Chapter 84 An unwanted guest: going on a vacation
Lila stepped off the resort shuttle into a wall of humid, salt-laced heat that instantly curled the ends of her hair.
The late afternoon sun blazed over the turquoise water of Playa del Carmen, turning the sand almost white and the ocean into liquid sapphire.
She adjusted her sunglasses, tugged her linen beach bag higher on her shoulder, and told herself for the hundredth time that this solo trip had been the right decision.
Six months after the breakup, she needed distance from New York winters, from the apartment that still smelled faintly of his cologne, from the memories that clung to every corner of the city.
A week of margaritas, ocean air, and absolutely no men had sounded perfect.
She checked in at the open-air lobby, accepted a welcome hibiscus cocktail, and made her way along the palm-lined path to her oceanfront bungalow.
The room was exactly as promised, a king bed draped in white linen, sliding doors opening straight onto a private stretch of beach, the rhythmic hush of waves already working its magic on her frayed nerves.
Lila changed into the red bikini she had bought specifically for this trip, one she had never dared wear when she was with Caleb.
Too bold, he had said once. Too much. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror, took a steadying breath, and decided she liked “too much” just fine now.
By the time she reached the beach, the sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in sherbet oranges and pinks.
The resort’s main stretch was dotted with couples and families, but farther down, where the palm shadows grew longer, it was quieter.
She spread her towel on a lounger near the water’s edge, slathered sunscreen across her shoulders, and opened the paperback she’d brought for exactly this moment.
Peace. Finally, she had barely read three pages when a shadow fell across her.
“Mind if I steal the chair next to you? Everywhere else is taken.”
The voice was low, familiar, and impossible.
Lila’s heart stopped, then slammed against her ribs. She lowered her sunglasses slowly.
Caleb Reid stood there in navy board shorts, bare-chested, salt water still glistening on his skin.
His dark hair was longer than it had been in New York, curling at the ends, and the sun had already bronzed the sharp lines of his shoulders.
He looked exactly like the man she had spent six months trying to forget and exactly like the man she had never quite managed to.
He hadn’t seen her face yet; he was busy shaking water from his hair like a dog.
Lila sat frozen, book forgotten in her lap. This wasn’t happening.
Out of every beach in Mexico, every week in the year, he could not be here now.
“Caleb,” she said, the name scraping out of her throat.
His head snapped up. For a second his expression was pure shock, his eyes wide, his mouth parted then something warmer, hungrier, flickered across his face before he locked it down.
“Lila.” He said her name like he was tasting it again after a long drought. “Holy shit.”
She pulled her sunglasses off completely. “What are you doing here?”
“Same thing as you, I’m guessing.” He gestured vaguely at the ocean.
“I needed to get away.” His gaze traveled over her slowly, red bikini, bare legs, the faint tan lines just beginning on her shoulders and his jaw tightened. “You look… incredible.”
Heat flooded her cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun.
She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly aware of how little fabric the bikini actually provided.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
A half-smile tugged at his mouth. “Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are.”
He hesitated, then dropped into the lounger beside hers anyway, as if the past six months of silence had never happened.
Up close, she could smell the ocean on his skin and the faint trace of whatever cologne he still wore, something like oud or vanilla and warm that used to cling to her sheets.
“How’ve you been?” he asked quietly.
The simple question cracked something open inside her.
All the late-night texts she had typed and deleted, all the times she had almost called him just to hear his voice, all the anger and hurt and lingering want came rushing back.
“Fine,” she lied. “Great, actually. New job. New apartment. New… everything.”
His eyes searched hers, seeing straight through the bravado the way he always had. “I’m glad,” he said, but his voice was rough. “You deserve that.”
Silence stretched between them, filled by the crash of waves and distant laughter. Caleb leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the sand.
“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted. “I came here to clear my head. Seeing you…” He exhaled sharply. “It’s messing with me already.”
Lila’s pulse fluttered. She should leave. Stand up, gather her things, walk away before the old patterns pulled her under again.
Instead she heard herself ask, “Why did you need to clear your head?”
He glanced sideways at her, something vulnerable flashing across his face. “Because I still think about you. Every damn day.”
The confession hung in the warm air like a spark near dry tinder.
Lila’s breath caught. She looked away, out at the horizon where the sun was melting into the sea.
“You ended it, Caleb. You said we wanted different things.”
“I was wrong.” The words came out fast, almost desperate.
“I panicked. I thought if I let you go, you would find someone who could give you everything I couldn’t. But these past six months…” He shook his head. “I’ve been miserable without you.”
She turned back to him. His eyes were steady on hers, no trace of the cool detachment he had worn the night he had walked out.
The resort lights began to flicker along the beach path, casting golden pools in the growing dusk.
Around them, guests drifted toward dinner, but neither of them moved.
Lila’s skin prickled with awareness of the humid breeze, of the sand beneath her feet, of the man beside her who still knew exactly how to unravel her with a look.
“Don’t say things like that,” she said softly. “Not unless you mean them.”
“I mean them.” He reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and brushed a knuckle along her wrist.
The touch was feather-light, but electricity shot straight through her.
“I’m staying in bungalow twelve. If you want to talk… or yell at me… or anything. I’ll be there.”
His fingers lingered for a heartbeat longer, then he stood.
Water droplets still clung to his chest; she tried not to stare.
“I’ll let you get back to your book,” he said, voice low. “But Lila… I’m not going anywhere this week. Not unless you tell me to.”
He walked away toward the bar, leaving footprints in the sand that the tide would soon erase.
Lila sat motionless long after he disappeared, heart racing, skin tingling where he’d touched her.
The sun slipped below the horizon, and the first stars appeared.
She closed her book without marking the page.