quickly steps in, shuts the door, and we face each other at last.
“Elodie.” With his gaze piercing my eyes and voice firm, I’m not sure what direction this conversation will go.
“You are not Hale. So what is your name?”
“Hayes.”
I laugh once under my breath—this world just got smaller. We both used fake names that day, each not far from our own. “Right. Our real names suit us better, I think. I’m Elodie Miller, and you’re Hayes Callahan.” His brows knit, confused. I tug my sweater sleeve, nervous. “Savannah mentioned you a few times, a friend of Julian's. I just didn’t realize it wasyou.”
“Obviously. Otherwise, I would know about her. Wouldn’t I?” His tone is measured, direct, not at all compassionate.
We both glance out the window. Lola is giggling in Savannah’s arms on the lawn below, safe and unaware.
Swallowing emotion, I say, “You would.” I step forward, but he steps back. “She’s yours. In case?—”
His jaw ticks, with his face remaining stone. “I know, Elodie. It’s fucking obvious. We may have been together one day, but I never got the sense that you’re a liar.”
“I searched for?—”
Hayes steps back. “And gave up,” he accuses me.