by Marcelo, Tif
He nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you either.” He squeezed her hand, and it was like another hug. Geneva leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his torso. He kissed the top of her head, and she felt his entire body exhale.
The left-side bathroom door opened, and the squeak threw Geneva and Brandon apart. Geneva laced her hands together, still feeling the warmth of Brandon’s skin.
A man walked out. He looked familiar, but she could not place him.
“Mike?” Brandon asked.
The contractor. Geneva’s gaze dropped to the floor. She turned her face away. How much had he heard? Had he been in the bathroom all that time?
The right one is free.
“Hey, uh, nice to see you both. I’m actually just heading out.” Mike gave a limp salute and stepped out of the hallway, then out the front door.
“That was weird,” Brandon said.
The pieces of the puzzle locked in. Geneva covered her mouth with a hand, though it couldn’t contain the giggle rising from her chest.
“What’s so funny?” Brandon asked.
“I swear, Bran. Sometimes you can’t make this stuff up.”
Geneva watched the sun set as they drove north on 12 to Heart Resort; the earth was bathed with the last bit of light. She ended up in the back seat of Chris’s Suburban with Eden after their group had shuffled like a deck of cards. Chris and Brandon were both in the front seats and in some sort of heated discussion.
Next to her, Eden furiously thumbed on her notes app. “Sorry I’m being so rude. I have to get this out.” The screen lit her face, showing her full concentration.
“It’s okay. Been there, done that.” Geneva grinned. It was admirable, her ambition.
With a final push on the screen, Eden raised her face with a smile. “Chapter twenty-five is done.”
“Impressive.”
“Thank you.” She pressed her fingers back to stretch them. “This book is due in a month—which feels like far away, but it isn’t, especially with all the resort stuff going on.”
“What do you have to do for the reopening?”
“Just be a plus-one. Smile, be sweet. Act like the perfect couple.”
Her sarcastic tone sent up warning signals. Curiosity nagged at Geneva, but while she was close with Beatrice, she and Eden were still surface-level friends.
Everyone knew what happened to the curious.
“Speaking of acting like the perfect couple.” Eden’s eyes slid right to the guys up front. “I hear you two have a photo shoot tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I guess we do. It’s supposed to be pretty PG. Just us looking at the sunrise. No biggie.”
“It could be a biggie. It’s a perfect setup for a rom-com.”
“What setup?”
“A close-proximity, best-friend’s-younger-brother romance? Oooh, that’s good inspiration right there. Hold that thought.” Eden woke her phone, and she typed feverishly. “Older woman, younger man. It can be funny but angsty. There will be deep-seated issues that won’t make it easy for the couple to get together.”
“Oh, wow.” Geneva blinked back. Eden was sharp.
“Easy on who?” Chris peered at them through the rearview mirror.
Eden rolled her eyes. “No one.”
“Oh, I thought you were talking about yourself being easy on me. I can’t seem to do anything right.” His eyes flickered to the front as the car rumbled over the resort’s land bridge.
“Hmm, perhaps simply listening to the needs of others is a good first step in doing something right.”
An uncomfortable heat rose in the van, and as silence permeated the vehicle, with Eden looking straight ahead with a deadpan expression, and now with Chris’s eyes solely on the windshield, Geneva counted the seconds.
Something was up between the two lovebirds, and she didn’t want to be around to see it.
It wasn’t as if Geneva avoided these uncomfortable emotions. Scratch that—yes, she avoided them, but only because she couldn’t help fix them. Geneva only wanted to spend her headspace on things she could change, on factual, tangible items that could be revised. That had been the story of Geneva’s life.
With emotions—she only dealt with them to a degree, because at some point, problems recycled themselves and were hopeless to fix.
Much like with her and Brandon. Keeping it simple wouldn’t have worked at all; history had taught them otherwise. Four years ago, what was supposed to be a weekend in Annapolis after the wedding had turned into seven days, then twenty-one. She and Brandon had gone from eating out to eating in, from getting takeout to cooking at home, then from shopping for clothes to doing laundry together.
Turned out, playing house brought out feelings. It increased expectations. Soon, making love had no longer masked the conversations that they weren’t having. They couldn’t not talk about family. They couldn’t not talk about the future. Then what had been a fantasy had slowly peeled back like unsealed paint, into what was underneath: real life and responsibilities.
The SUV rocked as Chris parked it, and Geneva bade a quick goodbye and exited the vehicle. The humid air was a relief.
Only Brandon met her at the back of the truck.
“Are they coming?” she asked.
“I . . . don’t think so.” He ran a hand through his hair, then glanced behind him. “Let’s get out of here. I think they need more privacy beyond the SUV.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Can I take you home? I don’t see your golf cart here.”
Temptation pulled at Geneva. She was exhausted after a long day, and the scant half mile on the pedestrian shortcut to her house would be hell on her sandal-clad feet. The humidity was punishing despite the sunset.
But, she had too much in her head. Tomorrow would begin bright and early, and the ocean air would do her good so she could sleep on time tonight.
“No, I’m good. I’m going to walk.”
