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  She gripped his T-shirt and mumbled, “He sexted women when he was bored.”

  He gently pried her away. “What?”

  Sofia couldn’t look him in the eye. Jon had been wrong about her trying to protect Franco. She’d been trying to protect herself from the embarrassment of having to tell her new lover that her old lover hadn’t found her that interesting and made up for what she was lacking with apps, screenshots and emojis.

  “He met women online and was chatting, sexting, you name it. One night I caught him—”

  “Okay. I got it.”

  “I want to tell you everything, Jon. It’s not easy.”

  “I’m sorry I harassed you,” he said. “Sorry he put you through that. Sorry for all of it.”

  “I’m here with you because I want you,” she said. “Can’t we leave the past behind?”

  Her hair was flapping every which way in the breeze. He gathered fistfuls and pulled her into a kiss. They kissed in front of their fellow tourists and the vendors that catered to them. They kissed long and slow in front of couples, kids, contortionists and cartoonists. Sofia thought she might lose her head, but it was her heart that escaped her, drifting unnoticed out to sea.

  Chapter 14

  Sofia in the sun was a gift. Her skin glowed. She wore her hair wet, slicked back and curling at the tips. At the beach she was a playful child, jumping onto Jon’s back as they waded into the water. She spent an hour building igloos in the sand. They’d rented two lounge chairs, but used only one. The other held all her stuff—a beach day survival kit that she hardly touched. Now, she rested her head on his chest while he stroked her back. The smell of salt on her skin combined with the lazy back and forth of the surf was giving him ideas.

  A woman with shaggy blond hair approached them, asking in a French-Canadian accent whether this was the beach where Diana Nyad had come to shore. At sixty-four, Nyad had swum the straights from Cuba to Key West, risking death by dehydration or shark attack.

  Sofia was quick to confirm it. “Yup! This is where she made history.”

  “She’s one of my heroes,” the woman said. “I have no intention of swimming with the sharks when I retire, but you see what I mean.”

  Sofia agreed. “I’ll swim laps in my pool.”

  Jon scanned the shoreline. The ordinary beach, now apparently a historic landmark, didn’t rank as a wonder of the world. He was convinced the sand had been brought in by the truckload. The ocean rushed forward in thin pale sheets onto a rug of brown, mangled seaweed. And it smelled of sulfur. Beyond the beach, the breadth of the ocean was awe-inspiring. And he had to admit, when sunlight touched the surface, the metallic glow was gorgeous.

  Not as gorgeous as Sofia.

  “Are you two on your honeymoon?” the woman asked.

  “Who? Us?” Sofia asked, stunned.

  “You two can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s lovely to see. But I shouldn’t assume. This is Key West, after all.”

  Why was Sofia so shocked? Jon knew she thought their days were numbered and that was fine for now, but why did he feel she knew the exact number?

  The woman returned to a frayed towel stretched out on the sand. Jon waited before asking why she was surprised that strangers thought they were together.

  She twisted to face him, sitting on her knees. “Being together and being married is not the same thing, Jon.”

  He tilted his head, looking past her. “You’ve only got to look at them to know that’s true.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, spotting the couple rounding up kids and dutifully packing up toys. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “What’s wrong with us, Sofia?” he asked. “Why do I feel it’s over before it’s started?”

  “Because I’m not deluded, Jon,” she replied. “I know you think marriage is for suckers like them.”

  She pointed to their reference couple now negotiating a peace agreement with a screaming toddler.

  “I never said that,” he replied.

  “Okay,” she said. “Tell me one time you met someone, fell in love and had a vision of forever.”

  “Define ‘forever.’”

  “Jon, I’m serious.”

  And so was he, he realized. This was not the time or place for this conversation. But if she was going to bring it up...

  “I’m capable of making a commitment,” he said. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Name a time you actually did commit,” she persisted.

  “Law school. She was L3. I was L1.”

  “Is that like a sergeant dating a soldier?” she teased.

  “Do you want to hear this or not?” he asked.

  By the set of her jaw, he knew she didn’t want to hear it, just like she didn’t want to see the rain clouds gathering over the horizon.

  “Skip to the relevant part,” she said. “We all know you have a thing for lawyers.”

  “How do we all know that?” he asked. “Was there a press conference I missed?”

  “Your Viv was a lawyer.”

  “My what?” Jon laughed and laughed. It wasn’t possible to add any more contempt to one syllable than she had with that name.

  “Sofia... I know you’re not jealous. Right?”

  She drummed his chest with her delicate fists. “Don’t laugh at me!”

  At that moment, three women in color-coordinated bathing suits stepped up to the lounge chair they shared. He hadn’t seen them coming. Now that they were standing there, casting a long shadow, he wanted to shoo them away. Whoever they were, their timing couldn’t have been worse.

  “You guys!” Sofia cried. Her voice had an uphill curve.

  One of the three stepped forward as the leader. “Surprised to see us? You wouldn’t be if you’d answered any one of our fifty or so emails.”

  Sofia scooted off the chaise. “Our B and B has no Wi-Fi.”

  Jon shifted. Where was his sharp-tongued Sofia, the woman who’d been arguing with him every leg of this very short trip?

