Page 63 of Sand in My Boots

I scroll back to what else I said. “Cutie?”

Excited, she claps her hands. “Yep. Bingo. That will work.”

It kind of slipped out, sort of the way the original one did the first time. At this point, I’m not sure it matters. However, I won’t let her know that.

“Cutie it is.”

After a small debate, we settle on The Greatest Showman. In no way was I in the mood for anything romantic or comedic. A musical is the perfect middle ground.

“We should order popcorn and drinks,” she comments as we’re setting up the balcony. The laptop rests on the small table, our chairs positioned to view it.

“I think you have a plan to get drunk today.”

She brought a blanket from the bed and draped it over her chair. Adding a pillow for comfort, she’s quiet for a moment as she settles into her chair. “Maybe booze will take away the sting,” she finally murmurs so softly I almost miss it.

“The sting of what?” I don’t mean to voice the question, but it discharges anyway.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her arms cross over her chest. “Do liquor stores deliver? Maybe something different than what room service might serve, and like one or two for now because we have a date with a Bushwacker later tonight.”

“If you can find condoms, you can find liquor.” I make myself comfortable in the chair, but soon realize her idea of the blanket and pillow is great. Even with the cushion, this outdoor balcony chair isn’t meant for watching movies.

“I am savvy like that. Can I borrow your phone?”

Standing up, I hand it over. “Oh, don’t forget to remove your credit card from the delivery app. Otherwise, sorry, not sorry if you get billed for random deliveries.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Be right back. Get us something good.” The heavy slider slinks open, the cool air a direct contrast to the humid air on the balcony, perhaps a metaphor for the crossroads of my life.

Juli’s taken the only blanket, so I settle for a few pillows, a hoodie, and a towel. It’s not like I need anything for warmth.

Back outside, Juli’s attention is lost in my phone, her brow wrinkled in concentration. “Find anything good?”

“Yep, though it’s going to be a little while. I say we queue it up, and when it gets here, we’ll pause for drinks and snacks.”

“I like the way you think.” She hands me back my phone, which I put down on the table by the laptop. Making my chair as comfortable as possible, I relax into it.

“Come closer.” The demand is subtle, but I obey anyway. Being closer to her isn’t any burden. When I’m in place, she smiles, mumbling, “Much better.”

While I agree wholeheartedly, my heart aches knowing that after tomorrow, “close” and Juli Langley won’t be a reality.

Forty minutes later, the alert sounds for our delivery. Juli hops out of her chair, pauses the movie, and ventures inside. A few minutes later, she pops her head out of the door. “I gotta make the popcorn, so it’ll be a few minutes.”

“‘Kay.”

The image of Zac Efron and Zendaya pauses on the screen. The part when they sing about being together behind closed doors. It’s oddly fitting, even if their situation hardly rivals ours. But there’s a lot of truth in it as well.

While Juli’s been at the resort, we’ve fit. Had the best time hanging out, laughing, enjoying each other’s company. Connected on every level. However, when she leaves tomorrow, the fantasy dies. Because that’s exactly what this is—a weeklong fantasy while she’s been on vacation. Our relationship has no roots in reality, and the sooner I accept it, the sooner I’ll be able to push this week out of my head.

Exactly like I had to do over a decade ago.

Let go of the one time I had Juliana Langley.

This repeat performance was better than I could have imagined if I had entertained thoughts of us being together again. And no doubt, if we find ourselves in a similar situation in the future, it would be as explosive. It’s easy to pretend with Juli.

“Why are you scowling?” Juli stands in front of my chair, a bowl of delicious popcorn in her hand.

Schooling my expression, I gaze up at her. And try not to fall deeper for the woman I’ve crushed on for the better part of my life. Swallowing, I attempt to dislodge the lump of emotion gathering in my throat, matching the weight of dread in my abdomen. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her shoulders slump as she sighs. “There weren’t any expectations on it, and yet I can’t seem to think the end is going to be easy.”

Am I a selfish bastard to be delighted she feels the same way?