Page 152 of Gin and Lava

Ned:That’s never what I wanted.

Mason:But you still knew how it would end.

Ned:Something’s off. I don’t know what, but this isn’t over.

Connor:Stop acting like a lawyer. This isn’t a case.

Ned:No, it’s more important.

Mason:Stop. Just stop. I’m tired of hoping for things I can’t have.

I wait for them to respond, but nothing comes. I wait for the three dots to show up, but I don’t even get that. Both of them have no clue what to say. That’s right, the verbose Voss brothers are speechless, and somehow that feels even worse.

50

NAOMI

Iwave to Shauri as she loads her suitcases and wedding dress onto the bell hop’s stand. I’m glad someone else is going to be in charge of her needs for the next forty-eight hours because I’m exhausted.

Turning my red truck away from the resort, I head through the grove of palm trees toward the beach house for one last load. My phone lights up on the dash, and I click “answer” the moment I see Esme’s name.

“Esme!” I say too brightly, realizing I’ve been “on” the whole time I’ve been around Shauri. I’ve been overcompensating, because I’m not ready to explain what’s happening with Mason, or why he won’t be at the wedding. “When does your flight come in? It’s tonight, right?”

“Yes, at eight thirty,” Esme confirms. “But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Oh,” I frown, pulling onto the one-lane road that swings me around the far side of the island. “What’s going on? Is everything OK with—?”

“Holy shit, Naomi,” Esme interrupts. “Why didn’t you tell me you were designing jewelry?”

My stomach leaps into my throat. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s gorgeous!” Esme gushes. “It’s freaking phenomenal. Your pieces are so classy, and sexy at the same time. I should’ve been wearingyour workto premiers for the last year, girl! Your work is hot!”

“What?” I grip the steering wheel and focus on the road, tying to keep myself from driving off it. “How do you know about my jewelry?”

“Mason, of course,” Esme states like that should be obvious. “I’m so impressed with the website he linked in his email. It’s crazy that you’ve got this whole high-end brand, and I’m just now finding out about it! You are so sneaky, girl! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”

I frown. High-end brand? Mystery? Website? What’s she talking about? I haven’t even had the guts to put up a pair of earrings on Etsy.

“And yes—” Esme continues, “your campaign idea to use the cast from Desmond’s show to do a covert social media campaign—it’s freaking brilliant! They’re totally going to go ga-ga over it.”

“Campaign?” I stare at the road, whooshing by me in fast motion. “Esme, what are you talking about?”

“It’s all outlined in Mason’s email,” Esme replies. “Yes, I admit, I was a little judgmental when you and Mason started seeing each other. But it’s clear he really supports you. And I had no idea you made jewelry. This is so exciting! Your work is truly amazing!”

“Uh, thanks,” I say as a wash of warmth and excitement floods over me. It feels good to have Esme say she likes my work—but how the heck does she even know about it? I flick my turn signal on and pull over, parking my truck next to the beach.

My head is spinning.

“Mason is kind of brilliant. He has so many good ideas for how to promote Tate Jewelry,” Esme continues over my speaker phone as I stare out at the ocean.

The wind has kicked up and the sky has started to darken. Large rolling waves crash over themselves in the turbulence of an afternoon squall. After you’ve lived in Hawaii for a while the signs are unmistakable, it’s going to rain at any moment. I can smell the heavy typhoon clouds in the air—thick and ruddy.

“And Mason’s ideas are not half-assed dirty-jokes,” Esme continues. “They’re legitimate concepts for launching your brand. I’m really impressed.”

“Right, of course …” I nod half-heartedly, thinking about how he walked out of my apartment yesterday. “Mason can be … surprising.”

Something in my gut squeezes, and at that exact moment the rain starts to fall—big, flat splats of rain smacking against my windshield.

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