“Oh my god. What are you doing here?” I balked, hoping this very unlikely run-in was not actually with the man I thought I was seeing. There was a negligible chance.

He grunted, and in that Denzel voice, assuring me that he was real and that he was here, said, “What are you doing here?”

Damnit, Sunny. It was always him. Running into me at the office, bumping my chair during in-person meetings, glaring at me through virtual boxes, cap-yelling exchanges filling up my chat boxes.

“I’m on vacation,” I retorted, although I’d asked the question first.

“Same,” he said.

I dramatically looked around. “Of all the places to go on vacation, of all the places on this island alone, of all the places in this hotel itself, why are you here? Next to me? Now everyone’s going to think we went on vacation together.”

“Are you planning on blabbing on social media?”

I narrowed my eyes. “We work with smart people. They’ll figure it out.”

“No, they won’t. I don’t get into details. Maybe you shouldn’t, either.”

“Excuse me? How would you know? We’ve never had a personal conversation.”

“I know,” he said, turning back to his empty glass.

The stress of trying to get into work unnoticed had been replaced by Sunny’s presence. He was triggering. We always, instantly, fought. It was like a dog and cat sensing each other. Primal. Uncontrollable.

I released a pent-up breath and slurped my water. He was not going to ruin this vacation. He was a tourist and would go out and do touristy things. We would not, aside from chance encounters at the large pool or the even larger beach at the cove, see each other, and even that was unlikely.

“Why are you wearing sweatpants in this heat?” he asked after a beat.

“Should I be baring my legs for just anyone?”

He stuttered as I gave him a “Well, what the hell?” look complete with jostling head bob that our people had mastered over the centuries. His lips twitched. “You look ridiculous.”

“No one asked for your opinion on my appearance. And you’re one to speak.”

“What?” He looked down at his clothes.

“Epitome of tourist combined with the awkwardness of developer. I just can’t with you. You stick out like a sore thumb. Well, not here in this hotel or in this area because it’s filled with your kind, but go anywhere else and you might as well be holding a sign that says: ‘tourist.’ ”

“And you’re not one? At least I’m not baking in my own clothes.”

“My sister lives here, and I hang out here so often that the staff knows me by name. I know all the local spots, and no, I won’t be divulging such secrets to an outsider, and I know many of the customs and words and, ya know, culture.”

“So basically, you come here to work at the bar in your sweats?”

I scowled. But yes, he was right. “Why are you vacationing here?”

His rigid posture slackened when he replied, “Here for a friend’s wedding.”

You’d expect someone attending a destination wedding at such a beautiful location to be more excited, but Sunny seemed anything but. Well, whatever issue he had wasn’t my problem, despite wanting to know because, ya know, I was nosy.

I commented, “It’s a bad time for a wedding here. Didn’t the couple know about Ironman?”

His expression fell flat. “Apparently not.”

“Wow. You’re such a great conversationalist.”

“I know.”

I gritted my teeth. Sunny and his famous short, blunt replies. Why was I letting him get to me? I wasn’t here for him, and again, we wouldn’t run into each other often, if ever, while he was here.

His eyes flickered to something behind me, and the usually baiting deadpan of an expression he sported (yeah, try to imagine that one, but he’d somehow mastered it) morphed into tension with a sprinkle of irritation.

Something made his butt pucker more than me? This, I had to see for myself.

I didn’t have to turn because the woman who’d caused Sunny’s silence walked around the lounge chairs to stand several feet from him, enough that I could see her from the corner of my eye if I wasn’t trying to be nosy. But, as established, I was nosy, so I swiveled my seat to face them better.

The woman was gorgeous. She was tall and slim with long, thick, flowing hair; fake eyelashes for days; and pouty lips. Sunshine shimmered on bronze skin shown thoroughly in her two-piece swimsuit with lacy cover-up. Shades sat on top of her head and a tote hung from the crook of her bent elbow.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, her voice higher than mine and much sweeter.

“Not really,” Sunny replied with a tic in his jaw. Hmm…interesting.

“Just trying to be nice. Meet Pradeep, my boyfriend.” She hooked her free arm around the tall, built man beside her looking like a desi god. What gene pool were these people from?

“Nice to meet you,” Pradeep said with a jerk of his chin.

“Pradeep, this is my ex, Sunny. He’s also in the wedding party.”

Oh. I watched while sipping water. This had just gotten even more interesting.

Sunny shot me serious side-eye shade, as if silently yelling at me to mind my own business, but these guys were making it my business because I was here first, and they weren’t exactly quiet or subtle.

“Likewise,” Sunny said to Pradeep, all surly.

Now I understood why Sunny was in such an uptight mood in one of the world’s most leading vacation spots. If I saw my ex here, much less was in a wedding with him, I’d be pissy, too. No wonder he’d seemed less than excited to be off to vacation. Was this the reason he was the way he was?

Nah. Couldn’t be. I couldn’t see someone as hardworking, skilled, and assertive as Sunny being knocked down a few pegs by an ex. Or anyone for that matter. Seemed like any friction with another person only made him tougher, compelled not to let that friction take anything from him. It was actually one of the things I admired about the man. He was strong and hardly anything got to him. Well, except me. It was pretty much a superpower of mine at this point, one I wielded at every golden opportunity and with not great responsibility.

Unlike Sunny, Pradeep was the chillest about the entire ex thing. He was all smiles and just as happy as a clam being in Hawaii, noting the beautiful weather and cove at the beach where his girl had excitedly spotted a sea turtle in the distance. He even asked Sunny how he was and about his flight and what he did for work, et cetera, as if they were just two strangers meeting and on the road to friendship. The ex-girlfriend smirked, enjoying the entire exchange, her eyes never leaving Sunny. It was almost as if she were draining his energy, because his posture slowly wilted over the course of several minutes.

A tinge of annoyance hit me. I didn’t care for people who acted that way. What had transpired between the two for there to be such palpable tension in the air, to the point where even I could feel the loathing? It was reducing any sort of peace I’d had. My soul might, in fact, be circling some dark, hellish hole at this point. Talk about toxic.

Sunny entertained the new man in his ex’s life by answering his questions with as much friendliness as he usually toted, which wasn’t much, but that meant he didn’t loathe this guy.

Sunny even returned the questions out of sheer politeness, because no way was his indifferent posture relaying a single ounce of interest. Unless Sunny was actually this way with everyone?

I thought back to the times I’d seen him working in person. When he was focused, he was an animal with blinders on with zero spatial awareness outside of his many screens. But I’d recalled him blending in at my work party a year ago when he’d so rudely walked into my bedroom while I was in the middle of fighting a breakdown. We’d never been friendly, but Sunny spoke with kindness and understanding and interest with other coworkers.

All the devs under his supervision said he was tough, but easy to talk to. Sunny was inviting, if one could believe that. All the designers and researchers I worked with on shared projects said he was funny, a coding genius. I believed the latter but, the former? I had yet to see what the hell they were talking about.