Page 35 of Hate To Love You

“I’ll always think about that kiss,” Apollo whispers.

I wince on instinct but then force my face placid to hide any trace of emotion. I want to be the old me—the old Patience who wasn’t afraid to say what she was thinking. I haven’t been that fearless girl in a long time. “I’ll probably always remember it too. Even if it should never have happened.”

He gives me that ghost of a smile—the one so charming and sweet that it makes me want to change my mind. I want to taste that smile on his lips. I kissed him. My childhood best friend. My fake husband. I freaking kissed him, and I don’t wish I could invest in a brain scrubber, a mind eraser, or a time machine to undo it.

We’re going back to Dedind, probably at different times, but we’ll be there together.

I know Apollo thought our time out here would be different. So did I. But it hasn’t been the worst. Far, far from it. Does that count for anything at all when I’m still leaving?

“Can I walk you back to the house?”

Why do I feel like that’s Apollo’s way of not taking no for an answer?

I nod. If it gets any thicker out here, the mosquitoes might legit carry me off or suck me bloodless. I need my blood if I want to figure out what I’m going to do with my life from this point forth.

CHAPTER 13

Patience

Jesus. Apollo never said he liked me, but we kissed.

Now that I’ve been thinking about it, I have to wonder when it happened.

It’s perfectly normal to have a childhood crush on your childhood best friend. Kids feel love differently. That would be cute. But now? You can’t feel something like that for someone you don’t even know. And Apollo? He’s known me for a hot minute. A few days. He can’t like me that way. He can’t even feel proper infatuation. He’s confused. He feels this sense of duty and obligation, and it’s all mixed up with the sweetness of childhood nostalgia and the burden of a promise. Even just thinking he finds me attractive is enough to send me spiraling in ways I don’t want.

I need to talk to my dad about going back home, which also means talking to him about the business and the shares. He’s not going to like it, so I’m going to have to help him see reason. It seems like a good conversation for the plane as we fly home together. This wasn’t the vacation he thought it was going to be, and he hadn’t taken a break in years. Neither of us has. That alone makes me feel guilty, never mind anything else.

When I got back to the house, he was already in his room. John was holed away, too, so at least there was a modicum of silence in the house.

Apollo walked back with me, and it was the most awkward walk of my life. We were both so quiet even though our thoughts screamed and echoed like wounded animals in the night. He didn’t come in with me. He said he was going to stay out there for a bit, and since I’m not into betting—I wasn’t, even before the whole stupid poker game that changed my life overnight—I’m not going to say I bet he’s swimming out there.

My mind goes straight to him out there in the pool—hard strokes taking him from one end to the other while he’s battling his thoughts, trying to forget, and trying to make peace, the water offering comfort, like an embrace around his strong, muscled body.

Great. That really helps.

I need to find my dad instead of sitting here and letting my brain get out of control with out-of-control thoughts that get my out-of-control hormones fired up.

I creep into the hallway and knock on my dad’s door. It’s not that late, so I know he’s not sleeping. “Dad?”

“Come in, honey.”

I open the door and slip inside. This room is all about the tropics, with lush foliage painted all over the wall. Palm trees, blue skies, even bluer waters, and fluffy clouds flow through most of the room, and on the far end, a huge volcano is painted above the bed. It’s a massive thing, carved out with four posts and a soft green canopy that billows around it. The bedding is also tropical-themed, with various sizes of palm trees splashed across it.

“We’re going home tomorrow,” I announce. I don’t want it to be up for debate. I don’t want there to be room to change my mind.

Dad’s always been able to read me. He raised me, and we always work together. We also live in the same house, and we don’t spend time away from each other. It’s why he lifts a brow at that. “Okay,” is all he says in response.

“We’re going back home.”

“Yes. Okay,” he says again.

“I know you’ve been worried about the company, and I know you didn’t want to leave it. Leaving someone else in charge is hard, but you haven’t had days off in years. I’m sorry this wasn’t the best vacation in the world.”

He walks over and hugs me hard. Dad’s hugs have always melted me. He’s never been afraid to give them. “It was perfect because it was with you.”

“It was far from perfect,” I scoff, pulling away. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that John would be here.”

“I’m sorry we’ve acted so immaturely these past few days and for so many years. You and Apollo shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of that.”

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