I blamed the sauna. That much heat in a confined space couldnāt be healthy.
I managed to retain a shred of dignity as I pressed the button, mostly by ignoring Xavierās shit-eating grin.
The staff came quickly after that, averting our potential demise. However, even though we werenāt in danger anymore, the possibility of dying next to Xavierāno matter how fleetingādid not bode well for the rest of the trip.
āI think itās a great start to the week,ā he said as we walked to our couples massage. The spa concierge had been so apologetic about the sauna lock-in that sheād added an extra half hour to our treatment. āWe survived death. It can only go uphill from here.ā
I pushed him into a nearby bush.
It was pure pettiness on my part, but it felt good. If it werenāt for him, I would be sitting happily in my office in New York, putting out fires instead of ārelaxing.ā
To my disgruntlement, Xavier didnāt fall; he merely stumbled into the hedge, and his laugh followed us into our massage room, where I made a point not to look at him as we disrobed. Iād already seen him half naked in the sauna, but it was hard to ignore the glimpses of tanned skin and sculpted muscle out of the corner of my eye.
The fact he was built like a Greek god when he did nothing except lounge around and party proved there was no justice in the universe.
We settled on our respective tables in silence. I couldnāt see him, but I could feel him two feet away. His presence filled the room, unearthing memories from our short-lived but unnerving sauna adventure.
Thereād been a moment, just one, when I looked at Xavier and my heart skipped a beat.
Who did you really go see?
Thereād also been a moment, just one, when I almost answered truthfully. Maybe it was the lack of judgment in his faceā¦or maybe the heat had melted my brain. That was far more likely.
My lids drifted closed as our massage therapists reentered the room and worked out our knots, but I couldnāt shut off my brain. How many emails had piled up in my inbox in the past hour?
Iād never gone this long without checking my phone. What if my office was on fire? That was the thing about working in a skyscraper. You were subject to the idiocy of other tenants, many of whom didnāt understand the basic tenets of fire safety.
Speaking of idiocy, what if Asher Donovan crashed another car? Did Jillian remember to send Ayana our terms of engagement? Was Isabella feeding The Fish properly?
Isabella wasnāt an idiot, but I had specific instructions for taking care of my pet goldfish, and she tended to get lost in her own world when she was in the middle of writing a book.
Anxiety spurred my heart rate into an agitated gallop. āYouāre very stressed,ā my therapist said softly. Her hands worked magic on my back and shoulders, but the poor woman would need a full week to loosen all my knots.
āIām from New York,ā I said as an explanation. Everyone was stressed. The only people who werenāt were the lazyā
āThatās not an excuse.ā Xavierās interjection destroyed my cocoon of attempted bliss. āIām from New York, and I donāt walk around with headaches every day.ā
I lifted my head to glare at him, but my therapistās warning tsk forced me back down. āFirst of all, youāre not from New York. Youāre from BogotĆ”. Second of all, you know nothing about my health. Third of allāā
āTurn over, please,ā my therapist said.
I obeyed with more force than necessary. āThird of all, youāre not stressed because you donāt do anything. You just sit there, spend your familyās money, and look pretty.ā
It was harsh, but a trust fund kid lecturing me was my last straw. Yes, Iād also grown up with money and all the privileges that came with it, but I gave that up when I left my family. Everything I had now, Iād earned.
Xavier never had to work for a single thing in his life. He had no right criticizing my choices, stress levels, or anything about me.
āSo,ā he said, āyou think Iām pretty.ā
āYouāā
āBreathe.ā My massage therapist pressed down on my shoulders. āThatās it. Release the tension from your shouldersā¦ā
Her gentle tone slowly smoothed the edges of my irritation. I inhaled a deep breath and swallowed an acerbic reply.
I prided myself on maintaining my composure at all times, but Xavier was the only person who could make me lose my cool.
āSeriously, you have enough money to step back and let your staff take the reins,ā he said. āWhy kill yourself at your job?ā
Donāt take the bait.
āI like my job.ā For the most part. But between Xavier and Asher, who had a penchant for fast cars and reckless driving, I was pushing my friendsā therapy skills to the limit.
I used to have a professional (non-massage) therapist, but she retired and Iāve hated every new one I tried after her. Maybe I should resume my search. God knew I needed one.
āWhat do you like about it?ā Xavier mustāve missed the memo that massages were meant to be silent.
āEverything.ā
āBullshit. You donāt like me.ā
His response was so frank and unexpected, I almost smiled.
Almost.
āFine. I like fixing things. Solving problems no one else can solve.ā Crisis management was only part of my job, but it gave me the biggest thrill. Writing press releases and managing media relations was fine, but I could do those things in my sleep.
āSo you like to be needed.ā
I turned my head before my therapist could stop me. Xavier met my gaze with a knowing one of his own, andā¦there it was again. A little skip in my chest, followed by the unnerving sense that he could see right past the shields Iād painstakingly built over the years.
Then I blinked, and the moment was gone.
I faced forward again and waited for my heartbeat to normalize before I spoke. āDonāt you get bored of doing nothing?ā
I didnāt touch on the keenness of his observation or the truth behind it.
I expected Xavier to brush off my question with his usual flippancy, but he answered with surprising honesty.
āSometimes,ā he said, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. āBut Iām good at doing nothing, so I stick to it. Itās better than fucking things up.ā
I closed my eyes, listening to the faint crash of waves outside the window and the deep, steady breaths of the man next to me.
We didnāt talk again after that.
Three hours, one facial, one lunch, and one extremely awkward aromatherapy soak for two later, I emerged from the spa marginally less stressed than when I walked in.