I’m supposedto be at a late lunch with Emma and Sabrina, but instead, I’m helping Theo check out of the urgent care clinic across town from the resort after getting his eyes washed out.
And he’s flirting shamelessly with the receptionist.
There are grins. Swollen winks. Leaning on the desk to be closer to her, but acting like he needs it for support.
Just like he was flirting with Claire yesterday, and just like he was laughing with the triplets after I put the fire out on his costume.
“Point again where I need to sign?” he says to the receptionist. “Can’t see all that well yet.”
I throw up in my mouth.
She steers his hand to the line he needs to sign on, studies his tattooed forearm longer than necessary, then beams at him like he’s the love child of Pele the Volcano Goddess and Ryan Reynolds. “Are you sure you’ve never been here?”
“First time on the island.”
She looks at his arm again. “You just seemsofamiliar.”
Is he—is Theoblushing?
Does helikeher?
Of course he does. Theo likes everyone. Everyone except me. And no matter how many times I try to tell myself I don’t care,I do.
I’m not mean. I don’t burn down people’s houses or steal their animals or cheat at board games.
Good god, I’m boring.
No wonder Mr. Fun doesn’t like me.
“Must have one of those faces,” he says.
She squints at him. “I don’t think I recognize you, but I feel like we’ve talked before. Is that weird?”
“If you’re done, honey, we really need to get to dinner,” I interject perkily. I fake a smile at the receptionist. “Wedding plans.”
“Not our wedding, and she only calls me honey because she’s my sister,” Theo says to the receptionist.
I hate him.
Officially.
I hate him. If I never see Theo Monroe again after this week, it will be too soon.
Because now I’m embarrassed on top of being irritated.
“Anything else, darlin’?” he says to the receptionist.
She smiles at him like she wants to ask for his phone number. “Not from us. Doyouneed anything else?”
He has red, swollen eye sockets and bloodshot eyeballs. Like,badbloodshot eyeballs. His shirt isn’t buttoned straight, or even all the way up. His hair’s sticking up all over the place, with sand visible in it, and she’sflusteredbecause he called her darlin’.
I quit life.
I do. I quit.
I’m a nice, respectable, successful, moderately attractive woman, and I don’t turn heads the way Theo turns heads when he looks like an extra in a redneck zombie movie.
“We need to go,” I say crisply.
