The Red Bikini

by Lauren Christopher

  The lump in her throat lodged more securely, and all she could do was nod. What she was really thankful for was the way he made her feel—the confidence he’d given her to step back into the world after Roy. She tried to find the words to say it, but her head was pounding with the effort to hold back tears.

  “Take care,” he said when they let the silence linger too long. “And thank you, too, Giselle.”

  Before she could say another word, he hung up.

  Giselle clicked the receiver off and felt a crushing in her chest.

  • • •

  Fin tossed his cell phone onto the breakfast bar and hung his hands on his hips, surveying the ridiculousness he’d just cre-

  ated.

  He collected the plates he’d just bought, the first set of four matching glasses he’d ever owned, and the Disney Princess glass he’d bought Coco, and shoved them into his cupboard.

  Slamming the doors closed, he grabbed a bottled water and snapped off the burners for the tilapia and the green beans. He threw the fish back into the freezer.

  He was a fool.

  He collected the tickets off the dining table that he’d bought for the three of them—day passes to Disneyland, since he thought maybe Coco would want to see her princesses in real life—and shoved them under his phone. Maybe he’d just drop them off at Lia’s. He’d leave them on the doorstep when Giselle and Coco were at Rabbit’s surf camp. They could take Rabbit, in fact. Or maybe wait for Lia to come back. Or maybe they’d even go with Dan the Man.

  Fin ground his teeth at that thought, but it was up to her. And something like that would probably be best for her and Coco. They needed someone who might be able to stay, someone who was considered stable, someone she wouldn’t have to question about drugs, someone who didn’t have riptides outside his door.

  His chest was killing him. He thought he was going to throw up. He glanced at the garage door and told himself he needed to get in there and move those board bags.

  He leaned against the cupboard doors for another two minutes and tried to get some air in his lungs. He’d endured many losses in his life—from heats, to meets, to Jennifer, to his parents—but this one felt different.

  This one felt like the perfect wave—the last wave he ever needed—and he’d just let it go.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-four

  The next day at surf camp, Rabbit repeated his offer to Giselle for leaving Coco, in case she wanted to do something for herself for a couple of hours. But she declined again, hiding her puffy eyelids behind a pair of sunglasses.

  She’d cried after Coco had fallen asleep, feeling like a silly teenager with her tears soaking the living room pillow, but it made her feel better. She was tired of keeping her feelings all bottled up.

  “Are you sure?” Rabbit said, selecting a foam board for Coco.

  The other parents hadn’t arrived yet. Giselle scouted her favorite spot and laid her beach blanket territorially. “I’m sure.”

  Rabbit glanced up the hill toward their apartment complex. “You could have a hella cool little hookup with Fin,” he offered, low. “Can’t be easy with the little grommet around.”

  Giselle felt her face flush. She smoothed the blanket and sat on the edge. “Um . . . Well, we—Fin and I—we’re over with, Rabbit.”

  “No kidding?” He frowned, sitting next to her. “What happened? Or—oh, wait. He’s leaving today, right? Ballito?”

  Giselle nodded.

  “Well, all the more reason to see him.”

  “It’s not like that, Rabbit. It’s just . . . We’re done.”

  “You shouldn’t give up that fast.”

  “No, it’s . . . complicated.” She didn’t want to think about this anymore. She could already feel the lump in her throat again. “How are you doing with Callie?”

  He paused, squinting at her transparent change of subject, and threw a piece of driftwood. “That’s ending before it ever began.”

  “No! Why?” It was Giselle’s turn to be shocked.

  “She probably won’t go for me, Giselle. She’s all responsible and crap. She’s a mom of a five-year-old kid. I’m like a kid myself.”

  “Rabbit! You take care of kids every day.”

  He shook his head as if that were irrelevant.

  They both watched the surf for a minute, watching the white foam marble across the water.