  “Wi-Fi?” the leader repeated, incredulous. She was thin, with brittle limbs and long brown hair. “We’ve been trying to reach you to schedule this trip for weeks. Plus, I asked you about it at your parents’ anniversary party—”

  “That party is a blur,” Sofia said. “Mom drove me crazy. I’m here to recover from it.”

  “We see that.”

  The three women looked pointedly at Sofia, then Jon, then Sofia again. Sofia looked as if she were melting under the heat of their combined stares. Her cheeks took on a hue that for all they’d been through, he’d never seen.

  She seemed helpless.

  Jon could do her the favor of slinking away but he was not that man, the meek elephant in the room. So instead, he rolled up to his feet and unfolded to his full stature, and looked down at the four women. They didn’t get to talk around him. And Sofia would have to learn someday that she didn’t get to speak for him.

  “Hi, everyone,” he said. “I’m Jon.”

  All eyes were on him. Sofia touched his arm and said, “Jon, this is my cousin Merci... I mean Mercedes, and our friends Sheryl and Riya.”

  The three women curtly said hello.

  “What’s everyone drinking?” Jon asked.

  That simple question switched the dynamics.

  “Strawberry daiquiri!”

  “Piña colada!”

  “Margarita, no salt!”

  Sofia looked up at him, her eyes brimming with gratitude. “Nothing for me. Thanks.”

  Everything for you.

  Jon’s heart was pounding at the thought. He didn’t want to leave her, but felt it was best to give her space. He told her that he’d be at the bar. “I’ll have a waiter send over your drinks.”

  * * *

  Merci and the others were the last people
Sofia had expected to see. It was as if her past had come to snatch her out of this new world she was exploring on her own terms. She had come very close to surrendering to their authority. One more pointed glare from Merci and she’d have stuck out her wrists, resigned, ready to be cuffed and hauled away. But then Jon had stood beside her and she’d recovered fully. Sofia watched Jon walk away while Merci, Riya and Sheryl piled onto the chaise with all her stuff. He was showing extraordinary restraint, considering that he’d been cast out of his own beach chair by what looked like three former members of Destiny’s Child.

  Reluctantly, Sofia sat opposite them, facing the firing squad.

  Merci attacked first. “You’re cheating on Franco?”

  “No, no, no, no, no!” Sofia couldn’t let that be the takeaway from all this.

  “That’s what it looks like,” Merci said.

  “Franco and I are done,” Sofia said. That was all she would say. If Jon had to pry the truth out of her like a pearl from a clam, she certainly wasn’t going to give it up to these three.

  “And when were you planning on telling us?” Merci asked.

  “Soon,” Sofia replied. “Look, we haven’t even told our parents.”

  Riya leaned forward and asked, “Is it because of his legal troubles?”

  So the news had gotten out. Sofia hesitated, not wanting to confirm any wild rumors they might have heard. “No. That’s not it at all.”

  Riya tossed her a doubtful look.

  “We know all about it,” Sheryl said. “Something about taxes.”

  Now that she thought about it, “something about taxes” sounded way better than “something about sexting.” At the end of the day, Franco’s legal problems were a matter of public record. But what he chose to do with his smartphone data plan was his own damn business.

  “It didn’t take you long to move on,” Merci said drily.

  Sofia noted how sure her friends were that she’d dumped Franco.

  The waiter arrived with a tray of cocktails, including a Tequila Sunrise for Sofia. She reached for it with a shaky hand. Jon knew she didn’t mess around with fruity drinks. Had he ordered the bona fide vacation cocktail so she could fit in with her friends? She tipped her glass. The orange and red swirl took her back to their sunset kiss.

  “So, who the hell is he?” Merci resumed the attack.

  “Jon, you mean?” Sofia said. “He’s a lawyer, a good one. New Jersey native.”

  “This can’t be happening,” Sheryl said. “You and Franco have been together for so long.”

  “Too long,” Sofia said.

  The three stared at her, disappointment molding their features. Sofia felt sickened, as if she’d told a four-year-old that the mall Santa was also the mall-parking attendant on the off-season. She lowered her eyes, sipped her cocktail, brushed sand off her knees and prayed the inquisition would be over soon. When she glanced up again, her friends were still staring at her.

  “Look,” Sofia said wearily. “I kept things quiet for my mom’s sake—that’s it. And I get it. You’re team Franco, but—”

  “This is life,” Riya said. “There are no teams. We’re just asking.”

  “I’m not team anyone,” Sheryl said. “Except maybe this new guy. I’m into him.”

  “My piña is delicious,” Riya said. “Thank him, please.”

  Sofia studied her friends with gradual understanding. They’d met Jon for all of five minutes, but that was enough. He’d won them over. Merci was the only holdout.

  “I was your maid of honor!” Merci cried. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  Sofia’s attitude softened. Merci had been so looking forward to the wedding. As a little girl, she’d married off all her dolls in frilly dollar-store dresses. She was single, waiting for the elusive Mr. Right and believed in happy endings. That did not include a canceled wedding and a bride moving on with a lawyer from New Jersey.

  “Merci, I’m sorry,” Sofia said. “You’re right. I should’ve told you.”

