Page 13 of The Ex-Girlfriend Agreement

He passes me on the way to the bathroom, and I catch a whiff of his cologne—that familiar scent that used to cling to my clothes, my sheets, my skin. The bathroom door closes behind him, and I exhale shakily.

It's going to be a very long day.

* * *

Breakfast is blessedly busy, with the entire wedding party spread across several tables. Dean and I are separated by well-meaning relatives who want to catch up with us individually, giving me space to breathe without his overwhelming presence beside me.

"You look tired, honey," my mother comments, passing me a plate of tropical fruit. "Jet lag?"

"Probably," I agree, spearing a piece of pineapple with more force than necessary. Definitely not because I spent half the night having erotic dreams about my ex.

"Well, try to rest today. The luau tonight is the big event before the rehearsal dinner tomorrow." She leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Your father and I are so happy to see you and Dean still going strong. We were worried, you know, with the distance."

Guilt sours the sweet fruit in my mouth. "Were you?"

"Of course! Long-distance relationships are so hard. But look at you two—still so in love after all this time."

Across the restaurant, Dean laughs at something my cousin says, his head thrown back, throat exposed. My stomach flips traitorously.

"Yep," I manage. "Still…that."

After breakfast, the day unfolds in a blur of wedding preparations and family activities. Dean and I maintain a careful orbit around each other—close enough to maintain our couple façade, far enough to avoid being alone together. When my aunt offers to take a group to a local market, I practically leap at the chance. Dean opts for a hike with my father and some of the groomsmen.

"Meet you back at the room before the luau?" he asks as we part ways in the lobby, his hand on my elbow, putting on a show for my mother watching nearby.

"Sure," I say, hyper-aware of his touch, of my mother's fond gaze. "Have fun hiking."

"Have fun shopping, sweetheart." He drops a quick kiss on my forehead—a perfectly boyfriendly gesture that makes me freeze like a startled deer.

The market is a welcome distraction—colorful stalls selling everything from handmade jewelry to tropical fruits I've never seen before. I let my aunt and cousins pull me from vendor to vendor, forcing Dean from my thoughts with each new discovery.

By late afternoon, I'm laden with small bags containing gifts for friends back in New York and a sarong in shades of blue that the seller assured me would "make my man crazy." I didn't bother correcting her assumption that I had a "man" to make crazy.

The resort is bustling when we return, guests enjoying the pool and beach as the afternoon heat begins to wane. I wave goodbye to my shopping companions and head up to the suite, hoping Dean is still out with his hiking group so I can have a moment alone to regroup.

No such luck. I swipe my key card and push open the door to find Dean standing in the middle of the room, frowning at the ceiling vent.

"Hey," I say, setting down my shopping bags. "Something wrong?"

"Air conditioning's out." He looks over at me, wiping sweat from his forehead. Despite the hiking, he looks unfairly good—slightly flushed, his t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. "Called the front desk. They're sending someone up."

Now that he mentions it, I realize the room is stifling. The ceiling fan spins lazily overhead, moving hot air around without cooling it.

"Great," I sigh, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Perfect."

Dean eyes me warily, like he's not sure if my frustration is directed at the situation or at him. Before he can say anything, there's a knock at the door.

The maintenance worker is apologetic but not helpful. "System's overloaded," he explains as he fiddles with the thermostat. "Too many rooms, not enough cooling capacity. We're working on it, but might not be fixed until tomorrow."

"Is there another room we could move to?" I ask hopefully. "Maybe one where the AC is working?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry, ma'am. We're fully booked with the wedding and two corporate retreats. No vacant rooms."

"What about fans?" Dean asks. "Can you bring up some extra fans?"

"I'll see what I can do, sir, but we're getting the same request from a lot of guests."

After he leaves, promising to return with fans if any are available, I flop back on the bed with a groan. "This is just perfect."

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