This irritates me. But I’m not going to take the bait.
“Anyway, I should get dressed,” I say. “We have to leave for surfing in twenty-five minutes.”
“Um, so about that.”
“Oh God. What now?”
“Colin asked me to go with him on a food tour, so I switched at the last minute.”
I should have known something was suspicious when she wasn’t wearing a designer rash guard.
“Lauren! Surfing was your idea in the first place! You said it would attract fit men with coastal homes.”
“And it will. Felix is probably going. He looks like the type. Did you ask him?”
“He’s zip-lining with his sisters.”
“Shit. Sorry. I would have told you I was changing plans but I didn’t want to interrupt your date.”
“You are a menace.”
“Just skip it if you don’t want to go.”
“No, the beach is supposed to be amazing. I’ll go alone.”
“Good. And promise you’ll come with me to karaoke tonight.”
I look her dead in the eyes. “Of course we’re going. Together. Donotbetray me on this.”
She puts her hand over her heart. “I swear.”
I put on my trusty nip-slip bathing suit, since if it caused a wardrobe malfunction during pool aerobics, how could it go wrong for surfing? I skip makeup, throw on shorts and a T-shirt, and head downstairs to meet the group.
A few people are already there, and most of them are close to my age. I sit down at a table with the attractive young couple I saw when we were checking in. As expected, they’re on their honeymoon. It turns out they are also from New York, so we’re comparing notes on our jobs and neighborhoods when I see it.
Seehim.
It’s Gabe.
Gabe Newhouse.
My ex-boyfriend.
Standing in the doorway to the room, gazing at me, a hand pressed over his heart.
I lurch to my feet involuntarily.
“Hope,” he says in a voice so loud every single person in the room turns and looks at him.
He bounds over to me and wraps me in a full body hug before I can react.
“I can’t believe this,” he says, squeezing me so tight I cough.
I push him off as firmly as I can without making a scene. “Stop,” I hiss.
He steps back, eyes shining. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m suffocating you. It’s just—my God, what are the odds?”
“What are youdoinghere?” I ask shakily. “Are you stalking me?”
