Page 25 of Total Dreamboat

Hope

“Really nice people,” Gabe says as we walk to the meeting point for our ride back to the ship. “And it’s wild that Pear’s friends with Eliza.”

“Yeah,” I say dazedly, because I feel like my skull has been beaten with a sledgehammer. “Small world.”

“She misses you, you know,” he adds.

“Who?”

“Eliza.”

Doubtful. She’s on the long list of people I haven’t heard from since the breakup. I don’t say anything. My brain feels like static.

“Is something wrong?” Gabe asks. “You’re quiet.”

Part of me wants to say: “I’m traumatized because I just had lunch with the ex-boyfriend I have complicated feelings about and the sweet guy I slept with last night.”

Instead I say: “Tired from all the sun.”

I close my eyes on the trip back to avoid talking. Gabe takes the hint and lets me rest, striking up a conversation with a fit elderly couple about their previous surfing experiences and many grandchildren. It’s as though he’s trying to remind me how winning he can be.

I don’t want to be reminded. I don’t want to be back in that headspace.

And I feel terrible about Felix.

I say goodbye to Gabe as soon as we’re back on the ship. He touches my arm to stop me. My body has not forgotten how much it likes his touch. I instinctively turn to him.

“Hey,” he says. “I don’t want to pressure you. But it would be nice if you’d have coffee with Gran. You know how she adores you.”

I don’t remember Maeve “adoring” anyone—she’s more of a towering matriarch than a warm maternal figure—but we did always have a cordial rapport.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll text you.”

But I’m not sure I will. Given how wobbly I feel in his presence, it’s likely unwise.

“Thanks,” he says, his eyes lit up like I’ve just promised to marry him. An irony that is not lost on me.

I go up to my room, praying that Lauren won’t be there. I need to process all this before I hear her opinion. Actually, I already know what her opinion will be: feed Gabe to the sharks.

Part of me wants to.

Part of me is fucking enraged that he could be so friendly, affectionate, even proprietary after what he did to me.

But then there is the other part of me that thinks, thank God . Thank God he still cares for me. That I didn’t just imagine he loved me. That perhaps I’ve lingered with him the way he’s lingered with me.

I have, to be clear, no respect for this part of me. I wish this part of me could be cut out with a scalpel and evacuated in a hazmat truck.

But emotions are emotions. They’re just… there. Whether you welcome them or not.

And right alongside them are my feelings for Felix. The object of my gooey, previously uncomplicated vacation crush. The guy who still makes me feel fluttery even when he’s sitting next to the former love of my life, visibly trying not to glower.

I could tell he was upset, and I get it. I’m upset too.

I feel like I’m fucking with him against my will. That Gabe’s very presence—and my reaction to it—is a betrayal.

Okay, obviously I do need to talk to Lauren.

I pick up my phone to ask where she is, and see a missed FaceTime call from my mother. She’s the last person I could ever talk to about this, but given how depressed she’s been, I don’t like to keep her waiting when she reaches out. I go to the balcony to call her back.

“Hello, dear,” she says in greeting. She’s outside in the garden of the cottage. The sun is streaming against her auburn hair, making her glow. She looks beautiful. And maybe it’s just the light, but she looks less tired than usual. Peaceful.

“Oh, you’re at the cottage already,” I say. “I thought it was Dad’s week.”

“It is, but there are some decisions we need to make together, so I came up early. The weather is beautiful.”

It’s odd to think of them sharing a house, however briefly. I haven’t seen them in the same place in over a year. The sadness of the situation overtakes me, but my mom seems upbeat—rare these days—and I don’t want to bring down her mood.

“I wish I was there,” I say.

“No! You’re somewhere far more exotic. Tell me all about your adventure!”

It’s all I can do to paste on a smile.

“I’m having a surprisingly good time,” I say. Because until today, I have been.

She laughs. “Imagine that, a free Caribbean vacation being enjoyable.”

“You like anything free.” My mother is famously cheap. She buys all her clothes secondhand, reuses tea bags, and still clips actual paper coupons out of the local newspaper.

“So what have you been getting up to on this trip of yours?” she asks.

“Well, let’s see. I learned how to cook Antiguan food. I saw a shockingly good Elvis impersonator. And today I failed to learn to surf.”

I obviously don’t tell her about Gabe.

“Sounds eventful,” she says. “How’s our Lauren?”

“She’s dating everyone on the boat, of course.”

“Oh no. Are you lonely?”

I debate telling her about Felix. But I want to talk to someone about him.

“Well, actually…” I say, “I met a boy.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Oh?” she says neutrally.

“He’s British. A chef. Very nice. Here with his family. You’d like him.”