  “Rabbit.” Giselle shifted on the towel to look at him closer. She wished she could take her sunglasses off but she didn’t want him to see the evidence of her own pain. She settled on gripping his elbow to make him understand. “You are smart, and funny, and responsible, and a caring man.” She gave him a small shake with each compliment. “You could make someone like Callie feel very secure.”

  “You think I’m responsible?”

  “Yes! I think you’re wonderful, and caring, and you have those beautiful eyes.”

  He peered at her sideways. “You’re not flirting with me, are you, Ms. Underwood?”

  “I wouldn’t dare. But I think you should go for Callie. You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t try.”

  “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

  The waves crashed right then, along with a dousing of guilt in her chest. She had tried. Had opened up, just a little. Had let out her gasps of joy. Had allowed herself those pleasures. But she needed to decide between motherhood and love now. And love held no guarantees.

  “It’s different for me, Rabbit.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “We live in different worlds. And different states. Trying to make something work for Fin and me would be like trying to get a sea horse to live on a prairie.”

  He looked at her plaintively and then pulled off her glasses. He took in her swollen eyes, then dropped his gaze. “Thought so.”

  He set her glasses on the blanket. “Listen, Giselle, I know this isn’t any of my business, but I haven’t seen Fin this happy in the five years I’ve known him. His face has ‘ga-ga’ written all over it every time he sees you. And, based on your puffy peepers there, you’ve been cryin’ a river yourself at the idea of him leaving. So I think the two of you need to have a long look at what you’re doing. Because, from where I sit, it looks like you’ve both been looking for something, and you’ve both found it. But for false reasons, you’re both afraid to dive in.”

  “Hi, Rabbit!” A parent snuck up behind them, and Rabbit leaped to his feet. He shook hands with the mom and gave the six-year-old a low five. “Tanner. Put it there.”

  Giselle closed her mouth at Rabbit’s lecture and shoved her glasses back on. She was glad he turned away and went to greet the other parents.

  Mostly because she worried he might be right.

  • • •

  When Giselle and Coco trudged up the pebbled-concrete stairs to her apartment—Coco still bubbling with enthusiasm about how well she surfed—they came upon an envelope taped to Lia’s front door with Giselle’s name on the front. She didn’t recognize the handwriting.

  Inside were three gift-card passes to Disneyland wrapped in a piece of notebook paper.

  “So Coco can meet her Disney princesses.—Fin”

  She took in the handwritten words five or six times.

  There were three passes. He must have intended to go. The idea of Fin wanting to spend the day at Disneyland with her and Coco was a little much for her to handle. She sniffed and focused on unlocking the door while Coco kept yanking at her cover-up and asking what it was.

  “A generous gift for us, baby,” she said.

  When they got inside, Giselle told Coco to clean her hands and face for lunch. She grabbed her cell phone and glanced at the clock. He was probably already on his twenty-hour flight.

  “Fin, I got the tickets,” she said into his voice mail. “Thank you. That was . . . too generous
. I can’t thank you enough. . . . Coco’s going to love it. We’ll take Lia. I . . . just . . . want to say thanks. Again. And I miss you already.”

  She hung up hurriedly, before she could gush. She didn’t want to sound like one of his groupies. But she did. Miss him, that was. And she wanted him to know.

  And maybe a tiny bit of Rabbit’s speech had lodged into her consciousness like hope.

  • • •

  “Lia!” Giselle exclaimed, rushing to hug her as soon as her sister came bumping through the doorway with her suitcases.

  She hadn’t seen her sister in about two years—except random photos in e-mails—and it was so good to see her in person, to feel her strong hug, to jump up and down with her, to touch her hair. She still smelled like apple shampoo.

  “I canceled my last two appointments so I could catch you. Where’s Coco?”

  “Surprise!” Coco squeaked, bursting out from under a blanket.

  Lia laughed and rushed for a big hug.

  The three of them jumped around in a hug circle, then made potato au gratin for dinner, along with three large salads.

  Giselle nervously served everyone while she wondered how to broach the topic of Fin with Lia.