Brandon opened his mouth to say something, then, as if thinking twice, shut it. He nodded. He hooked an arm around her neck for a quick hug. “See you tomorrow, Harris.”
Geneva squeezed his body tight, and in her hug she hoped that all her complicated feelings were communicated. Despite her monologue in that restaurant hallway, her biggest fear was that if she didn’t watch it, that next trope and book Eden was typing out would be about them.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Day 6
Weather: cloudy, 80°F
Hurricane Oscar: tropical storm, southeast Florida
Brandon:
Rise and shine!
Geneva blinked awake when her phone buzzed, and squinted at the sun shining through her window. She patted her bed for her phone, and a frisson of excitement rode up her spine, as she knew full well who the text was from.
She bit against her cheek as she texted back.
Geneva:
No.
We’ve still got 20 minutes.
Brandon:
Eighteen, actually.
Geneva:
I’m warm in my bed.
Brandon:
I have coffee.
Geneva sat up.
Geneva:
Good coffee?
Brandon:
Yep.
Geneva:
Fine.
Brandon:
And I’ve got good news.
Geneva:
What is it?
Brandon:
You’re going to have to get here to find out.
Geneva kicked off her covers.
Geneva:
What are you wearing?
I want to match.
Brandon:
Jeans and a button down white shirt.
Bleary eyed, twelve minutes later, Geneva stumbled out of her beach house in one of her new caftans and climbed into her golf cart. Five minutes after that, she was on the northwest shore of Heart Resort and trudged toward Brandon, who clutched a cup of coffee in each hand, energy radi
ating off him. Tammy was farther down, toward the shore, and fiddled with her professional camera.
Upon seeing Geneva, Tammy raised her hand in an enthusiastic wave.
“How are you both so happy?” Geneva asked. She might be glad to be there, but her body rebelled at each step. She felt like she was moving in slow motion. God, she hoped she could smile for pictures.
“It’s called sleep.”
She grumbled. “I slept. Though not till about one in the morning.”
“Ah. I hit the sack by ten.” Brandon heaved a breath as if the air had additional life force. He handed her a cup.
Geneva didn’t even have the energy for that. She wrapped her hands around the cup, grasping onto the first threads of cheer.
She did, however, notice that the first button of Brandon’s shirt was unbuttoned, and she could see the upper part of his torso. Around his wrists were a couple of handmade beaded bracelets haphazardly tied with string, probably from his nieces. It was a combination that made her insides flutter.
“Why were you up?” he asked, startling her out of her imagination. “Did it take you that long to walk home?”
“No.” Last night, the walk that she’d hoped would tire her out had energized her. She’d ended up knocking off a few things on her to-do list. She grinned. “Did some coordinating with a client who happened to be a night owl too. My client after Heart Resort.”
“Right after?”
She nodded, her timeline materializing in her head. With it came the unending list of inherent tasks, along with a tinge of dread. She bit her lip, willing it away—she was just being grumpy, a side effect of being undercaffeinated. She sipped her coffee and sat with the heavenly, bitter taste on her tongue. With it, more words processed in her brain. “There’s about a week in between this project and the next one, but many of the decisions need to be made ahead of time. Hopefully there won’t be a truck fire like we had to deal with.”
“God, I hope not.” He gave her the side-eye. “Despite you still being in bed fifteen minutes ago, you clean up nice, Harris.”
“You don’t look half-bad yourself,” she said, pretending not to care. Inside, she thanked Beatrice for intuiting that she’d need something fresh in her wardrobe rotation. “Though you’re maybe a slight bit too chipper.”
“I’ve got something that’ll put a pep in your step.”
“Yeah?” She stood straighter.
“How do you feel about modern dinnerware and fresh linens for the restaurant? New exterior paint job and, depending on what you had in mind for the interior, new paint and light fixtures.”
“What?” Geneva woke, for real. Forget the coffee; this was like a jolt of IV caffeine. “How did you manage that? Chris barely agreed to Lainey coming.”
He shrugged. “We had a talk last night.”
“And he agreed, just like that?”
“I think he’s trying, you know?”
Geneva nodded, impressed at Brandon’s empathy. “Maybe it’s good that we agreed to the pictures, then? All of us meeting in between.”
“I’m still shocked you said yes to this. With the way you were with Tammy that first day—”
“Is it weird to say that this feels different?” Geneva squinted up at him. “This photo shoot is planned, and it doesn’t feel quite as intimidating. My dad took a ton of pictures of me, but I had warning. He asked before he snapped. And, I got to pick the photo for him to use for our albums or to send to people. It’s the candids, the unexpected, the posting, that I don’t like.”
“Ah, choice.” Brandon nodded.
“Yeah, I guess.” Geneva was reminded of the choice she would have to make soon, about Beachy. As she’d worked last night, she hadn’t been able to come up with an answer. Pros and cons didn’t seem to apply, because so much of this decision was about who she thought she would be a decade, two decades, three decades from today.
