Her back’s to me, her fingers are entwined with mine, and she keeps tracing aimless shapes onto my knuckles with the pad of her thumb.
“You know,” she murmurs, breaking the silence. “We never did confront Ed over his piss-poor management.”
I rest my chin on the crook of her shoulder. “You still want to?”
“I don’t know. We did play a lot of hooky,” she muses. “Getting paid to enjoy a fun little vacation was probably the best revenge we could have done.”
“We’re not telling him that?—”
“Oh. No. Definitely not. We’re taking this to the grave,” she says with her trademark creaky laugh. “You’d better blow off work again if you go to the conference next year.”
“How are you the same person who gets on my ass about proper capitalization in spreadsheets?” I ask out loud.
“It’s about the pivot tables,” she gasps, hurling a glance over her shoulder. Her nose scrunches. “Everything looks super sloppy when we have six lines for the same category, and then I have higher-ups breathing down my neck, wondering what’s up with that.”
“They do?” My brows knit.
“Yes?” She purses her lips. “Why do you think I’m always asking you to tweak your team’s reports and update the SOPs? I know clients don’t give a shit as long as everything is properly keyed, but our higher-ups care, and they’re the ones who decide who survives restructures and lay-offs. Both QA and QC end up looking bad if they think we’re all doing sloppy work.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Disbelief spears me as I stare into her eyes. “Earlier?”
“Ethan, you were always shutting me down and telling me not to overstep pretty much every morning.” She levels me with an arched look. “But that’s because you thought I was trying to get you fired, right?”
“Shit. Barbie, I?—”
“It’s fine, Ethan. I’m glad we’re able to clear the air now.” The sincerity in her eyes amplifies the guilt forming in my chest. “I bet tomorrow morning will bea lotsmoother, for once.”
“I should apologize,” I say. “For always shutting you down. I thought you were trying to screw me over and get my team fired, but having gotten the chance to know you these past few days, I realize now that it’s not something you’d ever do.”
“Duh, Ethan. I’m notlame,” she says with a bright giggle. “I’m down to commit insider trading with you before I leave the company.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” I reply without missing a beat and banish the thought of Conjugal Visit Barbie from my head. “We should really set up some time to discuss this?—”
“Oh my God.” She groans loudly. “Ethan. I need you to promise me tostoptalking shop off hours. It’s Sunday. The sky is so pretty over the beach. We have two hours left together, and I would love to have breakfast with you before we fly home.”
Her grin widens, heavy with a tease, as I hold her gaze. I can’t shake the thought from my head: two hours left before we leave Calysto’s Beach, and I’ll likely never see her again. Especially after she turns in her two weeks’ notice.
With a rough exhale, I flash her one of my own. “Think nothing’s opened this early. Besides the donut shop?—”
“Ooh. I could go for some donut holes.”
“Something about the glaze-to-donut ratio?” I tease, and her face softens with a laugh.
“Exactly.” Strands of her hair ribbon with the breeze as she grins at me. “But after I get a picture.”
“Of the sunrise?”
“Ofus.With the sunrise,” she corrects, wriggling her ass against me as she slides her hand to her back pocket, only to frown a beat later. “Crap. I must have left my phone back at the hotel?—”
“Allow me.” I retrieve mine, eliciting a loud whoop from her as she smushes her cheek to mine and grabs the front of my shirt.
“On second thought,” she begins, “we look like we pulled an all-nighter. So let’s just take a generic picture of the beach at sunrise—” She splutters when I snap a photo. “Ethan.”
“Yes, Barbie?”
“I’d like a nice picture with you.”
“This is a nice picture,” I say.
