ing photos from every imaginable angle. An ancient canon loom-
ing over the breathtaking beach below made for an amazing shot.
She spotted David and Yara embracing by an aged brick fortifi-
cation, and she captured them against the azure mirror of the sea and sky. They appeared oblivious to her presence, and she
couldn’t wait to frame it for them as a wedding gift. She also
snapped a candid picture of Cheyenne swinging on a tree swing
with Liam clapping enthusiastically on her lap. It was the sweetest moment, and Steph couldn’t wait to develop it.
She took her time as she wandered in and out of various
portions of the fort. She thought about all the history that must have happened in that spot and shuddered at the enormity of it.
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She was about to leave through an ancient archway when she
saw Phillip leaning against it looking her direction. As she’d
done so many times in the past couple of years, she lifted her
camera and zoomed in on him. He was staring directly at her,
and she snapped a photo of him automatically. He moved pur-
posely toward her, and she stayed frozen by a dilapidated door-
way, waiting for whatever wrathful words he had for her.
He came to a rapid halt about two feet in front of her. She
stared at the grass between their shoes, and after a full minute of silence, she dared to meet his eyes. Those grey-blue eyes had
always had a certain transparency for her. She could never tell
exactly what he was thinking, but she could read his emotional
state fairly well most of the time. The sorrow she now saw be-
hind them overwhelmed her with remorse. Yet she still stood
behind her original decision. He’d been far better off not know-
ing. But it was too late to think about all that now.
“I’m finding it hard to form a cohesive sentence,” he finally
sighed, rubbing his stubble nervously.
Stephanie nodded and released her camera so that it hung
forgotten around her neck. “That makes two of us.”
He heaved a gut-wrenching sigh and put his hands in his
pockets. “I have no idea where to begin.”
She nodded. “I’ll start. Plain and simple: I should have told
you. But honestly, now I’m really sorry you had to find out at
all.”
He nodded, never taking his eyes off of the crashing surf of
the shore below. She saw grief weighing on his handsome fea-
tures and vividly remembered when it had all been so fresh for
her that it stung every morning when she woke. She’d robbed
him of the opportunity to properly mourn for far too long. Regret crippled her, and she took slow, steady breathes to calm herself so that when she spoke again, she sounded level and calm.
“It was a girl, Phillip.” She offered. His eyes shot to hers,
and he took a jarring step back as if she’d hit him. Tears sprang 144
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to his eyes, and he held up a defensive hand. Steph’s eyes darted to his, trying to understand his body language. She was shocked
at the extent of his reaction.
“I….I really thought I was ready to do this. I…I’m sorry; I
just can’t.” He backed slowly away from her as if she had a gun
trained on him. She opened her mouth to ask him not to go, but
his eyes begged her not to speak, to spare him further wounds.
She said nothing and watched him walk away once again.
She made sure to lag behind as everyone piled into SUV’s
for their next stop, the village center. Finally, she climbed into the last remaining Land Rover with Saffron, Nathan, and Cheyenne, who looked psychotically pissed. When they disembarked
in town, Steph watched Scot approach their vehicle. Though she
couldn’t hear what they were saying to one another, Cheyenne
looked like she was about to go fifty shades of ghetto on Scot.
Kara stood a few yards away from them, cradling Liam. The
nanny looked incredibly afraid.
“Fine!” Cheyenne shouted, and she stalked off in the oppo-
site direction of the rest of their party. Steph trailed after her, running to catch up.
“Where the hell are you going?” Steph panted as she fell in
next to Cheyenne.
“To spend obscene amounts of Scot’s money.” Her icy tone
took Steph by surprise.
“Right on. Mind if I tag along?” she sputtered.
“Sure. Why the hell not?” Cheyenne snapped. Steph led
Cheyenne to the boutique she’d gone to earlier, and the moment
they entered, Cheyenne spoke. “What’s the most expensive thing
in this store?”
The same saleswoman that had helped Steph in broken Por-
tuguese two nights before suddenly spoke English like a duchess.
Steph glared at her, but the saleswoman was too busy fawning
over Cheyenne and her platinum card to notice.
Steph sat outside of the dressing room flipping through old
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issues of Vogue, when she heard a strangled, choking sound and
realized it was Cheyenne sobbing.
“Chey, is everything ok?” It was a ridiculous question, and
Steph actually slapped herself in the forehead for asking it.
“No!” Cheyenne blubbered and after beating on the door for
a couple more minutes, Steph unceremoniously crawled under
the dressing room door. Cheyenne hadn’t even managed to un-
dress. She had her face buried in the corner, sniffling. Steph
walked over and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her
around.
“What in the hell is going on with you and Scot?” Steph
demanded. Cheyenne dissolved into racking sobs.