Tammy walked their way. “All right, you two. Ready? I already started to take photos. See?” She leaned her camera closer and flipped through images of them chatting as if they were sharing an intimate secret. “You both have such great chemistry—and so photogenic too.” Her face twisted in a wince. “I hope that I didn’t put you both in a spot by asking for couples photos. You just have an oomph. Those teaser pics on social media? They’ve been shared and liked because you look good together. Natural, you know?”
Hovering over the camera, Geneva raised her eyes to Brandon, who had a sad smile on his face.
Her heart twinged with remorse. Yes, Geneva definitely knew.
“You’re good at this, Tammy,” Brandon said, eyes flickering over to the other woman.
Tammy’s shoulders drooped. “Thank you. I appreciate that. PR is my position, but photography is my specialty. I’ve loved it since high school.” Tammy thumbed a few buttons on top of the camera. “Awesome . . . the sun is at the perfect spot. Let’s get a little bit closer to the water.”
They followed her toward where the grass turned to sand. “I’d like to take a few of you looking out into the water, with the pier in the background—you’ll have to wrap your arms around each other. Is that okay?”
Brandon looked upon Geneva to answer.
“Yep, just fine,” Geneva said.
Tammy’s face lit up. “Great! And then . . . can I put my hands on you both?”
They both nodded.
Tammy guided them by the elbows. “Please look at one another . . . yep, that’s it. Geneva, look up at him . . . raise a hand here. Yep, now lean your foreheads together. Great. So versions of this, and when I say to raise your heads, just step back, but still have your hands intertwined like this . . .”
If either the news about the restaurant or the coffee hadn’t woken Geneva up, the posing would. Brandon’s closeness, the touch of his skin against hers, his gaze, slightly shy. It all made her body hum.
Geneva was grateful for the warm wind, which she could blame for the uptick of her internal temperature.
“Got it?” Tammy asked. “You know what to do?”
“Mm-hmm,” Brandon said, with a slight tilt of his lips. “Do you know what to do?”
Geneva’s entire body lit on fire with his adorable expression, but she countered. Deflection, Geneva, deflect! “Look, I think that if there’s anyone here who can handle a few directions, it’s me.”
Brandon laughed.
Tammy ran back to where they had been standing. “All right, make that magic happen, you two.” She lifted the camera to her face.
Brandon’s eyebrow went up. “Magic. What do you think she means by that?”
It was an innocent question, but their history put that sentence in a different context. “Not in the ways you’re thinking, Puso.”
His eyes flashed.
“Heads together, you guys!” Tammy said. “Like you like each other.”
She and Brandon burst into a fit of giggles.
“If she only knew,” Brandon whispered.
Geneva cleared her throat against this truth.
As the seconds passed, Geneva wondered how they appeared from afar. It was unnerving, because her best side was her left side, and Tammy was shooting from her right side. Did she look all right?
Her thoughts trailed to her father, and sadness tugged inside of her. She really missed him. He had this talent of bringing out the best in people, and it showed in the photographs he took.
Doubt seeped in. At her decision to not make more of an effort to visit her parents. And now, with Tammy, should Geneva have worn more makeup? Maybe this caftan didn’t look good on her after all. “Tammy needs an assistant to give us encouragement or something. Is she even snapping pics? I don’t hear the click of the camera.”
“Hey.” Brandon let go of her hands and rested them on her waist. “Let it go.”
She settled, his words taking effect. She placed her hands on his hips, stepping into him so their torsos touched. “You’re right.”
He bent so their foreheads touched. “Yo
u okay?”
She nodded, heart returning to a steady beat. “I just want to do things right.”
The sides of his cheeks crinkled upward. “I know. That’s your thing.”
“My thing.”
“Yep. You see most things as opportunities, and you just go for it. It’s why you have your lists, your calendars, your rules. You don’t do anything halfway, and that is part of why you move on. But it’s also what makes you great, because you don’t falter, Geneva. You’re what makes the world turn.”
Geneva’s heart splintered, because she read his mixed emotions on his face.
She pressed against his chest to squeeze a smile out of him. Their decision not to take things further was the correct one, and they both had to remember that. “You are the ultimate encourager—officially. I’ve decided.”
He half laughed, and the sound was music to her ears. “That’s good, right?”
She looked up at him, pleased to see him grinning at her. “Brandon. It’s not people like me who make the world go; it’s people like you, who are the foundation.” Geneva tallied Brandon’s qualities, often overlooked. Brandon made up for many of the things she lacked, and she wanted to make sure that even if they weren’t going to be together, he knew how special he was. “You think of other people first. You make them laugh, make them stop and smell the roses. I think that sometimes I, and maybe other people, can take that for granted. You don’t ask for enough, to be thought of first, but I see you. You are better than good.”
Movement ensued on their left, and they both looked at Tammy, who was sidestepping and making motions with her arms.
“I think she wants us to step apart,” Geneva said, clearing her throat. Still, her heart ached at her outpour. She hadn’t expected to say all of that.
“Let’s do it.”
With fingers interlocked, they stepped back.
“I appreciate . . . you saying that, Gen.”
“I meant every word.” She looked into his eyes, at the vulnerability in them. “I don’t want you to get a big head over it.”
He laughed, glancing down for a beat.
It was endearing, sweet.