Page 237 of Reverse

“Yes, there’s a rock star behind you.”

Turning sideways on my stool, I’m met with widening hazel eyes and get lost in them as easily as I did when I first became acquainted with them so many moons ago. Easton Crowne gapes back at me, sporting a deep tan, wearing board shorts and a form-fitting V-neck. Wayfarers rest on top of his thick, black hair, which now hangs a few inches from his shoulders. He’s grown even more into his impressive physique than the last time I saw him. Looking impossibly fit, he stands before me every bit the rock god he’s become.

In my tequila haze, I reach out and poke his chest as he gawks back at me, seemingly just as confused as I am before I finally speak up.

“Easton,” I croak out, vision blurring as elation slams into me. “You’re in . . . M-Mex . . . you’re reallyhere?” I reach out to cup his jaw, and his eyes close at the contact before he utters a low curse.

“Jesus, Natalie. You’re fucking wasted.”

“Meixcation,” I start to tequila-splain. “Dad sent me here for the paper.”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” He snaps, shaking his head while simultaneously freeing himself of my touch.

“No. I mean, yes. He gave me the paper and sent me here to celebrate! Been here a few, t-two days . . . Doyouwanna m-margarita?” I stumble over my words. “Jerry makes them so good you can conjure adaydreaminto realitypoolside.”

“Jerod,” Jerry corrects behind me.

“You overserved a little, didn’t you, man?” Easton scolds Jerry as I greedily take him in, hands moving on their own accord, palming his chest.

“She was cut off an hour ago,” Jerry explains, “I’ve been trying to get her to eat or call someone. I even offered to have a bellman escort her to her room, but she says it’s haunted byPrince Phillip.”

“The fuck?” Easton frowns. “Natalie, what—”

“Damon will come,” I tell the apparition I’m pawing.

Easton’s eyes lower as he edges further away to skirt my touch.

“So, you’re here withDamon?”

“Yes. God, yes. It’s wonderful. He’s so in love,” I explain. “Both of them, Holly too.”

Easton tilts his head, eyes assessing. “Let’s get you to your room.”

“Are you . . . you come . . . for . . . to seeme?”

He pauses at my question before shaking his head. “My girlfriend is checking us in while I scope out the place.” He scratches the back of his neck, raking his lower lip before speaking. “Do you want to meet her?”

A sobering lightning bolt shoots straight into my chest, frying my hopeful insides as I realize just how fucking drunk and delusional I currently am. This is no apparition standing in front of me. It’s my ex-husband, who is here with another woman. A woman who knows what it feels like to take his offered hand, who gets to soak in his warmth, who might even be lucky enough to gain the rare looks in his eyes I once thought solely belonged to me.

Another woman who gets to know him intimately, in the way I was just with him mere minutes ago while wrapped in my blissful memory. Lightning threatens again, hovering, lingering—as does Easton’s question.

“Do I want to—,” I manage to stand on shaky legs and end up chest to chest with Easton. His nostrils flare as I try not to inhale and fail. He takes a step back as I grip the bar blindly behind me to correct my balance before jutting my chin. “Do I want to meet your girlfriend?” I force myself to choke out. “No, thank you, Easton. Honestly, I’d rather go for a slow dive to the bottom of the fucking sea.”

Confident I got my message across, I march straight through the patio bar and down the walkway toward the ocean, dead set on seeing my declaration through.

SEVENTY-ONE

“Crazy Love”

Poco

Easton

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I grit through clenched teeth, watching Natalie wobble along the long dock that edges the patio leading to the beach.

The bartender speaks up. “I take it this was not a good coincidence?”

Reeling, I pull some cash from my pocket and tap the bar. “No, Jerod, it’s not. Line them up, top-shelf, please.” He immediately starts pouring, and I slam two shots back in rapid succession. Tossing another bill onto the bar, I keep my eyes glued to Natalie, who continues her drunken trek toward the water. I damn near ran headfirst into a fucking tropical plant when I saw her profile. The same reaction I’ve had the half dozen or so other times when I’ve searched for her in a crowd and found a likeness to her. But her doppelganger always pales in comparison the closer I get.

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