I’m still not sure I’m ready to reveal all about Jason and me, though. I’m not even sure what there is to reveal about Jason and me. We’ve had two nights together, one furtive and fueled by grief. Last night was different. Not in how he touched me, because I asked for that dominance again, and he delivered. But in the way he checked in, the way he panicked when I choked, the way he said babe like he was trying it on for size. A glimpse of what could be, if either of us is willing to let go of Leah's ghost. I'm not at all sure Jason will ever be ready.
I hand the sunscreen back to Silas. “Will you tell your parents about Logan?”
”Oh, for sure,” he says. ”It’s only been a couple of months and they were on this epic cruise to Australia and New Zealand in January, so I haven’t actually seen them since before the holidays. Logan wanted me to wait until I was sure I wanted to be with him long-term before I told them anyway.”
“And do you?“ I ask. “Want to be with him long-term?”
Silas gives this happy-sounding sigh. “Forever and ever until we die,“ he says. A cloud passes over his face and he gives me a stern look. “And don’t tell me that he’ll die long before me. I could get hit by a bus before his next birthday. Or get cancer and die young like Kelsey’s mom.”
Don’t I know it.
“Well, I’m nearly the same age as Logan and I have no intention of dying any time soon,“ I tell him.
Silas gives me a sunny smile. “That’s the spirit.”
I smile back at him as he raises his phone to his face and starts scrolling through it. I pick up my own phone and grab my notebook from the small bag I’d brought to the poolside. Now’s as good a time as any to plan some spin workouts for when I’m back home next week.
First, I sit up and twist around to snap a selfie with the waterfall at the end of the pool in the background. After some minor edits to the photo, I post it on my social media accounts, with appropriate hashtags and a light apology to my followers for missing the annual anti-Valentine’s Day ride I usually do. It’s a snarky mix of breakup songs and songs about bad lovers and it’s a fan favorite every year.
I’m scrolling through my massive workout playlist and a theme jumps out at me. Forbidden love. I start jotting down some song options.
Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield. A little on the nose, maybe, considering that I’m currently fucking the man who was my best friend’s husband, but it’s a great song for a hard climb.
Hot For Teacher by Van Halen. Fits the forbidden theme, even if no band could get away with that nowadays. Is being hot for a music director the same as being hot for Teacher? I don’t know but the song’s chorus plays in the back of my mind while I continue scrolling through my playlists.
Speaking of inappropriate relationships, I’m going to skip The Police’s Don’t Stand So Close To Me. Even if it were an awesome workout song, it’s too much ick.
I catch sight of I Want the One I Can’t Have by The Smiths as I scroll, and yeah, ouch. That one hits hard, considering the years I’ve been pining after Jason. I skip that one. Too close to home.
The thing is, I can have Jason. At least for a few more days. That's more than I ever thought I'd get. I should be savoring every minute instead of already dreading the end.
And here’s Dirty Little Secret by the All-American Rejects, and is my playlist literally mocking me right now? I snort to myself.
“Wait, what the hell?” Silas jerks upright and glares at his phone.
I glance over at him. “Something wrong?”
Silas looks up, across the pool area toward the reception area, then looks down at his phone again. He swipes his thumb down, scrolling to the top of whatever he’s looking at, and his blond brows draw together as his green eyes flick rapidly side to side.
“My producer just emailed me,” he says. “Apparently, the arranger who was supposed to work on the chorus pieces in my musical is no longer available.”
I have no idea what this means, but Silas sounds pretty distressed by it. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there someone else who can do it?”
“I don’t know,” Silas sputters. “James—he’s my producer—he said that this guy is one of the best vocal arrangers on Broadway. But if he’s changed his mind about working on my musical, I don’t know who else will.”
He pokes at his phone a few times, and swipes his thumb down the screen again, while his left knee starts bouncing on the lounger. “James says not to worry about it until we get back, but what if he can’t find someone else?” He whips his sun hat off, fans his face with it, and starts fumbling with the belongings he’d brought to the pool.
“Hey,” I say. I swing my legs around and turn sideways on my lounger so I’m facing him.
“I’m gonna…” Silas’s head swivels side to side, though I’m not sure what he’s looking for. “I need to get back to our room.”
I reach toward him and pat the lounger near his leg to get his attention. I don’t want to touch him without his consent, but he’s clearly in the middle of an anxiety attack. “If you want to go back to your room, that’s okay, but if you don’t want to be alone, I’m here for you.”
He looks at me, his green eyes wide. His fingers pluck at the brim of his hat and they’re shaking a little. “I need to talk to Logan.”
“I know,” I say. I’m pretty sure Logan is going to be just as distressed that he’s not here for his boy, but the resort staff had warned us that cellular service is spotty in the cloud forest. “Do you want to text him? Even if he doesn’t get the message immediately, he’ll see it when he gets back in a place with better reception.”
“I don’t know,” Silas mutters. “I don’t know if that will help. He’s not here, but I really need to talk to him.”
