Alec doesn’t even acknowledge Honey. He takes the tray of drinks off my hand and carries it with both of his. “Ready?”
I nod. “Mm-hm.”
Once we’re away from the bar area and heading across the sand, he glances at me. “What was that all about back there? It looked like you were under interrogation.”
“Almost.” I arch a brow at him. “I think Honey has you in her sights.”
He scoffs. “She’s not my type.”
“No? What is your type, then?”
He looks at me and doesn’t say anything for what feels like the longest time. “I’m still figuring it out.”
We arrive back at the bonfire and distribute the drinks. Everyone is caught up in conversation and laughter as the musicplays in the background and the shouts and applause carries over from the limbo game.
Pierre murmurs to Colette in French. Jess catches my eye across the fire and gives me a look that says everything words would ruin. They all see it. Whatever Alec and I look like from outside this circle, everyone around this bonfire sees us as a couple.
The party winds down in slow degrees. The Tremblays leave first, Colette pressing her lips to both my cheeks and whispering goodnight. Jess and Mike follow them back to the resort. Kai waves as he lopes off to join some of the other resort workers at the bar. The fire burns lower.
Alec seems to have drifted closer to me. I can feel the heat of him as he leans toward me. “I was thinking of walking back along the beach, instead of through the resort.” A pause. “The path by the water is longer, but if you’re up for it?—”
“Sure. Let’s go.”
We leave the bonfire behind and the shift is immediate. Steel pan music fading to surf. Firelight giving way to moonlight on dark water. Sand cool and loose under my bare feet. His arm brushes mine as we walk, and neither of us adjusts the distance. The warmth of him beside me in the dark is steady, constant, a presence I can feel along my entire left side.
We talk about the bonfire. About Jess, who reminds me of Lisa. About Pierre, who Alec says is the kind of man he’d have no idea how to be, which is such an honest, unexpected thing to say that it quiets me for a few steps. Then the conversation drifts the way conversations do when it’s dark and the ocean is right there and the lack of eye contact makes honesty easier.
I tell him about growing up in Hoboken. My mom working reception at a medical office, my dad pulling doubles at the plant. Two little sisters I haven’t seen in too long. No college, because working was more urgent than learning, and by the timeI could have gone back, waitressing had become the thing I was good at instead of the thing I was doing until something better came along.
He listens. Not the distracted kind of listening where someone is only waiting for their turn. Real listening, the kind where the silence between my sentences feels held, not empty.
“After Jake and I broke up, I moved to Sedona on my own,” I say.
Alec smiles. “Right. Pointed at a map with your eyes closed and landed in Arizona.”
I smile at him. “You remember what I told you on the plane?”
“Of course.” He grins. “It was kind of hard to forget.”
That grin. He almost never does it. When he does, his whole face opens up and I lose track of what I was about to say because my brain is too busy replaying the way that mouth felt on mine on the veranda. The pressure of his hand at my back. The half-second where he kissed me like he meant it before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to.
He glances at me and I hope to God he can’t read the direction of my thoughts.
“Choosing a place at random isn’t something I would ever do in my life,” he says.
“No? Maybe you should try it sometime.”
He chuckles. “New York is my home. The most random thing I might pick is my sock color in the morning. No, that’s not even true. I don’t leave that to chance either.”
I stare at him. “That’s actually a sad thing to admit. You know that, right?”
He shrugs. “I like stability. I like order. I’m not big on surprises.”
“Then you must’ve really loved getting stuck with me this week.” I brave another look at him and find him watching me. Not smiling now, just looking. The full weight of it lands low inmy belly and stays there, but I try to play it off with a laugh. “Surprise! You’re rooming with a woman who runs on caffeine and chaos.”
“It’s not so bad.”
His voice is so low when he says it. Almost quiet enough to be meant for himself. My whole body responds to it, stomach tightening, skin flushing hot under my dress despite the breeze coming off the water. The space around us feels charged and on the knife’s edge of something neither of us is willing to acknowledge.
