Page 103 of Rum Sips and Salty Lips

“Okay, I’m declaring girls’ night rules,” Sienna says. “No talking about men!”

“Men, or exes?” I ask. “Because you do have exes who are women.”

“Men. The patriarchy is the problem, not the dating.”

We blast Ashley Ferris and sing our hearts out to every one of her breakup songs.

“No one writes about love the ways she does,” Autumn says, the superfan in the room.

I only hide in the bathroom once to get myself together. I want to explode and tell them everything about Orion. But I can’t, even though every word, every chorus feels like a knife.

I bundle everything up and push it down.

forty

ORION

When I offered to host a guys’night, I didn’t think I’d be nursing my own heartache. I ordered pizza, since none of us felt like cooking. Alex is quiet about his feelings. I don’t think he was serious about Kim. He only brought her around on a few occasions. Beckett is another question. There were days I wondered if they got along. But they had to—they’d been friends their entire lives.

Christian doesn’t offer much, even when asked about the secrets to a happy marriage. He gives an answer I’m sure is rehearsed about friendship and trust and honesty.

“The thing about Beckett is…” Alex starts after a few drinks.

Christian, Alex, and I sit on my pool deck with the sun setting over the water behind us. If nothing else, at least I’ll always drink well with these two. But the rum I should enjoy—and always have in the past—tastes wrong on my tongue.

They also don’t question my piss-poor mood. We’re not trying to make Alex feel better. We’re letting him sit with whatever he needs to.

“We were only friends because our parents wanted it,” he says. “There are two institutions on this island: Paradise and Coastline. No offense to Wendell Beach Rum Works. It was expected our two families did everything together.”

“Things are changing,” Christian says. “The distillery is expanding. Carina is a force to be reckoned with. No one in town will respect Beckett after this. The resort will be fine, but he won’t be the face of it.”

I don’t want to think about Carina. I’ve run through our conversation a thousand times in the last twenty-four hours. I don’t know what I could have done differently. She had her eyes set on what she wanted and there was nothing I could do about it.

She didn’t believe half of what she was saying. But I don’t know how to convince her I know my mind enough to stay.

She didn’t even react when I said I loved her. So I don’t know how to fix this.

I did get to meet the Foleys out of this. They are the nicest people I’ve ever met—how they produced Beckett, I’ll never know. They offered me an exclusive contract for the resort. We’re creating a shuttle service. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

“Does it always have to be Ashley fucking Ferris?” Christian groans as he slides down in his chair.

We can hear the music from next door. I don’t know if she’s baiting me. I wish she cared enough to bait me.

“She’s a great singer and she’s fucking hot. You don’t like her because Autumn and Bristol are mad about the tickets,” Alex says.

“Her music is fine. I just don’t care about her love life. Every time I turn on the TV it’s some new story. It’s everywhere,” Christian says with more emotion than I expect. He catches himself and adds calmly, “The ticket thing worked out.”

“How?” Alex asks.

“I bought four tickets to her show in New York. I’m paying for Autumn and Bristol to take two friends for a weekend trip.”

“But you’re not going?” I clarify.

“No. The days don’t work for me. I’m committed to a distilling conference with a friend.”

I’m white-knuckling my way through the night. I hate the silence and I hate the secrets. I want to be able to express my frustration at the way she ended things. But instead, she’s forcing me to keep quiet.

Carina gets a cathartic moment with her friends singing loudly and probably beautifully. I’m so fucking grateful she has that outlet, but she won’t tell them she’s hurting. Especially if she won’t admit it to herself.

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