Page 43 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Mari

Now

After breakfast, the group heads out to the beach and secures one of the first-come, first-serve cabanas that sit on a low dock directly above the sparkling waters of the Caribbean.

I let my legs hang off the planks, dipping my toes and enjoying the shade.

A school of herring zigzagging through the water snags my attention, but it’s gone so quickly I wonder if it was a mirage.

Brittany sits beside Sasha, wearing a practical navy suit with a square neckline, her nose inches away from her e-reader.

She lifts her sunglasses and watches Chloe and Javi swim around.

Chloe’s attempting to dunk Javi, but he’s evading her efforts, ducking underneath the water whenever she gets close enough to tackle him.

“Those two seem to be getting along,” Brittany observes.

“Indeed,” Sasha says.

I shrug and pretend I haven’t noticed. “Chloe gets along with everyone.”

“Not me,” Sasha singsongs.

Chloe screams in delight when Javi grabs her ankles, and then she kicks at him and swims away.

“Hey, Campos,” Javi says as he treads water. “Coming in?”

“Not yet,” I yell back, refusing to meet his gaze.

Instead of joining them, I lift my face to the sun and close my eyes. Doing so has the desirable effect of shutting out the image of Javi submerged in the sea, water droplets clinging to his sharp jaw and his broad, sun-bronzed shoulders.

Gah. Now would be a perfect time to mentally run through the list of tasks I need to complete before the wedding. But I can’t do that with all this fucking noise .

Oh God, I’m being a brat. On a vacation in my honor, no less. How petty am I to begrudge my friends having a little fun?

“Are you drafting a brief in your head?” Javi asks.

I stick my tongue out at him. “No.”

“What are you doing, then?”

“Running through my to-do lists.”

“Not the point of this trip, Mari. Come in here so I can show you how to have fun.”

“Damn,” Sasha purrs. “You don’t have to make it sound so dirty.”

“Mind out the gutter, Sasha.” Javi twirls around, hiding his face, and then he floats on his back and closes his eyes.

I crane my neck to look at Sasha and wrinkle my nose at her when she finally spares a glance in my direction.

She’s zero percent intimidated and simply raises a brow at me.

Brittany looks between us, her eyes narrowing as if she’s trying to piece a puzzle together.

That’s not even the annoying part. No, the annoying part is Javi’s suggestion that I don’t know how to have fun.

I most certainly do—in theory. In actuality, I never give myself time to have fun anymore.

Every hour of every day is accounted for, including the ones I set aside for sleep.

Alex and I aren’t even going on a honeymoon; we agreed it would be nearly impossible to sync our schedules and we’re both too busy at work to take any more time off.

We’re alike in this sense—both driven, both goal-oriented, both practical.

Alex doesn’t complain when I stay at the office until midnight; instead, he uses it as an opportunity to do the same, and then we return to either my place or his afterward.

There’s another way , a voice inside me implores.

But I ignore it. A structured life isn’t an inferior life; it’s composed, tranquil, comforting.

Being impulsive can be freeing, but it has its drawbacks too.

Still, I haven’t taken a vacation in forever, and this little sojourn is refilling a well I hadn’t noticed was empty.

I swing my legs onto the dock and jump to my feet.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I back up and take a running leap into the waves below.

I plunge into the water and hover submerged for a moment before coming up to the surface.

It’s exhilarating. My curls will pay for my spontaneity, but I don’t care.

There’s something about being suspended in the ocean that humbles you; it reminds you that life here is more vivid and wondrous than anything you’ve got going on in your supposedly significant existence.

While I’m holed up in my office accumulating billable hours, this incredibly complex ecosystem is growing, rebuilding, evolving .

When I open my eyes, Chloe’s pulling herself out of the water, and Javi’s a foot away, a lazy smile lifting his lips at the corners. “There she is,” he says with a wink.

I huff. “Going to belittle my workaholic tendencies?”

His brows snap together. “Damn, Mari, that wasn’t what I was doing. This is your bachelorette celebration. The run-up to your wedding. Whatever.” He licks his lips, and I look away. “I just thought the point was to relax and have a little fun.”

When did that become Javi’s line? It used to be mine.

“I know, I know,” I say, throwing my head back. “I’m sorry. I’m projecting.”

“I did notice your nipples are more prominent than usual in that swimsuit,” Sasha yells from her spot in the cabana.

Despite the distance between us, I try to splash her while everyone else laughs.

“You’re such a menace,” I tell her.