  “Yes, you should’ve,” Merci snapped.

  “How about we meet up later?” Riya proposed. “We’ve got reservations at La Te Da. Join us!”

  “No,” Sofia said. “Jon and I have dinner plans.”

  Riya frowned. She was a nurse, and her inclination was always to heal and restore. Sofia appreciated the effort, but she had to shut her down. She did not want to meet with them at La Te Da or anywhere else. All she wanted was to resume her vacation still in progress.

  “We’re not at the meet-the-friends stage yet,” Sofia said.

  And she doubted they’d ever get to that stage. Still, Sheryl’s next comment didn’t sit well with her.

  “He’s clearly the rebound guy,” Sheryl said. “Can I have him when you cut him loose?”

  “Okay.” Sofia stood up. “We’re done here.”

  She doled out hugs and kisses like lollipops at a pediatrician’s office and said goodbye. She joined Jon at the bar and placed her empty glass before him.

  “Thanks for this,” she said. “I needed it.”

  “Do we get them to sign non-disclosure agreements?” he asked. “I could draft one on a cocktail napkin.”

  “That won’t be necessary, smart-ass.”

  She reached for his hand and gave his long brown fingers a squeeze. Throughout the day, no matter what they’d been discussing, no matter how thorny those discussions got, they’d managed to stay physically connected. She wanted to reestablish that.

  “You panicked back there,” he said.

  “People who knew me and Franco as this stable couple may have a hard time accepting me and anyone else,” she said.

  “Will you ever accept it?” he asked.

  Sofia slid off her bar stool and went to him. Clearly, holding hands wasn’t going to do the trick. She slipped her arms around his waist and kissed his warm neck.

  “You know they’re still watching,” he said.

  “In that case...”

  Sofia kissed him full on the mouth and hoped he tasted orange and grenadine on her tongue. After all, this was their vacation.

  Chapter 15

  The extended-stay suite had a kitchenette with a window overlooking the courtyard. Banana trees hung limp, their leaves more yellow than green and heavy with the night’s rain. Beyond the hotel walls, the neighborhood was waking to the relentless crowing of large red roosters. For Sofia, it was like waking up in La Vega, the town in the Dominican Republic that her father was from and where she and Miguel had spent their summers growing up.

  Today, they’d be heading home. Sofia breathed in the fresh salt air and realized that life in the Keys was very much what people imagined life in Miami to be. Miami had its welcoming outer shell, consisting of tropical weather and a party vibe. Its core, though, was tough and inhospitable. Jon had lived all over the world, but Sofia couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. For all its flaws, Miami was home. Jon could pack up and leave at any time. True, he’d bought a house. But what were houses if not investments? Hadn’t Leila made that clear? The house was an asset. Something he could sell, bank the money and move on.

  Sofia pushed those thoughts out of her mind. She filled a moka pot with water, spooned ground coffee into the basket and placed it on the electric burner. The closest she ever came to meditation was when standing watch over her Nespresso machine. This simple stainless steel pot was primitive compared to her top-of-the-line coffeemaker, and waiting in quiet anticipation for it to boil over with fresh brewed coffee was a nice change.

  She heard Jon stumble around in the bedroom. Last night, their last in Key West, they’d had dinner at a restaurant overlooking the water. They’d discussed politics over a world-class seafood meal. Then they taxied over to Better Than Sex where they shared a decadent dessert and licked unctuous chocolate off the backs of their spoons and talked about global warmi
ng. They ended the evening with a nightcap at The Rum Bar and walked back to the hotel at two in the morning. Hand in hand, they strolled past strings of A-frame houses painted Easter egg colors. Sofia had rolled onto their bedroom floor, doubling over with laughter at a story the bartender had told them. She flopped onto her back, the hem of her skirt fanning out over the wood floor. Jon stretched out next to her and the look in his eyes, a most adoring look, had sobered her up in a flash.

  “It’s our last night,” she’d said.

  At last, it was time to talk about the one topic they’d avoided all evening.

  “Our last night here,” he said.

  She shook her head from side to side. “I like it here. I don’t want to go back.”

  He crawled over her, trapped her hips between his knees. “We can fake our own deaths and stay here forever, like the bartender’s girlfriend.”

  Sofia burst into laughter again. “Wasn’t that the craziest thing?”

  “Is there anything you want on our last night?” he asked.

  Emboldened by the free spirit of Key West, Sofia had reached between his legs and grabbed what she wanted. She looked down at her hands now, checking if they were changed somehow.

  * * *

  Jon came into the kitchen wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Sofia wasn’t wearing anything at all.

  He kissed her shoulder. “Coffee smells good.”

  A good coffee bean released the scent of the earth that nurtured it. The aroma rising from the little pot was certainly rich, but Sofia wanted to smell his skin. She turned to face him and was greeted by an impressive erection stretching through soft cotton boxers.

  She looked up to the wicked brown eyes. “Excuse me. What do you plan to do with that?”

  “Up to you,” he said.

  She smiled. “I have an idea.”

  Sofia sank to her knees and tugged at the waist of his shorts. She felt his hand dive into her messy hair and tighten its grip.