Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“For Christmas?”
“And Easter, and Thanksgiving, and fucking Flag Day.”
“What’d you just call me?”
Nick and I both cracked up, the warmth of the moment flowing over me, cementing the feelings I had for this spectacular man at my side.
“I feel the same exact way,” I said, my heart unlocking and its contents spilling out. “I really did think I was set for a mediocre life. I thought I would be with Mason forever, living in our cramped one-bedroom apartment, him never cleaning or cooking or helping in any kind of way. I was totally okay with settling for a jobless hamster, basically. And not even a cute hamster. He’s one of those hamsters with the draggy butts. And I was ready to call it a day and spend the rest of my life with him. Then he broke things off, and I really thought I was meant for nothing or nobody special. I dreaded this cruise, even though it meant reuniting with all my friends. I wasn’t even excited for Christmas, and I freaking loved Christmas.” Something in the distance jumped out of the water, too quick to discern what it was. A small splash immediately followed. “You know, I had even thought of canceling? I was literally seconds from texting the group and saying that I had gotten in a bad car wreck and couldn’t make it. On the way there, I was about to do it. Instead, I sucked it up and showed up. And then I met you.” My grin was so wide it hurt my cheeks. “My real-life Prince Charming… and then I asked you to be my fake boyfriend, and you said no.”
“Sorry about that,” Nick said, kissing me with a grin on his face, too. “But isn’t real boyfriends so much better?”
“It is, it is. I wouldn’t change how things went down, not one part of it.”
“Good. Neither would I.”
I leaned and rested my head on Nick’s shoulder. The sun was halfway gone now, throwing its rays of last light across the serene waters. The sounds of the party behind us seemed to dim, taken over by the music of our beating hearts, synced together in spectacular fashion.
We stayed like that, watching as the sun disappeared, connected to each other in a way that felt unbreakable.
“We should get back to the table,” I said, straightening up, stretching my neck, cracking my knuckles. I wiggled my toes as another wave gently crawled up the beach, foaming around the heel of my foot.
“Vamos,” Nick said. I had to get him to speak Spanish more often around me, because even just one word flooded my basement.
We stood up, both of us stretching and wiping the sand off our butts. Tiki torches had been turned on, their tall flames illuminating the party. My friends still sat at the same table, an assortment of empty glasses sitting next to their refilled glasses, Ace waving me over as he spotted us walking back.
I looked past the table, seeing Luna standing by one of the tiki torches, wearing her usual black slacks and billowy shirt. I didn’t think much of it until I took a closer look at the two people she was talking to.
A woman, who had the same straight, jet-black hair as Luna, and a man, whose bald head caught the flickering light of the torch, his face fully visible and not covered by any shadows. He had a round face with a birthmark across his hand, a birthmark that had been missing from the man I talked to at the market.
“Hey, Nick, who’s Luna talking to right now? Over by that tiki torch.”
Nick looked, answering instantly. “Those are her parents. Her mom and stepdad.”
“Holy fuck,” I said, and walked right past my table of friends. Nick followed right on my heels.
“What? What happened?”
“Her stepdad. That’s the man I saw during the ugly sweater party, the one I chased after. Luna’s stepdad was the one who took our photos. And that’s why she got that accidental text. He must have been talking to her right before he tried to sell our photos and sent them to her instead of his magazine connection.”
“Hijo de puta.”
I nodded, feeling my adrenaline rush as we got closer. “Yeah, exactly.”
19 Nicholas Silva
Luna looked our way, her head cocked to the side and her eyebrows meeting at the center of her forehead. She looked to me, then to Shy, then to her parents.
“Hi, Luna,” Shy said, waving before turning to her stepfather. He was a tall man with a permanent scowl on his face. He had married Luna’s mother about five years ago. I remember meeting him one time at the palace and never feeling very good vibes from him, but it certainly wasn’t my place to comment on Luna’s family matters.
“Nick, what’s going on?” Luna asked.