Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“With who?”
When I don’t answer, she laughs all the way to the door. “Don’t forget what we just discussed!”
I ignore my giddiness and nervous anticipation and get dressed as quickly as I can. Winnie purchased no shortage of swimsuits for her summer here, and I riffle through them, trying to decide which one she would want me to wear. When none of them jump out at me, I slip into a lavender two-piece with thin straps just because I love the color so much. I assume it’s going to be slightly more modest than the turquoise bikini, but once I have it on and I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, I can only laugh. Winnie was not playing around when she purchased her Ibiza wardrobe. Clearly she was going for all-out vixen, the sexier the better. I smile, thinking of how confident my sister was in her own skin. For her, everything held beauty. She never cared about the surgical scars on her chest; she never covered them up or shied away from her imperfections, and she infused that attitude in everyone around her. Be bold. Be confident. Wear the damn bikini.
I meet my gaze in the mirror, and for a terrible moment, I see Winnie’s green eyes. My gut clenches painfully. Sometimes, every now and then, the thin veil standing between daily life and upending grief will threaten to slip and fall away.
A sudden pang of sadness seizes me and I twist, twist, twist that antique ring around my finger. It’s all I can do not to slide down to the ground and drop my head into my hands. I force a steadying breath and try in vain to refocus myself in the present moment.
I still haven’t completely succeeded when I head down to the lobby of my apartment complex with my beach bag in tow. That knot in my gut still lingers, my emotions as reactive as live wires.
When I step out into the bright morning light, Cristiano is already waiting for me, leaning against the side of his car wearing navy swim trunks and a white T-shirt. A secretive smile is spread across his lips. If possible, today he’s somehow more obscenely good-looking than ever. My step falters for a moment as a terrible thought comes to mind: This is wrong—he should be waiting here for Winnie. If life were fair and everyone got exactly what they deserved, she would be the woman getting swept away by this man. I would be getting a postcard in the mail: Isabel, you are not going to believe my luck!
I’m glad for my sunglasses as I force myself to start walking again. Cristiano watches me approach, and I press up onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, trying to act normal.
He smells so nice I linger longer than I should, my fingers skimming his shoulders as I eventually pull away.
“Where to?” I ask tightly, already trying to slip around him and open my door.
“Espera. Wait,” he says, reaching out to cup my chin. I don’t realize I’m trembling until he turns my face back toward his. With his other hand, he lifts my sunglasses, pushing them up onto my hair, and he bends lower, face-to-face with me. It’s too close, too invasive. I can’t seem to put my mask up in time, so instead, I look down at the ground, trying to ignore the tightening in my throat as I bite down gently on the inside of my cheek.
I should have canceled. I should have realized today’s funk is worse than normal. I need time to process it before I can reconstruct my wall and go on living.
“Isabel?” he questions gently.
I shift my jaw back and forth, trying, trying, to quell these emotions. I don’t want to do this in front of him, in front of anyone.
I already feel the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes, the tingling in my nose. “Please don’t.”
It’s all I can say, and I feel bad for not explaining more. I wish I could find enough courage to explain that this has nothing to do with him. I feel ashamed of my emotions. God, this is the opposite of a carefree summer fling. I’m supposed to be bubbly and flirtatious, easy and happy. But I was never the fun one. Winnie was.
A tear slips down my cheek and I squeeze my eyes closed before any more can follow. Already I’m reaching for my sunglasses again, haphazardly rushing to settle them back on the bridge of my nose as I pull away from Cristiano.
“Where to?” I ask again, stressing the question.
He lets me get away with it this time. I climb into the front seat, where I see he’s brought me breakfast and coffee. I thought ahead to stash my water bottle and a few snacks in my bag, but the açaí bowl covered with berries and granola and drizzled in honey looks so much better. Hopefully soon the tension in my stomach will ease enough for me to eat a few bites.