Page 80 of Promise Not To Fall

Two cups ice

1 oz. pineapple juice

1 oz. orange juice

1 oz. blackberry liqueur

1 oz. banana liqueur

1 oz. light rum

1 oz. dark rum or aged rum

Splash grenadine

Optional: 1 ounce of Bacardi 151 to float on top

Orange slice (optional)

Fill glass with ice. Add the liquid contents. Pour the 151 in the straw or on the top.

Given my mood, I find myself taking everything out on Wesley, who tries to change his flight so he doesn’t have to fly back with us on the same plane. They won’t let him, and I’m actually pleased by that. He needs to see firsthand what he’s done, and that means sitting next to his crying ex-fiancée.

All is quiet for the most part prior to take-off, Wesley, headphones in, next to the window, Rylee beside him, and then me in the aisle seat.

“Are you okay?” Rylee asks, holding my hand.

“I’m miserable, Rylee,” I admit, filling my palms with my sadness. Never before had I let someone have this kind of hold on me. Even with Justin, and I was with him for two years.

“So why let him go?”

It’s a good question. Why did I let him go? Did I do it for me or for him? I can’t answer her. In reality, I might have been doing it for both of us. It’s not like I could have stayed right now, but going back again, staying in touch—I can do those things.

Rylee turns to me, her face planted in her latest issue of US Weekly. “Did you hear about Revel?” She points to the article about him and his on again off again sidepiece, Taylan Ash.

I rip the magazine from her. “You know way more about celebrities than you should. And it’s not even true.” My phone vibrates in my lap and I smile, knowing it’s Jake.

Safe trip, City Girl. Call me when you land.

“Well, these stories are usually mostly true,” Rylee notes, peeking at my phone.

I angle it away from her. “Not really. And usually and mostly aren’t something you’d use to describe the truth in a situation.” I don’t have the energy to argue with her. Not now. We’d had this argument too many times. Rylee feeds off entertainment and uses me for dirty information. However, I sign nondisclosure agreements and can’t tell her shit.

“Kendall, they didn’t split up. They consciously uncoupled.”

“Uncoupled my ass. They fucked other people is what happened.”

Wesley snorts beside her at the “uncoupled” part of the conversation.

You can almost see the sadness creep over Rylee, and I lose it. Nobody messes with my girl. He’s lucky I didn’t plant drugs on him before we left for the airport.

Reaching across Rylee, I hit him in the chest as hard as I can from two seats over. “Do not say anything to her the rest of the trip. Nothing. If you do, I’ll rip your balls off and shove them up your ass. Right on up there where they belong!”

He says nothing. Not a goddamn word.

Maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but once we land in Miami and we’re on the flight back to Phoenix, I fall asleep.

I don’t sleep long. I can’t. I can’t get Jake off my mind no matter how hard I try. I close my eyes and see sunsets and white sand, coconut drinks and sky blue eyes, clear water and sticky skin. It fucking sucks. I don’t want to think about him, but I can’t stop, either. It consumes me. It’s haunting.

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