Page 25 of Every Heartbeat After

Tess

Me

Why didn’t you tell me that Kit came to see you after I left last year?

Gary B

Why didn’t you tell me that you were going on a vacation with the boy?

Because I didn’t know.I start to type the words out but hesitate, fingers hovering above my phone screen. Why, even distraught and, honestly, a little bit annoyed as I am, do I want to protect Kit? I blame the Neanderthalian version of me that thought, “You, Tarzan. Me, Jane,” and then mounted him like a tree outside my motel room last summer. It’s obviously her fault I invited him here in the first place.

That’s what I get for going too long without getting laid. The first warm-blooded, delectable-looking creature comes along, offering milkshakes and quick comebacks, and I’m throwing all rational thought to the wind.

When I find myself doing the sad calculation to find out just how long it’s been since I last did the naked tango, I abandon my text thread with Gary and my half-unpacked suitcase in favor of the rooftop bar.

Anxiety weighs on my heart and, beneath it, confusion. How can I be so upset that he’s here and still find myself hoping he’s waiting for me in the hallway when I yank open my door? It doesn’t make any sense.

I know I was right. About everything. I can’t function with him here. And he shouldn’t have come without warning me. But there’s a part of me who relished every second we stood a mere foot apart for the first time in nearly a year. The same part that feels vindicated now that I know for certain I wasn’t imagining the draw between us. Even with all the shock of seeing him, I feel it now, simmering beneath the surface. I’m simultaneously wishing he’d hop on the next plane back to Colorado, and wondering if he’d bottle up his sandalwood scent for me to spray my pillows with later tonight.

No. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He’s already dangerously confident. There’s no other way to explain the level of absolute cognitive dissonance it would take to think showing up here was a good idea. I’ll give credit where credit is due. The man is really fucking cocky.

Past the elevator bay, the hallway is devoid of hotel room doors. Instead the fogged-glass entry to the spa is on my right and a wall of windows on my left, giving passersby a view into the gym. It’s barely more than a few cardio machines and a weight rack, but it does its job.

I wrinkle my nose as I catch a whiff of the plastic-y rubber mats that make up the gym flooring. A year at Harvey’s was half a year too long.

My boss didn’t really understand when I gave my notice last week. Offered a generous raise for me to stay on, especially since I didn’t have a new gig lined up to take this one’s place. But I never do. I don’t ever know when the timer is going to run out on a job. I just wake up one day and know that I’m ready to move on. Alicia calls me restless. I don’t think there’s a word for what I am.

I’ll find something else. I’m like a cat in that way, always landing on my feet.

The restaurant at the other end of the L-shaped building is suffering from a midafternoon lull. Come dinnertime, it’ll be bursting at the seams. Topwater is the only restaurant for a few miles and therefore benefits from the captive audience of the Carmen’s guests. Their only other option is driving thirty minutes in summer traffic to the nearby outlet mall, where chain restaurants and fried seafood abound.

It’s also Alex’s passion project, which is why I’m not surprised to find him behind the bar as I step out onto the patio portion of the restaurant.

He’s Mauricio’s senior by several years, but the two men are twins in appearance. Dark, coarse hair peppered with gray and brown eyes that warm you up the minute they land on you. The only difference is the goatee he insists on sporting, despite the fact that Mara and I have been trying to convince him it’s uncool for years.

“Still haven’t shaved, huh, Alex?” I climb onto a rattan barstool and drop my purse on the granite counter. The surface is sticky and stained with red splotches. I help myself to a nearby rag and wipe it clean.

He glances up from the papers he’d been going over with a young bartender I don’t recognize, and smiles wide when he realizes who’s ribbing him. “Mija!”My daughter.

There’s a reason I keep coming back to this place.

“I swear you look a year older every time I see you,” I tease.

“Perhaps that is because I am.” He abandons the young man, probably freshly twenty-one if I had to guess, with a baby face to boot, and exits the backside of the square bar through a pony door next to the liquor wall that makes up the fourth side. I stand up just in time for his arms to swallow me whole, and though we are the same height, I sag against him for a moment, all the tension of my run-in with Kit finally hitting me at once.

“Whoa, whoa.” Alex pulls back, dark brows pinching tight. “Why so sad,mija?You’re home! Today is a happy day!”

“You’re right. Today is a happy day.” I smile, though it doesn’t reach my eyes. He’s been saying it to me for so many years that I can hardly remember the first time he repeated my father’s go-to phrase back to me. The words Dad would reassure me with when I was anxious for a cheer meet or sad that he had to go back to work after a long weekend spent playing together outside while Mom baked cherry pie for us to gorge ourselves on in the evening.

It’s been my motto ever since. A reminder that, even when I feel like I’m falling apart, my parents would want me to be happy.

Alex pats my bicep. “That’s my girl. What can we whip up for you?” He gestures toward the new guy, who waves awkwardly and tosses his shaggy hair back with a neck jerk that hurts my own. “Sebastian here is in training.”

I open my mouth to say hello to Sebastian, but just then he shifts his weight, clearing my view to the other side of the bar.

Where Kit sits, eyebrows raised, with a strawberry daiquiri pressed to his lips.

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