MAGNOLIA GRANTHAM

I remember the kiss.

I remember every single second of that kiss, from the way my fists balled and my body tensed to the way my toes curled and my resolve disintegrated. His tongue was delicious cinnamon, his hands in my hair declaring that I was his all over again. With his lips smashing mine, the past vaporized and the future became irrelevant. We were in that moment, he and I, and nothing else existed.

And then he spoke, and I came to my senses.

I knew he’d want to talk about it this morning, so I faked drunken amnesia and played that card to the best of my ability.

I lean against the door to my suite, my back pressing into the wood in case Xavier gets a wild hair and tries to follow me in here.

He wouldn’t though. He’s classy. Arrogant and smart-mouthed and opinionated, sure, but he would never barge in here.

My suitcase rests on the pillow-top bed. I run the zipper along the side and pull out some clothes for the day. I need a hot shower and a brisk walk to clear my head. Today I’ll hit up the farm stands and maybe grab some fresh vegetables and local wine for dinner tonight. If I can fill my day with tranquil, relaxing activities, maybe I won’t think so much about Xavier’s stark declarations and what they do and don’t mean to the part of me that aches every time I look at him.

He always had a way with words, finding precise combinations to string together to evoke powerful emotions on command. That’s why he’s in the top 1% and I’m not. I’m logical. A numbers girl. That’s where we always differed. I believed in the psychology of numbers and rationality. He believed in the psychology of emotional persuasion.

I know exactly how Xavier operates.

I just never thought I’d fall for it.

* * *

Eating alone has never bothered me. In fact, I enjoy a nice, quiet lunch from time to time because any restaurant in the city worth dining at is almost always pure chaos.

Sunny rays warm the top of my head at a little Vine Street sidewalk café just south of the Saturday morning farm stands. I’ve picked up some celery, an onion, two pounds of potatoes, a bottle of red wine, and a loaf of artisan bread. I’ll stop at a local fish market on my way home to grab some fresh clams for the small batch of chowder I’m making tonight.

I suppose I could be nice and grab enough for two. Xavier did make me breakfast.

But then he might take it as a peace offering, and I’m not sure if I’m there yet.

My total comes to eighteen dollars and forty-five well-spent cents. Nothing beats fresh crab cakes and locally-sourced mixed greens with house made vinaigrette. I pay my tab and head to the fish market before returning to the Van Cleef house. Per my calculations, I have approximately twenty-five minutes to decide what I’m going to say to Xavier when I see him again.

* * *

Maybe it’s the tranquil breezes or the rolling ocean waves or the blanket of blue sky, but something inside me feels softer. I’ll make dinner tonight and talk to Xavier. There’s no sense in spending the rest of this vacation at odds. We don’t need to be friends. We just need to arrive at a mutual understanding.

And I would never, ever, ever admit this to him.

Ever.

But part of me misses him so hard, and that same part of me can’t stop replaying that kiss.

But he’ll never know that. My heart is wrapped in armor, readied for battle at all times. And Xavier Fox is its number one enemy.

“Hello?” I call out, carrying my bags in and depositing them with one heave onto the kitchen island. “Xavier?”

Quietude fills the expansive house. Addison once referred to it as the “beach cottage.” I’m not sure a house this size qualifies as a cottage. Every window is closed. Not a single shoe resides on the rug near the door. There’s something lighter about this space. I trek toward the main level suite, gently pushing the door open.

The bed is made.

The dresser top is clear.

The bathroom is spotless.

He’s gone.

My chest hollows. I’m unexpectedly gutted. I didn’t expect it to be over that quickly. I expected more fight, more pull, more give, and more take. It’s not like him to throw in the towel and quietly disappear.

I trudge back to the kitchen, putting my things into the fridge and pantry and convincing myself that the emptiness happening inside me is nothing more than shock being mistaken for disappointment.

I got what I wanted.

He gave me exactly what I so stubbornly declared to want.

Now I can enjoy the second half of my weekend in peace and quiet and solitude, just as I intended.

On the drive back here, I’d caught myself accidentally smiling when I thought about him. I’m not sure what that means, and now I’m not sure I’ll get a chance to find out. And maybe it’s best that I never do.

It’s okay. I’m going to be okay. I’m right back where I was two days ago, before coming to Montauk. I’m right back where I should be.

The entry door to the garage opens and shuts with a soft click, and I freeze mid-step, caught between the island and the pantry. Tingles climb my arms as my heart lurches up into my throat.

Xavier stands before me, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his preppy, rust-colored shorts. With everything going on in the last twenty-four hours, I haven’t had a chance to appreciate how good he looks when he’s dressed down.

“Hi.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I thought you’d left.”

“I’m going back to the city.” His ocean-hued eyes study mine. “Went into town to book my sea plane. Came back to drop off the car and the keys.”

“Oh?” My voice is higher pitched than usual, as if that could hide my conflict about this entire thing.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” He delivers his apology with a hint of grit in his tone. I’m not sure if he’s angry at me . . . or himself. “And I’m sorry we’re not able to be friends.”

My chest squeezes. I place my food on an empty shelf and pace back to the island to grab some cold items to stick in the fridge. I need to stay busy. If my body is busy, it’ll keep my mind from prompting me to do or say something foolish, like blurting out, “You should stay!”

My heels dig into the wood floor along with my pride. I scolded him for kissing me earlier. I have no place asking him to stick around. I wouldn’t want to stick around either.

A horn honks outside, and I step past him to see the bright yellow indication of a taxi pulled up to the circle drive out front.

“Your ride is here,” I say, returning to shut the fridge door.

He hasn’t moved. I can’t stop moving.

We’re different, he and I.

Too different.

We don’t belong together. Maybe we never did.

“We were pretty great.” His full lips pull into a half-smirk, his eyes glazed.

My stomach hardens. There’s a tightness in the back of my throat I can’t swallow away. Every part of me knows this is goodbye.

“Xavier.” I shake my head. “Don’t.”

Don’t make this harder than it is.

“Bye, Magnolia.”

He doesn’t call me Mags. He doesn’t give me a hug or a wave or a dimpled smile. Not that I deserve any of those things. I just wish I’d have appreciated them more when I had the chance.

“Bye, Xavier.”