“I think he’s sleeping with Kara.” Cheyenne yanked the
shirt off over her head and dropped her skirt to the floor. She
tossed a dress worth a few grand onto the floor to get at another one. She yanked it over her head as if it were a Fury t-shirt and not a designer gown.
Steph’s eyes bugged out, and her jaw hit the floor. “I’m sor-
ry. What?”
Cheyenne proceeded to wipe her nose on the gown she was
wearing, and then yank it back off. “I keep catching them off
alone whispering. And he’s always touching her.”
Steph couldn’t imagine it could be true. Scot was one of the
good guys. He worshiped Cheyenne. This all had to be some sort
of mistake. She was about to say as much, but the homicidal look on Cheyenne’s face made her think better of it. “Did you confront him?”
“No. I demanded he fire her, and he refused. He defended
her and said she was a ‘really good nanny’.”
“That son of a…” Steph spat, and she flopped down on the
bench in the dressing room.
“You know, I hate all of this shit.” Cheyenne reached down
and held up a gold, glittery clutch. “This is the only thing in this store I like. I’m buying this, and we’re getting a liquid lunch.”
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“You need to buy the one you used as a tissue.”
Thirty minutes later, Cheyenne had drained her second mo-
jito, and Steph was lost in thought as she looked out over the
square. Scot had always been enamored with Cheyenne, and
Steph couldn’t believe it was all some sort of an act. The wait-
ress produced ano
ther drink for Cheyenne, who chugged it.
Steph pushed her food around on her plate, and Cheyenne didn’t
even bother to pick up her fork.
“We should just head back to Maravilha. You can hang out
in my room until the luau.”
Cheyenne shook her head. “I can’t guarantee I won’t attack
Kara.”
“I’ll switch rooms with Pilar.” Steph was referring to the
lone bridesmaid Saffron always referred to as “fat.” Cheyenne
shrugged and threw a wad of cash onto the table.
When they returned to the square to catch their ride, the on-
ly members of their group present just happened to be Phillip
and Scot. They were sitting on a bench near the fountain, seem-
ingly deep in conversation. Scot was holding Liam, who was fast
asleep.
“Great.” Cheyenne huffed, as both men looked in their di-
rection. Steph tried to stifle it, but she laughed out loud. Cheyenne glared her down, and she quit immediately.
Steph found it impossible not to look in Phillip’s direction.
He sat unmoving, watching her. When they made eye contact, he
stood and took a step in their direction. Cheyenne stormed past
Steph, nearly knocking her down on her way over to Scot. She
took Liam from him without a word. The shocked look on Phil-
lip’s face was nothing compared to the devastated look Scot
wore. Steph wanted to shake Cheyenne, but after all the times
Cheyenne had put up with her episodes, she deserved nothing
short of Steph’s unwavering support.
As she turned to follow Cheyenne toward the street, Phillip
mouthed something to her. She frowned and squinted at him,
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
unable to read his lips. As she mouthed “what?” back at him, an
ear piercing whistle near her ear caused her to jump. Cheyenne
waved her free hand in the air, and a taxi appeared on the street beside them. Cheyenne hopped in, and Steph scrambled in after
her. Through the taxi window, she saw Scot throw his hands up
and exclaim something to Phillip, who simply nodded and
stuffed his hands in his pockets. Cheyenne tossed some cash at
the driver, and Steph was forced to try out her Portuguese as she told the driver which pousada was theirs. She glanced at Cheyenne, who seemed to cling to Liam for dear life. Steph reached
over and stroked Liam’s hair. Cheyenne had tears oozing out
from underneath her sunglasses. Steph hoped there was a rational explanation for all of this. Tonight at the luau, she intended to corner Scot and get some answers.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cheyenne hugged Yara’s mom and tried to blink away
grateful tears. Yara’s jovial parents had been offering to keep an eye on Liam since they’d laid eyes on him their first day on the island. Cheyenne didn’t want Kara anywhere near her family and
practically kissed Yara’s dad when he mentioned that they
weren’t going to the luau. Liam splashed happily in the pool and virtually ignored Cheyenne as she waved goodbye.
If Scot was going to toss her aside for some young girl, so
be it. She planned to go out, get drunk, and dance the night
away. She’d dressed up for the occasion, wearing her skimpiest
halter dress and strappy sandals that she was sure would give her a broken ankle by the end of the night. Steph refused to change
her clothes and muttered something like “you’re lucky I’m
brushing my teeth and hair tonight.”
Earlier that afternoon, Scot had been banging on the door of
Steph’s old room for about thirty minutes. Luckily the brides-
maids had been at the spa, and Liam was still asleep. Cheyenne
was convinced that the hours on the plane with Bret had trained
her son to sleep through a hurricane. Once Scot finally gave up
and left, Cheyenne noticed Steph seemed edgy.
