Will wasn’t interested in acknowledging any of my reasoning for this, though. All he heard was that I wasn’t going to Mexico. Over the course of nine days, we argued about the whole holiday mess via text. I knew he’d turn on that firm, demanding voice and make me tell him how my pussy felt if we talked, but sending his calls to voicemail only annoyed him. Neither of us got what we wanted, but a bouquet of plum calla lilies appeared in my office later that week and I texted him a picture of my (mostly covered) boobs and it was over.
We weren’t back to normal—or whatever qualified as normal for us—yet either. Will had been tied up most of the week, and I hadn’t heard anything more than a quick text since he arrived in Cabo San Lucas last night.
I spent the evening tucked beside the fireplace, drinking away my brain cells and picking at the food Andy repeatedly forced in front of me.
“There are too many depressed people here,” she muttered. “Tonight’s supposed to be fun! Joyful!”
“How did I not know that you were a secret holiday fanatic?” I nodded at her crimson trousers. “I don’t think I like this. I prefer Andy the ice queen.” My phone started vibrating in my pocket, and she arched her eyebrows when I yanked it out to see my surfer on the shore. “I’ll just take this…somewhere else.”
I handed the plate back to her, and ducked into the bedroom. “Hello?”
“Shannon,” Will said. He stretched my name out into a long, rumbling sigh, all kinds of “Stella!” andA Streetcar Named Desire. “You aren’t in Mexico.”
There was a party on the other side of the door, with music and laughter and people happy to spend time together, but I didn’t want to be there. I moved deeper into the bedroom, and headed for the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind me. “Are you drunk?”
“Yes,” he drawled. “My sister ordered shots. Lots of shots. Like, all the shots. I can’t believe I taught her to drink tequila. And you know me. I can’t let a little girl drink me under the table.”
“Of course not,” I laughed. “If this is the state you’re in, how’s she holding up?”
Will laughed. “She grabbed Matt’s dick and said a few things I never thought I’d hear out of my sister. I kept drinking with the shady hope I’d forget the whole experience.”
“Oh yeah, she’s a dirty bird,” I said, settling on the edge of the tub.
“Please don’t tell me those things,” he said. He grunted, and if I listened closely, I could hear waves crashing.
“Are you on the beach?”
“I’m looking at the Pacific Ocean and my ass is in the sand,” he said.
“It’s a rough life,” I said, threading my necklace between my fingers.
“I hate you right now. You know why?”
I laughed. “I believe the tequila will tell me.”
“Because I’ve spent eleven days with you in the past eight months and that’s all it took for me to fall for you. Because I’ve sent you over five thousand texts and called you two hundred and eighteen times and you know what I have to show for all that? I fuckingloveyou, and you’re there and I’m here and that’s why I hate you.”
The necklace was wrapped tight around my fingers, the delicate gold chain digging grooves into my skin that bit enough to keep those words from hitting my heart all at once. “The tequila isn’t going to remember this conversation tomorrow, honey.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Tequila never forgets,” he sighed. “You were wrong. You should have come.”
“That’s where we still disagree,” I said. I wanted it to sound pleasant and light, but it came off harsh. Cold.
“You should have come,” he repeated. “My parents would probably fight over which one of them liked you more. They’d just chop you to pieces and eat you because you’re so perfect. And this place…I could’ve taken you out sailing or diving. Or shots. You’re a fun drunk. And there’s a huge bed in my room, too. I can’t look at it without thinking about you.”
I stayed quiet. He was drunk and rambling, and he didn’t mean any of this. It didn’t matter whether those words—the ones I didn’t want and certainly didn’t need—were wrapping me in a painfully sweet embrace right now, or that a thick, confused blob of emotion was pulsing in my chest.
“I’m tired of secrets, Shannon. You’ll either fuck me in public or you won’t fuck me at all.”
“What?”
“That didn’t come out right,” he mumbled. “Shannon,” he continued, almost too low to hear. “The only thing I wanted was to wake up next to you and stop this fucking game where you don’t want anyone to know that you’re fucking me, and it’s not about the sex. I just want to bewithyou.”
I dropped my head to my hand and gulped back a groan. “Will. I couldn’t go.”
That wasn’t completely accurate, and we both knew that, but I couldn’t cobble together any further argument tonight.
“There’s a bell,” he said, “on base, in Coronado. In the middle of the courtyard. Regular old brass bell. Almost two-thirds of the guys who go through SEAL training ring that bell. They bow out. Drop your helmet, walk away, no questions asked.”