She grimaces at the few water droplets that land on her towel and stares at me pointedly. “If you two lower your voices over there, I won’t be able to hear your conversation.”

Taking the hint, Javi and I drift farther from the dock.

“She has no filter,” Javi says.

I groan. “Tell me about it.”

“So, listen, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. Good news, actually.”

“What is it?” I ask, my heart pounding in anticipation. I’m already happy for him, and I don’t even know what “it” is.

“I officially moved out of my old apartment. Got my own place in New York. My new lease starts when I get return.”

“That’s amazing. You’re making moves. Ditching the roommates and finishing the musical.”

“I landed that part-time bartending job too,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Can’t totally live off Jeremy while I’m here.”

“Sounds like you’re zigging, not zagging.”

He gives me a lopsided smile. “Yeah.”

“Hey, listen, about Jeremy’s place: Can I drop by to see it one day? I’m so curious about the condos in Brentwood.”

“Of course. And believe me, it’s spectacular.”

“I bet. Maybe we could hang out when you’re not working on your masterpiece.”

“Sure, although I assume you’ll be too busy being a newlywed, and since I’m trying to make the most of the time I have, I’ll be holed up at Jeremy’s whenever I’m not bartending.”

“Being a workaholic like me.”

“No one can be a workaholic like you.”

I splash him in the face—mostly because he’s such a gorgeous jerk.

He sputters on a laugh, then reaches out to grab me, but I quickly swim away, his hands grazing my heels. I turn back and grin at him. This feels right. Feels like us. We’re good friends, and that’s perfectly fine. And absolutely enough.

***

Oh shit. Javi’s never going to let me hear the end of it.

Back at the suite, I continue to scan the contents of Alex’s email to our DJ, searching for the punch line. Sadly, there is none. Is he being serious right now?

Attached to the email is a list of songs, the very songs Javi and I put on the do-not-play list. But it gets worse, because I can only assume that Javi added several more, including the ultimate breakup song, “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus, and “Te Boté,” the lyrics of which are the very definition of petty.

Since the rest of the group is napping before dinner, no one’s here to witness my mini meltdown. I’m muttering to myself as I call Alex.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, princesa. I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”

“Hi, Alex. Everything okay on your end?”

“Yeah, yeah, working as usual. What about you?”

“Well, I just read your email to the DJ, and I’m confused.”

There’s a rustling of papers, and then I hear the clickety-clack of his keyboard.

“All right,” he says, “I have it in front of me. What’s unclear about it?”

I scoff. “Did you even look at the list?”

“Of course I did. I added a few too.”

“And nothing about the list struck you as odd?”

“Not really, no,” he says. “Should it have?”

This is the moment Javi appears at the threshold of the room I’m sharing with Chloe. Of course.

I wave him off and scoot to the other side of the bed, facing away from him. “Javi sent you a list of songs I absolutely do not want played at our wedding reception.”

“And that’s what I sent to the DJ.”

“Exactly.”

Alex is quiet for a long moment. Finally, he says, “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

I hold back a laugh. “He sent it as a joke. To see if you’d be a good sport about it.”

“I failed, huh?”

I blow out a breath. “It’s fine. I’m stressed. You’re stressed. There’s a lot of stuff going on. But please fix it. Maybe explain that was the do-not-play list, and the list of preferred songs is still to come.”

“Sure, sure,” he says amiably. “I’ll take care of it as soon as we get off the phone.”

And this is why we get along so well. He’s so…agreeable. Hardly anything gets him bent out of shape. He’s calm. Collected. Though Javi would definitely say he’s uncool. But whatever. Javi doesn’t know Alex like I do.

“Okay, great,” I say, rising from the bed. When I turn around, Javi’s standing at the door silently dancing the Macarena. I snort, then spin around. “Alex, we’re heading to dinner, so I’m going to jump off.”

“No problem. I’ll pick you up at the airport tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sounds good. Take care.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

I toss the phone on the bed and fall back onto the mattress.

Javi knocks on the doorjamb.

“What?” I growl.

“I hope, for everyone’s sake, the kids get your sense of humor.”

I grab a pillow, ready to toss it at him, but he’s gone before I can lob it.

***

“Last call for any contenders,” the resort emcee says, holding his mic by the cord and taking a whirl around the tables of guests. “Winner gets an amazing prize!”

“Go on,” Chloe urges Sasha.

“No, you go on,” Sasha replies with a flick of her hand.