Page 132 of Love, Rekindled

Laughing, I look through the playlist on my phone and pull up some Soca to dance to. Within ten minutes, the four of us are lined up on deck in our bathing suits in various states of wine.

“It’s not twerking,” I tell them. “So put that out of your mind. And I don’t wanna see no hula hoops.”

I bend my knees a little, roll my hips to demonstrate, and immediately feel good. It’s like serotonin to my system, the mellifluous motion of my limbs, my torso and hips, and the beat that pounds through my blood.

Lotus actuallyisdecent. She jokingly claims she learned from watching Rihanna.

At least, I think she’s joking.

Yari says she’s Dominican and can dance to any beat under the sun. Also, decent.

That Billie, though.

If there’s a stage that is pre-beginner, that’s Billie.

But she’s trying, and we’re laughing, the spray from the sea kissing our faces and the sun warming our bare skin.

“Now you pelting waist, gyal,” I shout over the music, nearly losing the flow because I’m laughing so hard at Billietrying.

My hips are still swimming in the balmy air, the delicate body chain draped over my neck and around my stomach glinting in the sun, when two large hands bracket my waist from behind. I look up to see Naz towering over me, an indulgent smile shaping his lips.

“You gonna teach me?”

The thought of this huge man—six feet, seven inches of athletic grace, but dancing awkwardness—bubbles laughter out of me.

“Them hips weren’t made for wining,” I tell him, turning into his hug and tipping up to kiss his chin. “How was volleyball?”

“Intense. You’d think the ballers would be the most competitive, but Jared’s a savage.”

“I can actually see that, but then, you hear him FaceTiming with Angela every night, reading to her in Spanish…major heart melt.”

“True. One of his clients, a soccer player, owns a villa in Positano. We’ll stay there for a couple of days when we dock for Kenan’s birthday party.”

At the mention of Kenan’s party, my smile dims. After the party, we fly home, and I’ll continue with Naz and hide it…or continue and tell Cliff…or not continue at all. Each of those options holds a promise of some heartache.

“You okay?” Naz frowns and searches my face, my eyes.

I don’t want the cloud that’s hanging over me hanging overus, over the time we have left, so I set the worry aside.

“Yeah.” I slip my hands around his waist and smile up at him. “I’m fine.”

“Did I miss the lesson?” Banner asks, sidling up beside us. “The wine sesh?”

“You did.” I laugh. “But I can give you a private lesson later.”

“Awesome,” she says, her eyes alight with excitement. “Maybe at the villa. We’ll be docking soon, so pack a bag!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

~NAZ~

“Ready?”I ask, nodding to Takira’s overnight bag on the floor. “That’s all you got?”

“It’s only two nights.” She lifts the Louis Vuitton weekender. “I’ve learned to be pretty streamlined when I travel, even if it’s just ashore.”

“Let me get it,” I say, taking the bag from her. A buzzing sound makes me frown. “What’s that?”

“What’s what, babe?” she asks, walking to the bathroom. “I was about to leave my makeup bag. Now that would be tragic. I promised to do Billie’s makeup for the party.”

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