“No long goodbyes. The night just started,” Avery snapped, cutting them off. “It’s a small world. Made smaller by airplanes and shit like that.”
Everyone stopped talking and stared at her.
Avery looked around, oblivious to the effect her words had on the group. “God, I’m hungry.”
Shannon hid her smile behind her hand, counting the hours until the morning when Avery wouldn’t be able to deny her fate any longer.
If there was one thing she was well read on, it was pregnant women and single mothers. She was happy that her friend was only half of that equation—not that Avery couldn’t handle taking on a child by herself. She could. Liam, however, would balance out all of Avery’s insecurities.
Once her drink arrived, Shannon lifted it in a toast. “To new friends.”
Victor touched his glass to hers. “To surprising friends.”
Their eyes caught and gooseflesh prickled on her arms.
Gooseflesh and Victor were words that had no right belonging together. Her gaze moved to his lips. It had been a long time since she’d noticed a man’s lips.
“When do you girls leave?” Dylan asked, pulling Shannon out of her thoughts of first kisses and butterflies.
“Day after tomorrow.” Their time had flown by.
“What about you, Victor?”
Victor watched Shannon as he answered, “I’m booked through Monday, but ah . . . I don’t know.”
“I thought Corrie said you had two weeks,” Shannon said.
“Another week in Cozumel . . . I’m not feeling it. I took a whole week, that’s big for me,” he said, directed at Shannon.
“I’m pleasantly surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
He chuckled. “Me either.”
“At least now you have the right clothes if you ever come back.” Dylan nudged Victor.
“Why would he come back?” Erasmo asked Dylan. “This is where the ex dumped him.”
“Hello, Mr. Sensitivity!” Dylan scolded.
“Sorry.”
Victor brushed them off. “I have less memories of her here than I do of all of you.”
Shannon doubted he would ever be able to return and not think of Corrie.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to her when you see her again?” Avery asked.
Victor looked away. “No. I’ve actually done very little thinking about the whole thing.”
That explains his flirting, Shannon thought. Ignore the woman at home so you could concentrate on the woman in front of you. In this case, her.
“Lots of fish in the sea. I’m sure you’ll find someone new to swim with.” Avery smiled at Victor when she spoke.
“Lots of sharks out there, too,” Dylan added.
Avery narrowed her eyes. “Shannon’s not a shark.”
“I didn’t say anything about Shannon.”
Shannon jumped in. “I’m not swimming in anyone’s ocean.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Erasmo asked.
“Duh, Victor and Shannon,” Avery said.
Shannon wanted to duck under the tiny table. “There is no Victor and Shannon.” Shannon attempted to bury Avery with a look.
It didn’t work. “We’d all have to be blind to not see this thing that’s going on here.” Avery waved her hand in the air between the two of them.
Erasmo caught on and smirked. “She has a point.”
“See?” Avery sat taller, as if she’d made her case known. “So no talking about sharks in the Victor and Shannon Ocean.”
“Now you lost me again.” Erasmo frowned.
Dylan leaned over. “Avery said there were lots of fish in the sea, I said beware of sharks—”
“Shannon’s not a shark,” was Erasmo’s reply.
“Exactly!” Avery lifted a hand in the air for him to fist bump.
It was like watching a skit of “Who’s on First,” only Shannon was standing on second.
“This is a ridiculous conversation. There is nothing going on between Victor and me.” She looked at Victor for his agreement.
He stared at her.
“You were engaged six days ago.”
“That’s true.”
“I thought you were a complete asshole.”
Okay, what had she said to pull that cocky smirk from his lips?
“What?” she asked him.
“Thought? Past tense.”
She backed out. “I’d go back to thinking that if you were hitting on me six days out from a near-marriage breakup. I mean, c’mon. Corrie’s perfume still lingers in your hair.”
It seemed the whole table leaned forward to sniff Victor.
“I’ve showered,” he told them.
Erasmo laughed.
“Figuratively speaking!” These people were exhausting her.
Victor leaned back on his hands, amused with himself, the conversation.
She wanted to hit him.
“So what is the appropriate time frame for hitting on someone after a near-marriage breakup?” Victor asked.
“I have no idea. But it’s a hell of a lot longer than six days.” She glared at him.
“Three months,” Erasmo said.
“That’s about right. Otherwise it’s just a rebound thing, and those never have a chance.” Dylan