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’ My mouth opened again to ask what he meant but I found myself totally frozen, eyes locked to his like a lifeline. ‘You’re beautiful, you know,’ he said, and it came out rushed and a little uncomfortable. Before I could reply, he continued, ‘No, you really are. You are so beautiful. I don’t know how I didn’t realize sooner. And you’re wonderful and smart and responsible and just generally fantastic, and the last two months have been the hardest months of my life. Not talking with you – not being with you – makes me feel like half my soul is withering away inside me, as cliché as that sounds.’ Finally finding the ghost of my voice, I croaked out in a whisper, ‘What are you saying?’ ‘That – that I’m sorry for yelling at you in Vegas. And I’m sorry for manipulating you into our whole crazy bet. And I’m so, so sorry it’s taken me this long to apologize.’ A pang of disappointment shot through me. ‘I’m sorry, too. Is that all?’ He ran a hand through his hair in a tense, jerky way. ‘No,. I hung my head.“If I wrote an autobiography, it’d mostly be fiction,” I told him. “I don’t know most of what makes me, me. What thoughts and ideas brought me here?”“Amanda, huh?” Dad snapped his fingers to call over Sam the bartender. She had her hair fixed in that stupid upward swiping tail. “I need a phone, darling.”“Right away,” She nodded.“And you can take the ashtrays,” I added, “We’re done smoking.”“Good thinking,” Dad nodded. “So long as we stay here, even if Larry raises hell, so long as we’re doing island stuff, we won’t be railroaded.”“Your phone, Master Tanner,” Sam knelt down by Dad’s shoulder, pressed the call icon, and held the tablet.“Sao Huberto Resort, Frankie speaking.” The girl in the receptionist’s chair was dressed nice in a slate jacket and red kerchief. She was a baby-faced, orange-haired, freckle-bombed, blue-eyed teen trying to look positive and professional. It was difficult giving her that hand up knowing she was for hire.“Hey Frankie,” Dad mumbled off,.
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