Page 84 of Caribbean Crush

We’re not doing this.

I turn to him. “Enough of that. Now tell me, what are the chances that we’re about to get it on once we get to my suite? Fifty fifty? Seventy thirty?”

He tips his head, smiling. “Zero. I’m stone-cold sober.”

“Such a disappointment,” I say once the elevator reaches my floor. “So then why are you coming up here with me?” I ask, leading him down the hallway.

Outside my door, I present my key card to him like I’m Vanna White; then he swipes it and we’re in.

“Can I interest you in a drink?”

“I thought you needed water.”

My eyes go wide. “Yes! Water.”

I forgot about my thirst, but now it’s come back with a vengeance. I practically run toward my minibar and fill up a crystal glass, guzzle it down, and then have another.

Once I’m done, I turn to Phillip so I can ask something I’ve been wondering about. “So you have no idea where Vivienne is? She left last night?”

He’s still near the door. He’s been taking in the suite while I was quenching my thirst. Now, he looks at me. “She’s probably back home by now. I’m not sure. We haven’t been in contact since our breakup, beyond a few awkward texts, and after last night, I doubt she’ll be calling me anytime soon.”

“Was she upset when you didn’t take her back?”

I bet she was. My heart hurts just thinking of being in her position. I could never imagine breaking up with Phillip. If I were lucky enough to trick him into dating me, that man would have a ring on his finger so fast. We’d be down the aisle ASAP. I’d be so scared to lose him that I wouldn’t want to take any chances. And she just ... left him?

“She was surprised, I think, by it. I assume she thought it would go differently. Sienna didn’t really help things.”

I wince before looking at him. I’m relieved he doesn’t look annoyed.

“I don’t think I would have turned Vivienne down and rubbed it in her face that I’ve already moved on, but it’s better this way. Now, no one is under any assumptions that the relationship will be restored.”

“Hold on.” I put my hand out like a police officer directing traffic. “What do you mean about the moving on part?”

“Sienna brought you up, and Vivienne was curious.”

My eyes practically bug out of my head. I knew Sienna brought me up in front of Vivienne. But I didn’t know Phillip spoke about me! That’s different! “What did you tell her?”

I must know, but Phillip doesn’t answer. He kicks off his shoes by the door—a gentleman—and then starts to peel out of his jacket.

My mind immediately goes to the gutter. My eyes are on a slow descent down to his crotch. “I thought you said we weren’t getting it on. Have my chances improved?”

I think my dancing eyebrows will surely win him over, so I’m shocked when he still shakes his head. “Not tonight. Come sit down with me, will you?”

“Can I change into my pajamas first?”

“Yeah. Go.”

By the time I walk back into the living room in a cute matching pajama set (the only one I own and only because I found it on sale at Target, stuffed in a clearance bin), Phillip’s sitting on my couch. Because someone gave him the exact script on how to make me fall in love with him, he has poured me a fresh glass of water and dug around in the snacks near the minibar. There’s an assortment of candy and chips laid out on the table for us to share. All kinds of junk that immediately has my mouth watering.

I sit down to peruse my bevy of options and go for candy first. Wild, considering everyone knows that the snack pattern goes salty, then sweet, salty, then sweet ad infinitum. It almost feels sacrilegious to do it the other way around. I pop a few M&M’s in my mouth, then hand the bag to Phillip. Then I go for chips. We swap the M&M’s for the chips, then vice versa. And it’s somehow accomplished without a single word until we finish both bags.

Then we reach for our waters in sync, meet eyes, and laugh.

“You’re something else,” I chide him, and boy, does that phrase have a hundred meanings. It lets me say so much with so little, and Phillip gets it. He understands what I’m withholding out of fear, and he’s not scared of the magnitude of it. He welcomes it.

After I set my glass down, I settle back against him. I’m sick of the distance between us, even if it was only a few inches.

I lean my head against his shoulder, and the back of his pointer finger eases along the slope of my shoulder, ostensibly so he can brush my hair back, but all I feel are a thousand sparks lighting me up from the inside. He makes me feel this much anguish with a single touch. It’s heart wrenching to feel this strongly for someone I know will exist in my life as a sentence, not a chapter.

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