Page 230 of Reverse

Holly looks over to me, beaming while drawing her long brown locks into a messy bun on her head. “Girl, your dad is theshit. Not only does he hand over the keys to the kingdom, but he also sends you on a Mexication to celebrate! Seriously, you won the parent lottery.”

I turn to her and quirk a brow, and she ducks beneath the implication.

“I mean, aside from that . . . thing he did, but no parent is perfect.” She lathers her rapidly browning skin. “But way to make it up, Uncle Nate, right?”

I’ve broken my back most of my life to earn his chair, but I don’t bring that to her attention. Instead, I just nod in agreement. In the last seven months, I’ve done the layout on every issue with little-to-no help. When I walked into the paper Monday, the entire staff was waiting, Mom standing at Dad’s side, champagne in hand, and a congratulations sign strung across the pit, and I’d been in an utter state of disbelief.

Editor in Chief is mine.

I hadn’t expected it so soon, but it feels earned, warranted, and in no way premature. I just hadn’t expected to feel what I did, which was . . . so much less than I thought.

After handing over the key, Dad only had a few conditions—that he stays on a part-time basis until he’s ready to fully retire. Not only did I wholeheartedly agree, but I was also slightly relieved.

That anxiety eased further when he showed up like clockwork the day after passing the baton with his second condition—that I take a five-day vacation he booked for me, Holly, and Damon in this little paradise.

Apparently, Dad has been making future plans of his own, and as soon as I get back to Austin, he’s whisking my mother away to Greece for a well-earned hiatus.

All of this I expected—eventually—in the future.

The future turned out to benow.

What wasunexpectedwas the screeching halt of my thousand-mile-an-hour mind. At the time, my happy tears had been genuine, if only a little forced—the feeling of accomplishment real, but the after . . . the after has beendebilitating.

The future is now.

I’m living it, and it’s done absolutely nothing but drag me into a place I wasn’t at all prepared for after hitting such a sought-after milestone.

For the last two days and nights, I’ve been staring aimlessly at the ocean as a face, and expression, flit to mind—along with the words thatshould have fitmy feelings that day.

“I can’t recall a time in my life where I was so blissfully happy . . . can you?”

Holly chimes in again as I cover my telling eyes by adjusting my sunglasses.

“Seriously, no complaints, Nat, but—”

“Here it comes,” I grumble around my straw.

“I’m just saying, we’ve been here two days and have gone to bed before midnight. It wouldn’t hurt to mix it up, maybe grab a nice big—”

“Margarita? I agree.” I thrust my frozen concoction her way, the mini-inverted Corona bottle clinking against the rim of the schooner. “Have at it.”

“Whatever,” she says, taking a long drink. “Ohhhh, that’s too damned good.”

“Good enough to shut you up? This isn’t Cabo. Act like a lady and find agentleman.”

“I’m just asking for a wing woman tonight. We haven’t prowled together,” her beautiful features pinch before she places a hand on my arm for added drama, “girl, sincecollege!”

“If you want a hookup, there are apps for that, but I’ll be damned if you get catfished here, and Damon won’t let it happen, either. Besides, the last time I playedwing womanfor you, I ended up drunk and deserted in some techie’s living room as you screamed through the walls, faking orgasms. So, that’s a hard pass.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you? Menlikethat.”

“Not if it’s fake, and you shouldn’t be encouraging men who aren’t getting the job done. It’s an injustice to women. Especially likethat, Jesus. You sounded ridiculous.”

“Shut up,” she says, slurping back a good amount of my margarita just as Damon emerges from the ocean. He’s looking absolutely gorgeous in light blue swimming trunks, his mocha skin glittering with cascading water and late-day sun as he saunters through the sand. I drink him in fully because there are beautiful men, and then there’s Damon, in a class of his own.

Completely aware of it, his Spidey-dick senses kick in as heads begin to turn. Looking like a man capable of satisfying every nearby mermaid, he subtly shifts his radar toward a woman in a barely-there bikini. She looks up at him biting her lip, and in return, he flashes her his signature megawatt grin, hooking her instantly. I can practically see the hearts in her eyes as they trail him while he glides by, swagger in full effect.

“What makes you the expert on orgasms anyway?” Holly prods, her back to the spectacle Damon’s making.

---