He’s on the page now with underwater photos. Each one in there reminds me of Tristan, the snag in my time here that’s yet to materialize. I’ve stopped holding my breath. “It’s only a three-month contract though,” I say. “They close the resort for two months over April and May as it’s the rainy season.” Good thing too. I’m not one for cyclones and hurricanes. I’ve already had my fill, and even a strong wind can reduce my stomach to a pulsing ulcer of anxiety. “It looks like they’re looking for a stopgap. Or it’s a probation period, but…”
“But?”
“The position is for a managerial couple. The gig isn’t geared for singles.” Which is too bad. It would have been the perfect solution to my problem and the perfect escape. Especially since the contract runs until early April—way past the Oscars and any rogue Mia Reed promotional stunts.
It would give me time to look for something else while I hunker down on an island in the middle of nowhere, but the biggest lure for me? It could give me a foot in the door at Beaumont Hotels. I’ve been on and off on the Beaumont website all day, and it’s like dipping in and out of a fairytale with all the gorgeous chateaux they own in Europe. St Chalamet isAmerican classy, like Jackie Kennedy. Beaumont is the original Coco Chanel.
“Come on, Lexi, this looks fantastic. Don’t let a minor detail put you off. Where’s the job description?” Evan asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “With your work experience, you can easily manage an über-exclusive twelve-room resort without an extra pair of hands.”
I laugh at his tone and point at the webpage. “It’s there.” For a moment, I lean back and stare at the stars shining through the Miami haze, dipping into the dream of going to Ne’emba Island. Crickets start up their nightly song. I’m still getting used to the nature noises and relative quiet of this suburb. Imagine falling asleep at night to the caressing rise and retreat of ocean waves…
Evan is quiet, and I loll my head to the side to watch him. He closes the laptop, seeming deep in thought.
“What is it?” I ask.
“They’re looking for a managerial couple because one half runs the hotel, and the other half runs the dive center. Apparently three dives a day are included in their all-inclusive package. Two daytime dives and an optional night dive for overeager folks.”
Hmm… I saw that. Literally glanced over it and zoned out. “Yep. There’s no chance in hell. I’ll keep looking tomorrow.”
“Lexi.” Evan clears his throat. “Hear me out.”
“What?”
“Tristan would give a kidney to spend three months on that island. Trust me.”
“What?” I chuckle as I sit straighter. “A kidney?” I might have wanted Tristan’s cock at some point, but his kidneys he can keep.
“Oh yes.” Evan studies my face. “You know he’s a marine biologist, right? He got his doctorate a couple of years ago.”
It’sDr.Tristan Martinelli now?That’s news, but I’m not sure why I’m surprised. The last time I saw him he’d been wrapping up his master’s degree. He didn’t blast his doctorate all over the internet, and it’s not as if I’d google him. His Instagram account is all I need to get my fix.
Evan leaves the comment hanging for me to probe further.
“Good for him.” I stand, refusing to take the bait. I don’t want to dig deeper into why Tristan would give up a kidney on a whim. “Isn’t your grill ready?”
I walk through the sliding doors to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, which I guzzle down. I pluck the salad ingredients from the fridge and throw stuff together, listening to Evan move around and lift the grill’s hood. Seconds later, raw meat sizzles.
“When did you last see Tristan?” he calls from the veranda.
Five years. Two months. Give or take a few days. I’d just turned nineteen. “I dunno!”
Evan walks into the kitchen, picks a cherry tomato out of the salad and pops it in his mouth.
“Oi! Fingers out of my salad!”
“It must be years?” Evan says around the tomato. “You know, he’s still exactly the same.”
Which means he’s a total dick.
“You two used to get along so well. Sometimes I thought he hung out with me because of you.”
“Dream on, Ev. Tristan hung out with you because he didn’t want to be at home. I came with the house.”
Evan laughs as he opens the fridge and takes out another beer. “And here I thought you were crushing on him like a lovesick teenager.”
Ugh. Gag. Uggggh.Why was I so easy to read back then? I might have been nineteen the last time I’d seen Tristan, butI’ve known him since we moved to Miami and he became best friends with Evan.
Evan winks at me as he strolls back to the grill and flips the burgers.
