Page 50 of That Birthday in Barbados
“So another me?”
“No,” I say, but I’m not sure it’s for the reasons she’s guessing. Casual isn’t what I feelaboutCatherine.
“She looked hurt,” Celeste says quietly. “She has feelings for you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I think so.”
We hold each other’s gaze, and I feel bad because I’m the one who’s changed things.
She sets her glass of wine on the counter, walks over and stands in front of me, less than an inch of air separating us. We stand that way for a string of moments, and I can feel her letting my body remember her. She leans in then and brushes my mouth with hers, her eyes closing and then opening, gauging my response.
“You say you don’t know what is going on with you where she is concerned. Why don’t you let me help you to figure this out?”
When I don’t turn away, she kisses me again, this time opening her mouth fully to mine. I feel my reluctance, but admit my own need to decide if anything has changed. Since the moment I set eyes on her, my head has been full of Catherine Camilleri. To a degree even I realize makes no sense.
I loop an arm around Celeste’s waist and reel her in.
Chapter Twenty-one
“One must be careful not to take refuge in any delusion.”
?James Baldwin
Catherine
IT’S BEEN A full day since I left Anders’ house, and I’m at loose ends.
In the twenty-four hours since then, I feel like I’ve crashed from a sugar high. I’ve been in the movie, indulging in Coke and Milk Duds in the dark, and now the movie’s over, and I’ve got to walk out into the too-lit lobby and acknowledge my sin.
Vacation without the undercurrent of sexual tension.
It’s not like I didn’t do it to myself.
Had I really thought there could ever be something physical between us?
The answer is yes. Somewhere, deep down, yes. Had started to yearn for it. Want it in the way of something you know is impossible but let take root inside of you, anyway.
Foolish and forty. That’s me.
What I know is that if I’m going to stay here for the rest of my vacation and not head back to Manhattan as the more sensible me would do, then I need to hit rewind and finish out the version of this escape I should have been doing all along.
Having spent the morning at the beach, I decide to go to the pool.
It’s a short walk across from the main part of the hotel. The pool connectsto the spa, the tile a beautiful deep blue, the water appealingly tempting. There’s a swim-up bar, and I see a few people seated on the bar stools ordering drinks.
The pool attendant welcomes me and leads me to a chair which he covers in a thick blue towel. I give him a tip, and he leaves me with a smile. It’s nearly four o’clock, the sun still hot in its now clear sky. I decide to take a swim and spend the next twenty minutes paddling from one end to the other, snagging a float and climbing on face down.
“Why, hello!”
I look up to see Madeline from the plane sitting on the step at the edge of the pool. She’s wearing a pretty green one-piece, and I have to admire how she has taken care of herself. She’s proof that muscles don’t have to atrophy, skin doesn’t have to wrinkle. “Hi, Madeline. You look so pretty.”
“Why, thank you, dear. I’m hoping this suit doesn’t scream ‘made for someone much younger’.”
I smile and shake my head. “It’s perfect. How is your trip so far?”
“Exactly as I had hoped it would be. And yours?”
