Page 26 of The Ex-Girlfriend Agreement

Who says it isn’t?

NINE

Brooke

Morning sunshine has never felt soaccusatory. It streams through the catamaran's sails, illuminating the impossibly blue Hawaiian waters and my equally impossible situation. Dean sits at the bow, laughing with my father about something I can't hear, looking completely at ease in board shorts and a faded t-shirt, like he didn't turn my world inside out last night. Like he didn't whisper "Who says it isn't?" about marriage, of all things, at breakfast. Meanwhile, I'm huddled under a sun hat the size of a satellite dish, nursing both a mild hangover and the unsettling realization that I might be in way over my head with this fake relationship plan.

"Need some water?" My cousin Melissa appears beside me, offering a bottle. "You look like you're contemplating jumping overboard."

"Is it that obvious?" I accept the water gratefully, taking a long sip.

She laughs, settling beside me on the cushioned bench. "Only to someone who knows you well. What's up? Trouble in paradise?"

If only she knew. "Just tired. Between the time difference and all the activities..."

"Uh-huh." Her knowing smirk makes me blush. "Nothing to do with the way you and Dean couldn't keep your hands off each other on the dance floor last night?"

I choke on my water. "We weren't—it wasn't?—"

"Please. You two were practically devouring each other. Not that I blame you." She fans herself dramatically. "If I had a man who looked at me the way Dean looks at you, I'd never leave the hotel room."

If she only knew about our night in the hotel room. I take another sip of water to hide my flaming cheeks.

"Speaking of men who can't take their eyes off you," Melissa continues, nodding toward the other side of the boat, "Chase hasn't stopped staring since we boarded."

I follow her gaze to where Chase stands with Taylor and James, pretending to be engaged in their conversation while his eyes keep drifting in my direction. When he notices me looking, he smiles and raises his drink in a small toast.

"Great," I mutter. "Just what I need."

"What's the story there? Taylor mentioned you had a thing for him in high school."

"A teenage crush. Ancient history."

"Well, based on the way he's looking at you, he's interested in making some new history."

I shake my head. "I'm with Dean."

The words come out automatically, part of the pretense, but they settle strangely in my chest. After last night, they feel both more true and more false than ever.

"Doesn't seem to be deterring Chase," Melissa observes. "Maybe Dean needs to mark his territory a bit more clearly."

"Dean doesn't need to mark anything," I say, perhaps too sharply. "And I'm perfectly capable of handling Chase myself."

As if summoned by our conversation, Chase makes his way over, his easy confidence evident in every step. He's objectively handsome—tanned skin, perfectly styled hair, white teeth gleaming in a practiced smile—but all I can think is how different he is from Dean, with his work-roughened hands and genuine laugh.

"Ladies," Chase greets us, his gaze lingering on me. "Mind if I join you?"

Melissa stands with suspicious speed. "Actually, I was just going to check out the view from the front. All yours."

She winks at me behind Chase's back before abandoning me to his company. Traitor.

"Having fun?" Chase asks, taking her vacated seat, closer than strictly necessary.

"It's beautiful out here," I reply, gesturing to the horizon where distant islands rise from the mist. "Taylor picked a perfect location."

"She always did have good taste." His eyes don't leave my face. "Though I think you got all the beauty in the family."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the obvious line. "Thanks, but Taylor's the star this week."

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