  “So,” she began, “I’ve been meeting your friends.” They all sat down at Lia’s dining table. Giselle had put a vase of fresh flowers in the center of the table—beautiful sunflowers from the farmers’ market on Main Street—and Lia eyed them appreciatively.

  “Rabbit?” Lia asked.

  “Yes. And Corky, and Jezzy, and Brent and Kino . . .”

  “Did you get them all in the brochure? They’re amazing up-and-comers. Jezzy is up for the Junior World Title already—did they tell you that? He’s—”

  “And Fin!” Coco exclaimed.

  Lia halted her first bite of salad midair and turned a large set of eyes toward Giselle. “You met Fin? I thought he was going to South Africa?”

  “He postponed a little, I guess.”

  Lia raised an eyebrow.

  “We brought him a birthday cake!” Coco added.

  Lia’s eyes widened farther.

  “And his nose got a boo-boo, but Mommy made it better.”

  A million telepathic questions seemed to shoot Giselle’s way as Lia wiped her mouth with her napkin. Her expression was vacillating between shock and worry. “What else, Coco?”

  “He kissed Mommy at the funeral.”

  Giselle’s face went hot. She became determined to stab a crouton with her fork.

  Lia sighed. “Can’t wait to hear all about this. . . . But I think I’ll wait until you’re in bed, my dear. Tell me about surf camp with Rabbit.”

  • • •

  Once Coco was snuggled into her Polly Pocket blanket on Lia’s bed, and Lia had a chance to read Stellaluna to her twice, Lia sauntered back through the living room and joined Giselle in the kitchen. She leaned against the countertop, watching Giselle load the dishes into the dishwasher.

  “So,” she said, “why don’t you start at the beginning?”

  Giselle felt a wave of rebellion against Lia’s accusatory tone—like a teenager who’d come home late for curfew. Maybe Roy had been right. Maybe he and Lia knew something about Fin she couldn’t see. Maybe she wasn’t the responsible, capable mother she’d always thought she was. Maybe she’d put Coco in some kind of danger because of her own lust. . . . She slammed the next two plates into the dishwasher.

  “I tried to call you,” Giselle said. “I was asking on the phone what you thought of him.”

  “What happened?”

  “I just . . . met him.”

  “Doesn’t sound like that’s all that happened.”

  “I . . . Well, Rabbit took us to a party, and Fin was there, and . . . he asked me to an event with him, and I asked him to go to Joe’s funeral with me.”

  “You asked him to Joe’s funeral?”

  When she heard it laid out like this, it did sound a little crazy. Giselle shoved the forks into the basket holder.

  “So what happened then? How did he kiss you at the funeral?”

  “Why don’t you tell me why you’re interrogating me first?” Giselle snapped. “What should you have told me after my many phone calls to you?”

  “I told you I lost my phone.”

  “Duly noted. But what would you have told me? What should I know about Fin?”

  Lia sighed. Her shoulders slumped. “He’s hot. No question. You have good taste. But he’s . . . kind of a player. Did he sleep with you?”

  All of Giselle’s old insecurities came crashing down like a velvet play curtain. She remembered Fin at the party, hand across Veronica’s abdomen like it had a home there; all the women at the party who were touching his shoulder, leaning in toward him; the waitress asking for his autograph, looking at him adoringly. . . . Maybe he was just a player, and she’d just caught him on a few dull nights when his calendar happened to be empty. Maybe he’d just been giving her his usual lines. . . .

  “Yes, I slept with him.” She could hardly get the words out of her mouth.

  “Damn him!” Lia pushed up from the counter. “I sure hope you used a condom.” She marched into the living room, throwing pillows aside as if she were looking for something.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I already can’t find my new phone. Did you move it? I need to call Fin.”

  “Lia! You are in no way calling Fin about this.”

  She did, in fact, know where Lia’s phone was. She’d seen it charging in Lia’s bedroom when she’d gone to get Coco’s pajamas. Lia seemed to remember it at the same time, and whirled toward the bedroom.

