Page 45 of Second Chance Vacation

The insistence to keep going despite her discomfort cuts into me.

Why would she even think to say that?

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s go downstairs and grab food.” I gently remove her hand from my groin and stand up as Gen grabs my bicep.

“But you didn’t—”

Is she serious right now?

“Not everything is about a finish line, Viv. You’re hungry.” I smirk. “Besides, it would be rude of me to have an entire feast for breakfast and leave you with nothing.”

It takes her a moment to catch the implication before she slaps my arm, trying to stifle a laugh.

“You are foul!”

“And you are hungry, so let’s go.” She finally stops fighting me as she throws my T-shirt from the day before on before following me down into the kitchen.

While I love cooking, I don’t get to cook breakfast as much as I would like. I’ve never been much of a ‘stay the night’ kind of guy, and I often only wake up in enough time to guzzle down a cup of black coffee during my commute.

Cracking two eggs for each of us into the cast iron pan, the sizzle crowds the room. I look over at Gen, staring off into space. I am desperate to know what she is thinking about as she bites down on her bottom lip.

“How do you like your eggs?”

Over easy.

“Over easy would be great,” she says as if she can hear my thoughts. Apparently, despite everything that has changed, some things stay the same.

I finish preparing her eggs, along with bacon and toast, pushing her plate in front of her. We sit in silence as she devours her food, and I push mine around my plate. Not that I’m not hungry, hell—I am starving, but the racing of my thoughts when I look at Gen leaves me with more questions than appetite.

“Do you want some OJ?” Gen jumps up, peppier than before now that she has had sustenance. I nod in response, watching her pull the bottle from the fridge. As the fridge closes, Gen’s eyes meet a pair of eyes that aren’t mine, leaving her resembling a deer on a dark country night.

Savannah.

Wes and Savannah are back from Cannes, and I am embarrassed to admit to myself that I completely forgot they are even on this trip with us.

“What are you wearing?” Savannah quirks a brow with a smile so wide I am counting the moments until Gen smacks her for it. She nods toward the thin V-neck hanging off Gen’s frame.

Gen, however, looks like a ghost. Wes appears beside Savannah, unbeknownst until his eyes meet the same T-shirt Savannah is fixated on.

“Damn it.” He reacts with minimal affliction, putting his bag on the counter.

Is he seriously disappointed by this? I am ready to shout it from the rooftops. The least my best friend could do is pretend to be happy about it. I shoot him a glare, forcing him to realize the expression on Gen’s face.

“Oh—not. This—this isn’t a bad thing. But…” He pauses, sliding his hands in his front pockets awkwardly. “I…owe Savannah fifty bucks, though.”

Seriously guys?

The look of horror painting Gen’s expression leaves me in a state of limbo between amused and compassionate. She looks traumatized by this new revelation. I, however, am struggling to hold back the laugh bubbling up in my throat. A grin breaks through my demeanor, and Gen meets it with a glare.

“This is not funny.”

I bite my lip, trying not to laugh, but as soon as I hear a squeak leave Savannah’s throat, followed by a giggle, I lose it to a fit of laughter.

“Stop it!”

Savannah, Wes, and I are quickly lost in our amusement. I really am trying to hold it back for Gen’s sake as she is clearly embarrassed, but the more our friends laugh, the more I can’t help joining them. With every chuckle that leaves one of us, Gen’s face grows redder. She points a glare at me that leaves me trying to stifle my laugh.

Wes reaches into his wallet before dramatically placing a crisp fifty-dollar bill in Savannah’s hand, which she holds up to the light, making a spectacle of the scene transpiring. We all know she doesn’t give a shit about the fifty dollars but is just reveling in the prospect of winning. She is probably also rolling from the fact that her evil plan seems to actually be working.

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