“Cheyenne, don’t you think maybe—” Steph began, but
Cheyenne cut her off.
“I know what I saw.”
Steph ran an exasperated hand through her hair.
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
“Maybe you should brush your hair again.” Cheyenne rec-
ommended.
Steph’s eyebrow twitched. “Maybe you should confront
your husband.
“Maybe you should have told Phillip he was a daddy.”
Cheyenne stood up.
Steph folded her arms. “Maybe you should bite my ass.”
They both glared at each other for a moment, then burst out
laughing simultaneously.
“Yeah, we pretty much suck at life in general.” Steph ran a
hairbrush through her wild mane and practically killed Cheyenne
with a cloud of insect repellent.
“That’s a scent that’ll get you laid.” Cheyenne joked.
“That’s the last thing on my mind, Chey,” Steph murmured,
and their light mood dissipated.
They rode alone to the luau and saw the largest crowd
they’d seen anywhere since they’d been on the island. One third
of the beach was packed with people migrating around two large
bonfires. Cheyenne immediately started toward the bar, and
Steph scanned the crowd for familiar faces. The only person she
recognized was one of the bridesmaids who wandered away
from the crowd hand in hand with a man Steph had never seen
before.
Her satellite phone rang. Stephanie dug through her purse
and held it up. By the light of the nearby tiki torch, she saw it was Christopher. She answered immediately.
“Hello?” she said loudly, covering her ear in an attempt to
block out the sound of the enthusiastic crowd.
“Steph? Where the hell… like you’re…a concert,” she
heard Christopher stutter his words sporadically.
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“Chris? You’re cutting out!” she exclaimed and tried to
move a few feet over for better reception. When she heard noth-
ing more, she looked at the phone and saw the call had dropped.
Frustrated, she tried to call him back, and her call failed to connect. She blew her bangs out of her face and stuffed the phone
back into her purse.
Steph hesitated, nervous to leave Cheyenne alone in such a
large crowd. If they were separated, there was a good chance
she’d have to spend the rest of the night looking for her. Chey-
enne’s current state of mind was somewhat dangerous based on
past experience. With a determined exhale, she made her way
toward the water, continuing her search for Scot. She needed to
confront him and find out what the hell was really going on,
since she didn’t buy any of Cheyenne’s theories.
She noticed a rowdy gathering near one of the bonfires and
moved closer to investigate. As she grew near, she realized Phillip, Bret, and Nathan were allowing a growing group of fans to
take pictures with them. She backed away as she heard a couple
of the members of Bret’s ever-present security detail whisper, “I think we’re going to need more men.”
Steph worked her away around the back of the crowd in an
effort to go unnoticed. Phillip, who was a notorious camera hog, hung back as Nathan and Bret mugged for every cell phone and
camera that pointed in their direction. Steph snapped a couple of shots, and her flash cau
sed a few heads to turn her way, including Phillip’s. Phillip started to push past several fans, who clung to him and pulled at his clothes. When Nathan called Steph’s
name and waved to her, several of the females nearby murmured
and pointed to her. Remembering her recent feel-good experi-
ences with “the Furies,” she promptly left to find Cheyenne. It
was a relief to have that part of her private life behind her.
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Cheyenne looked up at the thatched roof of the tiki hut and
then took a sip of her second drink. She turned and leaned her
elbows on the bar, her eyes panning over the massive crowd. She
was torn; part of her wanted to see Scot, and the other part
dreaded it. Her eyes landed on Kara, who had two drinks in her
hands and appeared to be walking purposely in the direction of
the water. Cheyenne pushed off the bar and tried to follow her,
bumping into several people along the way. She came out from
under the tiki hut as she continued to fight her way through the crowd. Her heels immediately sank into the sand.
She downed the remainder of her drink and tried to remove
her shoes. As she did, she thought about Scot helping her take
off her shoes the first night they were together. She’d been tipsy then, falling on top of him in the hotel hallway. This memory
normally made her smile, but tonight it was like rock salt in a
fresh wound.
She half-emptied her plastic cup and continued down the
bank toward the water. Just when she thought she’d lost her, she heard Kara’s familiar giggle. It froze her in place. Cheyenne
slowly turned in the direction of the sound and watched Kara
hand one of the drinks to Scot. He was smiling that centerfold
smile of his, and Cheyenne felt like all of her nightmares had
come true.
Unable to see through her blinding anger, she hurled her
cup at Kara, but missed and hit Scot in the shoulder. Beer
sloshed all over both of them.
“Bloody hell!” Scot exclaimed and glanced down at his
shirt. He looked at her, his face a mask of confusion. Kara
gasped in horror, and Cheyenne wanted to claw her eyes out, but
she was too overwhelmed to move. Her hands were clasped in
fists at her sides.
“Sorry to interrupt your good time,” Cheyenne hissed
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