Page 12 of The All-Inclusive

Like Mom has a clue what that looks like.

My brain bounces back to my sixteenth birthday. My father was home then, which meant he was yelling. At my mother, at Beck, at the neighbor, who knows?

But that time he turned on my mom. Backing her up with his hand on her throat, I knew he was seconds from hitting her. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen it, but it was the first time I felt big enough to stop it.

“Leave her alone.” I gave him a shove, releasing a torrent of expletives.

“Fucking pansy-ass prick,” he snarled, whirling to face me. “You think you can tell me what to do in my own home?”

I was shaking inside, but I didn’t back down. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you.”

I’m not sure what Dad saw in my eyes. Whatever it was, it’slikely the trait that makes me a fucking good SEAL. To the best of my knowledge, he hasn’t touched Mom since that day.

Which still doesn’t mean their marriage is much to celebrate.

“Divorce is a sin,” she sobs through the phone now. “You and Sara were practically married. Isn’t there some way to work this out?”

“I don’t think so.” There’s no way I can tell her the truth. The real reasons I called it all off. “We want different things.”

“What does that mean?” She sniffles. “I don’t understand. You love each other. Youdo.” She isn’t wrong there. “You just need to go back to church and get your heads on straight. Go talk to her.”

“I plan to.”

“You do?” She brightens at that, but I can’t let Mom get her hopes up.

“I owe her a proper goodbye,” I say softly. “The least I can do is give Sara the one thing she asked for.”

“Which is what?”

Sex, I think sadly, but there’s no way I’ll say that.

“Closure,” I say, and that’s true as well. “A full explanation.” Maybe notfull, but the best I can do. “I need to tell Sara goodbye.”

As I swallow the lump in my throat, I hate myself more than I ever thought possible.

So I’m ready for Sara to hate me as well.

CHAPTER 3

SARA

“Would you like something to drink?”

The polished brunette in a striking gray sheath dress opens a fridge in her office. “Water, white wine, passionfruit kombucha?—”

“Just water is fine.” I nibble my lip and toy with the fringe on the strap of my purse. “Actually, kombucha sounds good.”

With a brisk nod, she pours the drink into a chilled crystal glass and hands it to me.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” As she folds her hands on the desk, I spot the wedding ring on her finger. “I’m Kora Neville,” she says. “I know I introduced myself in the lobby, but you seemed a bit…”

“Insane?” I sputter my drink, since I may as well laugh at myself. “I promise I don’t normally introduce myself as ‘Sara the sex-starved virgin.’ Especially not to the janitor.”

Kora smiles kindly. “Adio is a very dear man with six grandchildren. He asked me to return this to you.” She hands me the dog-eared sex manual that I awkwardly handed the cleaning guy.

“Thanks,” I say, dying a little inside.

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