I close my eyes, and she pulls back first. Her smile is soft and careful, and it’s as if she has no idea what she just did to me.
“Good night, Cal. See you tomorrow.”
I wave. “Night, Silvie.”
She walks inside Birdie’s, and I turn when I hear the lock click into place.
I don’t move and stand there longer than I should, my hands now shoved in my pockets. I know one thing for sure.
If kissing Silvie felt as amazing as it did to hold her, I’m in trouble.
I don’t think I can fight these feelings like I thought I could.
11
Silvie
I checkmy phone for the tenth time in the past few minutes. I’ve been standing here waiting for Wilby at the single terminal in Coconut Beach. Eight fifty-seven. His flight landed at eight forty-three, which means he’s due at the baggage claim any moment now.
The Coconut Beach airport has exactly one baggage carousel and absolutely no sense of urgency. Here in Coconut Beach, that’s just the way. You’re on island time, and it’s pretty chill here. Everything and everyone is, including their airport.
There are three people in the baggage claim area. One of them is asleep, and another one is eating a hot dog, staring out the window. The third is me, nervous and anxious to finally see my friend.
The music flips toFree Fallin’, and the glass doors slide open. Wilby DeSoto steps into baggage claim, and the air shifts with his larger-than-life energy. He’s tall, fit in that quietly lethal way, all long lines and easy confidence. His haircut is perfect, sharp at the edges, styled like he woke up handsome and stayed that way. His skin is olive and golden, his jaw strong, his mouth unfairly nice, the kind of face that belongs on billboards or magazine covers, not waiting for luggage with the rest of us. Linen pants, immaculate leather shoes that have never known struggle, sunglasses worn indoors because he can get away with it. He pulls a dark, sleek, wheeled bag behind him, posture relaxed but purposeful, like he always knows where he’s headed and assumes the world will clear a path. I don’t even pretend notto stare. Some men walk into a room. Wilby arrives like a headline. And I love that about him. He’s confident, sure of himself and the best friend a girl could ask for.
He looks so far out of place here on the casual island that I almost laugh. But I’m too relieved to see him.
He stops dead and looks around, sliding off his sunglasses. “Oh.”
I wave enthusiastically, and he raises an eyebrow at me, full of shock and concern.
“Welcome to paradise,” I call out.
He looks up at the ceiling and sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me that this place was tiny and smells like sunscreen and beach?”
I jog over and throw my arms around my human equivalent of a black cat personality. He stiffens for half a second and then hugs me back tight. We play this game where we irritate each other, but the truth is we’re besties. Whether he likes it or not, I’ve claimed him and he’s claimed me. We have our work hats...and then we have our friend hats. And right now, we’re wearing our friend hats.
“You look tan and relaxed,” he says into my hair. “That’s alarming. Who are you and what have you done to my suit wearing workaholic best friend?”
“And you look overdressed. What happened to island casual?” I tease.
He scoffs. “This is casual.”
Back in New York, I dressed the same. But here? Something’s changed. I love the casual, and I’m fully embracing it. Most days, I spend in yoga shorts and a sports bra, and then in sundresses. Casual is my new favorite look.
“You’re smiling more. I’m suspiciously hopeful.” He pulls back and looks at me, eyes narrowing. “Should I be worried?”
I shake my head, grinning at him. “For once, you don’t have to worry. I’m enjoying the relaxed, summer life.” Then, I pat my stomach. “And I’m eating at all the good restaurants and food trucks, not even thinking about my dress size. My mother would be horrified at my calorie carelessness.”
“The woman turned you into a skeleton this past year. Her opinion doesn’t matter.” He motions for me to turn around so he can admire my new curves. When he whistles and gives my butt a little smack, I crack up laughing. “My girl has cake now!” Then, as if scandalized, hegasps. “What are you wearing on your feet? You went and ruined the whole look with those.”
“Flip flops?” I grin. “They’re comfortable and you don’t have to worry about sand in your shoes. All you have to do is give them a little flip and a flop andvoila! Sand is gone.”
He looks pained. “I knew it. You’re becoming a local.”
I shrug. “I do live here. For now.”
Despite his razzing, there’s visible relief in his gaze. It melts my heart how much he cares for me. I know I worried him, but hopefully he’ll see how much I’ve healed since coming here.