  Giselle galloped in front of her and threw herself across the door. “No! Mother-of-pearl, I’m serious, Lia. This is not going to happen.”

  Lia reeled back, surprise in her eyes, but then a grin stole across her face. “Nice. I see you’re getting a backbone. I like the forceful body against the door. Your swearing needs a little work, though.”

  “Lia, please. Let’s sit down.” She whispered the last part, hoping they wouldn’t wake Coco.

  Lia backed off. “Okay. But you need to tell me what happened. Everything. I’m pissed. Do you know how many women he sleeps with a year? He’s got seventeen-year-old girls lined up at his hotel room wherever he competes, you know. Brazil, Australia, Hawaii . . . He couldn’t have left you alone?”

  “He said you would be mad.”

  “I am. So spill it. And tell me when you became such a hussy.”

  Giselle groaned but Lia threw a pillow at her. “Kidding. Just tell me. If you say enough nice things, maybe I’ll spare him his balls next time he shows up.”

  • • •

  Giselle told Lia most of the story, leaving out some of the more embarrassing parts about her own giddy feelings toward Fin. But she told her about the sex in pretty graphic detail. Lia’s eyes widened.

  “All right,” Lia said, shifting her legs underneath her on the couch. “I probably don’t need to know this much about him. . . . But, well, maybe I want to.”

  Lia collapsed into a fit of giggles, hitting Giselle with a couch pillow she’d been clutching at her stomach. Giselle leaned her head back on the cushions and sighed. The grin on Lia’s face slipped away, and she touched Giselle’s hair.

  “I missed you, G.”

  “I know. I missed you, too.”

  “I’m glad you’re over Roy.”

  “I didn’t say that.” She frowned. Did she say that?

  “You don’t have to. You’re here. You’re laughing. You’re relaxed. You look smokin’ in my jeans, and you seem ten years younger with that cute hair. And you had what appears to be amazing sex with the Gigolo of Sandy Cove.”

  “Lia!” Giselle’s face flushed again. She plucked at the fringe on the pillow.

 
“But, I have to admit . . .” Lia leaned back in the same manner and stared up at the ceiling.

  “What?”

  “It does sound like he did spend more time with you than I ever recall him spending with anyone. Maybe he actually fell for you a little.” She looked at Giselle with something that hinted of admiration.

  “Too far-fetched?”

  “No, not at all. If he were going to fall for someone, it would be someone like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She seemed to think that over, bobbing her head to one side as if making friends with the idea. “You’re very beautiful, Giselle. I don’t know why you never believed that. But you’re beautiful on the inside, too. I think that’s what he’s been missing in the floozies he dates. And you’re smart. He loves that. And you’re . . . stable. I think Fin needs that especially.”

  “Stable sounds boring.”

  “Stable can be a lifesaver to someone who’s looking for it.”

  “And you think he is?”

  “I know he is. He doesn’t seem to know it, but it’s obvious to the rest of us.”

  Giselle nodded. It even seemed obvious to her and she hadn’t known him long.

  “You think I’m stable?” she asked.

  “Of course. I’ve always admired that about you. You always do the right thing.”

  “But . . . not recently. I thought you and Mom and Noelle were giving up on me, thinking I’d made such a bad decision with Roy. And now”—she flung her hand—“with Fin. You think he was an irresponsible decision.”

  “No, not at all!” Lia sat up. “We love you, Giselle. We just want you to be happy. Roy was too controlling. He was turning you into a robot. I can’t tell you how happy it makes us to see you out in the world, making your own decisions and not walking around like a Stepford Wife. And Fin was, maybe, a good decision after all—for good sex. Maybe you needed someone like him, to loosen you up a bit. But just don’t let him hurt you. Don’t count on him to send you a Christmas card or anything.” She cupped Giselle’s hand. “You’re going to be fine, G. You’re the best mom ever, and the nicest person, and you always land on your feet. You and Coco are going to thrive.”