Page 117 of The Oscar Escape
His heart ached to fall back in time and relive those precious days before everything went to shit.
“A little,” he lied, then peered at the ring on his finger. He couldn’t take it off.
Ivy sank into the seat and clutched the lobster to her chest. “I wish Aria could have stayed for the festival. It was so fun, and there were so many people.”
He nodded to the girl. He’d been doing a lot of nodding these last five days. But Ivy was right. Despite the early morning paparazzi frenzy, the festival had gone off without a hitch. Aria’s publicized exit had lured the faux press off the island. It had made him nauseous to watch them crowd around her like they were a pack of ravenous wolves, and she was a piece of meat.
But that was what she’d wanted.
She’d made her choice.
He thought of the sign inside the Sweet Escape Inn welcoming drifters and dreamers. He hadn’t realized those words could seal their fate. Granted, it hadn’t helped that he’d manipulated her. Could he have texted Inez at any time and told her to cancel the job? Yeah, but he didn’t. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Should he have called in a kidnapping threat? No, of course not. But in the delirium and sleepless nights of following her tour, amid the paparazzi vultures and the media frenzy pumping out hit piece after hit piece on her, he’d bought a burner phone and called in the threat. At the time, it seemed reasonable—even benevolent. He’d gone in with the best intentions to save the woman he loved. Still, the end didn’t justify the means. He’d lost her and was left with the one thing that was never far away. His pain. His guilt. His cycle, as Aria called it.
“Did you let Aria know that you’ve got her ring?”
Oscar stilled with the bit of silver and gold pressed between his fingers. He hadn’t realized he’d pulled out his chain. “She knows I have it. I’m keeping it for her so it doesn’t get lost. She’s busy getting ready for her concert and has several outfit changes.”
More lies.
“I bet Aria would have liked to have driven back with us to Denver. Remember that donut shop in Kentucky, Ozzy Bear? The one that had a donut the size of a pizza?”
“Yep.”
“And how we had ice cream for dinner in Kansas?”
“Triple scoops,” he replied, mustering a grin. If there was a bright spot amid the anguish, it was spending time with his precocious chatterbox of a little sister.
He and Ivy had left Havenmatch Island the day after the festival on his birthday. He’d told Ivy that an issue with Aria’s tour had come up, and she had to get back to Denver. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He hadn’t spoken with Aria to confirm it. She wasn’t answering his texts or calls. But he knew she’d throw herself into work.
The last thing he thought he’d be doing on his birthday was wishing he could crawl into a hole and wallow in his pain. But Ivy’s presence had been a godsend. It forced him to put on a brave face and engage with the world. Three days straight on the road with Ivy had been a welcomed distraction, with one exception. Each night before Ivy fell asleep, she’d ask to call Aria, and he’d lie again and tell herhis wifewas too tired to talk.
Lies, lies, lies. He couldn’t seem to escape them.
And then there were Aria’s last words to him.
It’s over. We’re done.
They echoed in his mind.
He glanced at his silver ring—a gift from the sea gods, blessing their union. No, it was just a ring. If anything, it was a curse, not a blessing. He’d have to take it off. He’d have to tell his family and friends the truth. But he couldn’t—not yet.
And from what he could tell, Aria and Dom hadn’t mentioned the fallout either.
These last five days, he’d existed in a hazy holding pattern. Did he know what his future held—besides that he wouldn’t be documenting Justin’s boy band tour? No, he didn’t have a clue. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t know a goddamned thing about how to win Aria back or how to go on with a gaping hole in his heart. Perhaps she’d nailed it when she’d accused him of finding comfort in his guilt and pain. At least it was predictable.
“Your driveway is coming up,” Ivy chimed.
He saw the familiar bend in the road and inhaled the earthy scent of autumn in the crisp October air. His thoughts turned to his mom. He’d give anything to ask for her advice. He could’ve talked to his dad and Charlotte or sought Sebastian and Phoebe’s help, but he’d held back. Telling them what had happened would make it real, and that was a permanency his mind couldn’t comprehend.
He spied a smattering of evergreens, then peered at his old mailbox. He could almost see himself walking hand in hand with his mother down the gravel road. He squeezed the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I make this right?”
Ivy tapped his shoulder. “Who are you talking to, Ozzy Bear?”
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’m just thinking.”
“About your real smile?”
“What about my real smile?”
