Page 80 of A Quick Stop in Paradise

The sun was warm on the back of my head, sitting in front of the tall window and anxiously stirring a glass of lemonade I didn’t even want—I hadn’t wanted to come to the café attached to the resort, the place I hadn’t been since I was still with Shane and that felt like a lifetime ago. But Aunt Helena had insisted, and between her and Grandma, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, so here I was, hyperaware of every inch of distance between me and Brooklyn when I’d told her I’d just be stopping inside.

Mom and Dad were over the moon, chatting away with a handful of other family members squeezed in at the big round table, going on like everything was normal again, as if nothing had happened this week. And it was hard to bring myself to burst anyone’s bubble by pointing outhey, I still haven’t gotten that apology,even though I was trying to talk to them about this.

“You know,” Mom said, smiling warmly at me, and I tried to push down the small, primal part of me that desperately just wanted to make her like me. “You used to love art class when you were little. I still remember your old paintings you wouldn’t let me keep.”

I strained an awkward smile. “Is this… relevant to something?”

She frowned like I’d insulted her. “It’s on the itinerary. We’re doing the group painting class later tonight.”

I prickled, picking up my drink, holding it like it was a shield. “I’m not going to the painting class.”

Aunt Helena gave me a thin smile, that kind with a hollow, dark look that told me to behave. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Of course you are. I’ve been looking forward to it all week,” she said, turning her gaze back to Mom, as if I hadn’t said a word. “You remember when we used to take those classes with Adrian?”

Mom laughed. “I remember that awful studio and that awful Naomi woman. Adrian was wonderful, though.”

I heard myself speak up again. “I’m not going to the painting class.”

That got a look from everyone else at the table. Mom shifted awkwardly, the first to speak, her tone defensive. “All right… we don’t need to be hostile. So, what? You’re going to stop going to family events again?”

I let out a slow breath. “I just wanted to come around and talk to you. I said that.”

“And I said this is a good place to talk. You can talk. You’re allowed to,” she said, and I figured we’d put that to the test. I set my drink down, tenting my hands on the polished wood of the table.

“It’s about when we go back,” I said, and Aunt Helena sighed.

“Why are you so obsessed with dragging down the mood on the vacation?”

I managed to catch myself with a sharp breath instead of taking the bait. “I feel like we’re just assuming all of this will go away once we’re back,” I said. “But I’m still upset about what’s happened here, and if we don’t fix this before we get back, it’s going to be a lot harder.”

Grandma gave me a sour look before she turned back to Mom, and she dropped the bomb of, “I thought you’d raised the twins to be decent.”

Mom shot her a look, and even Aunt Helena did a double take. I laughed, once, shortly, raising my eyebrows. “But not Stella, huh?” I said, and Grandma frowned like she hadn’t really thought about that. Nobody got in another riposte before a figure moved through the crowd, pushing across the café, and made my stomach turn at the sight—my lovely ex-boyfriend Shane, stepping the long way around the table and summoning the planet-sized audacity to put an arm around my back.

“Look who’s back,” he said cheerfully. “Good to see you again, babe.”

He went in for a kiss on the side of my head, and I pushed away from him, batting his arm away. The shocked look he gave me said he’d been counting on me not making a scene in public, but I was beyond caring at this point. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I said. “Don’t touch me like we’re still together.”

Aunt Helena shifted, speaking in a thin, awkward voice. “Ryan, please, can we not do this right here? In public like this?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Grandma sighed. “The poor young lady’s gone off the rails completely.”

“Mom,” Mom said. “That’s my daughter you’re talking about.”

Shane smiled at me, a dangerous glint in his eyes, anger pointed into a thin smile. “Easy, tiger,” he laughed. “We’re in a bad mood today, huh? Something happen to her before I got here?” he said, looking back to the others, voice playful, joking around with buddies. I couldn’t hold back the biting anger, and frankly, I didn’t want to.

Mom spoke levelly. “Shane, it’s good to see you, just—we were just having a conversation—”

Shane tried to casually slip his arm around my back again, and I pushed him away again. “Stop fucking touching me,” I said, and the whole table stopped, bone-white faces looking at me. Swearing in the family was strictly a no-no—Stella had gotten talkings-to about it a million times—and especially in front of Grandma and Grandpa, I might as well have killed someone, but I was getting close to that with Shane anyway.

Shane’s expression changed, darkening, pursing his lips into a thin, tight frown. “You really want to do this here, then, huh?” he said, and Aunt Helena put her hands up.

“No,she doesn’t,” she said, voice sharp. “We’re all going to settle back down now and—”

“I was having a conversation,” I said. “This will stop the second you stop creeping behind me trying to feel me up.”

“Ryan,” Aunt Helena said. Shane snorted, leaning against the table, kicking one foot over the other, arms folded.

“I guess we can do this here, then,” he said. “So, what’s it going to be? Your little secret on the side, that’s so good you’re happy to throw everything away for it?”

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