Page 18 of Second Chance Vacation

A faint smile paints across my lips as I push one of the fluffy pastries in front of him.

“I was never fighting you, Viv.”

The faint smirk he wears as he presses his mug to his lips sends my stomach into a whirl, in addition to the presence of my childhood nickname. I heard him say it when we saw each other at the airport, but this is the first time I am allowing myself to listen to it without a negative reaction. I don’t talk to people from home often. Rarely do I hear it much these days. It gives me pause, a long-lost sense of familiarity I haven’t experienced in years.

I still am not sure if that is a good or a bad thing.

Jackson grabs one of the fluffy pastries from my napkin, taking a bite.

“I know, I just—”

“I’m just trying to enjoy a pleasant trip with friends. We can play friends, right, Gen?”

The way he says it feels like a knife to the gut. Play friends, a concept that shouldn’t bring discomfort in me but does nonetheless. My stomach drops, a sour feeling making my coffee taste bitter. I realize that part of me, even a tiny amount, misses his friendship. Our romantic relationship history aside, we were friends long before our lips ever met.

“Of course.” I force a smile, one that I am pretty sure he can tell is anything but genuine. We plunge into a comfortable silence, gazing off in the same direction as the sun falls away from the horizon, slipping into a semblance of the morning instead of the twilight zone we’ve been experiencing for the past twenty minutes.

“So, I think we’re supposed to be going into town today,” I say, my voice significantly more assertive than it was before.

I’m not entirely sure whether this is because of my finding the nerve or the caffeine setting in. Weirdly enough, he doesn’t bite for conversation. He is either deep in thought or comfortable in the silence, which of sorts I’m not sure. I enjoy being around him more than I remembered. If I am being completely honest, that is something that scares me. We used to exist like this before we attempted our ill-fated relationship. Maybe we can find that place again.

* * *

When we arrive at the market, it doesn’t take long before Savannah is gallivanting away from Wesley with me plastered to her side. While Savannah has an arsenal of talents, subtlety isn’t one of them.

“So, how are things with Jackson?”

Since we arrived in France, Savannah has been dead set on not abandoning her matchmaking efforts.

Is it still a match being made if it used to exist on its own?

“Don’t start,” I say as I glare at her with a half-amused gaze. I know what she is still trying to do, and while I am glad I came and had the opportunity to talk to Jackson, I can say with certainty that it isn’t going to be anything romantic. “It’s fine. He’s tolerable.”

“Tolerable.” Savannah’s amusement inclines me to the fact that she is about to say something stupid. “The same Jackson you were head over heels in love with when I met you?”

“I never said I was in love.” The loudest whisper escapes my lips, reprimanding her and hoping that Jackson is just out of earshot.

I wasn’t ever in love with Jackson, which is factually correct. While I’ll be the first to admit I cared deeply for him, I’d be hard-pressed to call it love. We were kids. We were doing the things young couples did—nothing more, nothing less.

“Yeah, okay.”

I am shot with an eye roll so intense I am convinced she could have strained them. Savannah is, at her core, a hopeless romantic, whereas I prefer my romances to be fictional.

“Hey, guys!” Savannah shifts mindsets quicker than she approached the previous topic. “I say we grab brunch, then head down to the water for a bit.”

My stomach lurches. I can feel Jackson’s eyes on me, burrowing into my periphery.

Jackson meets Savannah’s suggestion with resistance, something I am relieved by. “The beach is overrated. Let’s do something else.”

“But we’re in Saint-Tropez? The beach is the best part.”

“And we have beaches in Georgia.”

“Not French beaches.”

“Still water and sand, Savannah.”

“Fine.” Savannah huffs as she approaches Wesley. “But if we’re not going to the beach, I want to shop.”

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