Her expression could be charitably called “unconvinced.”

“How long have you been on this boat?” she asks. “A week?”

“Five days.”

“That’s awfully quick.”

“I didn’t say I’m going to marry him, Mother. And didn’t you fall in love with Dad in a week?”

Their love story is legendary family lore. They met at the college bookstore the first day of their freshman year, bought overpriced textbooks for a statistics class they both ended up dropping, and never looked back.

“Best money I ever spent,” Dad always says.

Said.

Mom frowns, and I belatedly realize now is not the time to mention their romance. Clearly, my wits have deserted me.

“Yeah” is all she says. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” I assure her, even though, given the mess that I’m in, it’s far too late for that.

“Well,” Mom says, “we’re in the middle of cleaning out the gardening shed, so I’ll let you go. I just wanted to check in to see how you’re doing.”

This is typical. My mother can’t stand to be on the phone for longer than five minutes.

“Okay,” I say. I don’t comment on what occurs to me—that cleaning out a gardening shed seems like an odd reason for two people in the midst of a divorce to spend time together at an isolated country cottage.

“Love you,” she says.

“Love you too.”

As soon as she hangs up, I text Lauren.

Hope: Hey! When are you coming back. I have VERY BAD drama. Need advice!

There’s no response—she must still be on shore.

But there is a new text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, it’s me from Maeve’s phone.

Unknown: (Not sure if you unblocked me).

Unknown: *So* great seeing you.

Unknown: Would tomorrow work for a coffee?

The fact that this man has to text me through his grandmother’s phone hits me like an ice bath.

Welcome back to reality, Hope Lanover. A reality in which you are a strong woman who has moved the fuck on, and who deserves to enjoy her vacation with things that make her happy rather than miserable.

And what makes me happy is Felix.

I need to talk to him right now. I can’t stand the thought of him being confused or hurt. I text him.

Hope: Hey, what are you up to? Can we meet up?

Felix: Sorry, can’t—busy with the parents until after supper.

I notice he does not sign this text with an “x.”

Not that I deserve one.

Hope: Gotcha. See you later?

He doesn’t answer.

Well, I can’t blame him after what he saw. If I happened upon him having drinks with an ex several hours after sleeping with him, I’d be unhappy too.

I hope I haven’t ruined things.

I shower, read a little, and doze off. I must have been tired from the previous night’s sex fest and the morning’s emotional journey, because when I wake up three hours have passed. Lauren is in the bed next to mine editing photos on her laptop.

“Hi,” I croak.

She sits up and clacks her laptop shut.

“Finally you’re awake,” she says. “I am dying of suspense. What is your very bad drama?”

I don’t sugarcoat it.

“Gabe is here.”

Her jaw drops down comically, like she’s a cartoon.

“Gabe Newhouse ?”

“Yep.”

“How is that possible?”

“Apparently he’s treating his grandmother to celebrate her birthday.”

“That is psycho.”

“I know.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“I didn’t have a choice. He was on the surf expedition.”

“Did you push him off his board and drown him and now he’s dead and good riddance?”

“I kind of wish. He gave me a big heartfelt speech on how he regrets everything and wants a chance for ‘repair.’”

She stares at me. “Repair?”

I sigh. “Yeah. I know.”

“The only thing that needs repairing is his sense of goddamn decency and, like, his soul . Tell me you told him to fuck off.”

I collapse into my pillows and groan.

“Hopie!” Lauren says. “ Tell me you told him to fuck off.”

“I panicked. I didn’t really know how to feel about it. I was mad but then there was that fraction of me that was like… relieved. Or flattered. Or something? Ugh, Lauren, why am I like this?”

I’m expecting a lecture—I’m inviting a lecture—but she comes to sit next to me on my bed and strokes my hair. “I get it,” she says.

“You do?”

“I do. It’s natural to want people to feel badly for hurting you. But remember,” she says, tapping me on the shoulder for emphasis, “he was always good at saying the right thing. That’s why you fell for him. It’s how he treats you once he has you locked down that’s the problem.”

“I know, I know.” I sigh. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Setting your ass straight.”

“That’s not all of it though,” I say.

“Lord deliver us. What now?”

“Felix showed up just as Gabe was basically on the verge of trying to kiss me. And… we ended up having lunch with him and his sisters.”

“What? How? Why?”

“One of Felix’s sisters knows Gabe’s sister and they started chatting and—”

“Girl!” she cries. “Are you in a soap opera?”

“Feels like it. Especially after Gabe low-key announced to everyone that he’s my ex-boyfriend.”

She claps her hand over her mouth. “Oh dear God. What was Felix’s reaction?”

“He seemed… dismayed.”