Page 43 of Anyone But You
“An extended vacation,” I chuckled.
“Don’t get me wrong—I still miss hot water, my food delivery app, and Wi-Fi, but I think I’m starting to get to that point of acceptance, you know?”
I nodded. I never considered myself an optimist or a pessimist, but a realist. And the reality was that we hadn’t seen a single helicopter, plane, cruise, or cargo ship since our arrival.
“I’m offended.”
“How so?” she asked with uncertainty.
“I’m your food delivery app.”
She snorted, and I grinned. I knew she was about to follow up with a slick comment.
“Knox, leave me alone. There is a big difference between you bringing me a damn turtle and a twenty-piece lemon pepper wing, all flats with bleu cheese.”
“That turtle was delicious,” I insisted.
“It was aight by stranded-on-an-island standards, but we’re not gonna pretend that eating a turtle is better than wings.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, but there are things I wish as well.”
“Like what?”
“Like the coffee you make me every morning.”
“I spit in it every morning.”
I sighed and tightened my arms around her. “I know… that’s what makes it so delicious.”
“You’re disgusting. I never spat in your coffee, weirdo.”
“My day will come,” I said hopefully.
“We should probably get out of the sun because you’re clearly having a heat stroke.
“Relax,” I said, laughing, pulling her back down to me. “I’m joking.” It took me a struggling minute, but I’d finally gotten her settled down. We lay there in silence for several minutes before I finally said something. “Your friends and family must be worried sick about you,” I murmured.
Victoria scoffed. It was a mixture of a laugh and a disbelieving snort. “The person I spent most of my time with is right here with me.” I smiled at that before I realized what it meant. Victoria’s relationships probably suffered because of me and my attempts to consume every single waking moment of her life. “I’m sure my sisters are having a field day doing interviews, sobbing, and telling lies on camera about how close we were and how much they missed me. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started a GoFundMe and started cashing in on my disappearance,” she said matter-of-factly.
It’s the certainty in that statement that makes it so sad.
“What about you?” she asked, hiking her leg up higher on my hip. “What about your family and friends?”
“Oh, you know, the one person I spent most of my time with is right here with me,” I joked, pulling a soft chuckle from her.
“Fair enough, but answer the question.”
I looked up through the canopy of palm trees and considered what I’d tell her. There wasn’t much to tell.
“I don’t know. My father passed away a few years ago. I wouldn’t say we got along, but then again, I wouldn’t say we didn’t. We just… existed.”
“And your mother?”
“She is alive and well, and is a bossy pain in the ass. Unfortunately, we don’t see each other often.”
“Does she not live nearby?”
“She’s an hour away.”
