Page 42 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Javi

Now

It wasn’t enough. Which is why I’m spending the weekend celebrating Mari’s upcoming marriage to someone else.

And although waking up in a Belizean paradise is surreal, my first thought isn’t about the crystal-clear waters I can see from my room’s balcony.

No, my first thought is Mari. Last night’s game upset her, and I can’t help thinking that my careless answer is the main reason her mood plummeted.

I tried to speak with her about it, but she came into the suite she’s sharing with Chloe and me and went straight to sleep.

I sit up in bed, stretch, and pad to the bathroom. After a quick piss, I flick the light off and bump into Mari. Literally.

“Oh!” she says, quickly tugging her robe closed. “Sorry, I’m just going to…” She points at the bathroom door, a weak smile plastered on her sleep-lined face, then slides past me and shuts herself inside.

Should I wait? Give her space? Why am I so indecisive when it comes to her?

I loiter in the living area, rearranging the few personal items we scattered yesterday. After folding Mari’s sweater, I bring it up to my nose and inhale the traces of her scent, which is how Mari finds me when she emerges from the bathroom.

She meets my gaze, then glances at her sweater in my hands. “You’re such a weirdo.”

I laugh nervously and lay the sweater on the couch’s arm. “Was just checking to see if it smelled like smoke or food or…”

“Sure,” she says, smiling.

We’re okay. That smile tells me so. But is she okay?

“Making coffee?” she asks, peeking around me.

I swivel to face the counter. “Not yet, but I can do it now.”

“Please,” she says, shivering. “I can’t think straight without it.”

As I’m rinsing the pot in the sink, I say, “You disappeared on us last night.”

She settles onto one of the counter stools. “I went for a walk on the beach, and then Sasha joined me. And well, you know how Sash can be, so we ended up playing Spades with some of the bar staff. Benito makes a mean rum punch, by the way.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What did you guys do?”

“Brittany escaped to the room. Chloe and I sat by the pool for a bit, then came back here.”

“Hmm” is all she says in response.

I fiddle with the coffeepot and get the drip going, and then I turn to her. “Look, I just wanted to clear the air. About what I said last night during the game. I was just speaking the truth, but I didn’t think about how uncomfortable that would be for you, and I should have. I’m sorry.”

She waves off my apology. “It’s all good. Really. I was just thrown off. And I’m stressed. I’m getting married in less than a month.”

My heart does a double thump in my chest. “Second thoughts?”

“Not at all. I’m just a perfectionist, as you know. My mind can’t stop thinking about the thousand and one things I need to do before the big day. I mean, we haven’t even put together a list of songs for the DJ, although Alex claims he’ll take care of it.”

I hand her a cup of coffee with cream and three sugars—just like she used to like it.

“Thanks,” she says, before taking a sip. She licks her lips, then hums her appreciation, and I do my best to pretend that none of that affects me in any way.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Well, putting together a list is easy. How many songs do you need?”

“DJ says twenty-five to thirty. She just wants a sense of the vibe we’re going for.”

“Might be better to start with the songs you absolutely do not want to be played and go from there.”

“Ooh, that’s a good point,” she says, grinning.

“Hang on.” I jog back to the bedroom and grab my phone. “I’ll type the songs in my notes app.”

“We don’t have to do this,” she says on a laugh.

“Why not? I’m your man of honor. Shouldn’t I help with something?”

She rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “All right, fine.”

We move to the couch, taking our coffees with us, and face each other.

“Okay, number one song you don’t want played at your wedding. Go.”

Nursing her mug, Mari answers without hesitation. “?‘Macarena.’?”

“What? I’ve been practicing the dance ever since you told me you were getting married.”

“Absolutely not,” she says, her nose in the air.

“Okay, okay,” I say as I start the list on my phone. “What else?”

“?‘Baby Got Back,’?” she says, setting her coffee down.

“But think of all the Beckys!”

“There is not a single Becky on my guest list,” she says, trying but failing to keep a straight face.

“Think of Chloe, then. She’s definitely a ‘Baby Got Back’ kind of girl. Shit, she probably knows all the lyrics.”

She snorts. “Absolutely not. ‘Despacito’ can go also.”

I drop my phone onto the seat cushion and slap a hand against my forehead. “Now you’ve gone too far.”

“Actually, that one can stay. Luis Fonsi could sing the phone book and sound good.”

“What about ‘WAP’?”

“Good Lord, no. My father would expire on the spot.”

“Hmm, let’s keep it, then.”

Mari barks out a laugh and shoves me, but I grab her hand and hold it to my chest. She immediately draws in a long breath. Her gaze slowly meets mine, and her mouth opens a tiny fraction. Enough for me to know she’s as affected by our closeness as I am.

“Oh God, I’m hungry,” she blurts. Her eyes widen, and then she jumps up. “For food. We should get dressed!”

“Sure,” I say, trying to remember what we were doing seconds ago. “But wait, the list.” I chuckle. “I’m going to send it to Alex. See if he can take a joke.”

“He can take a joke,” she says, pouting as if she’s offended on his behalf.

“We’ll see about that,” I say. “I’m going to add a few more too.”

“Whatever,” she says, striding away. “See you at breakfast.”

When she’s gone, I shoot Alex a quick text: Mari told me about the list for the DJ. This should do the trick. He responds within seconds: Thanks. I’ll take a look when I’m not driving. Having fun?

I don’t know how to answer that. Am I having fun spending time with her? Always. Am I having fun celebrating Mari’s impending marriage to him? No. Every second that brings me closer to that fateful day is a second I regret. But I hit the thumbs-up option anyway and call it a day.