by Lush, Tamara
So we can be as loud as we want. Because I’m feeling dramatic, I decide to take the stairs instead of the elevator.
“Oof,” I grunt, as I smack my bad foot into the first step. “Crap.”
Max runs up to my side as I’m climbing haltingly up the stairs. “I’m not using you.”
“Whatever,” I mutter.
“Want me to carry you?”
“No. I’m capable of moving. Don’t do me any favors.”
I shamble down the hall to my suite. Once I dig out my card key, I turn to Max with a sigh.
“Look. It’s been wonderful, our time together.”
“What? Are you breaking up with me? Lauren, what the hell is going on?”
“I think our relationship’s run its course.” I’m trying to hold in my tears until I get inside, but his beautiful blue eyes look so anguished my heart thrashes against my chest.
“It has?” He looks around wildly.
“I never expected having a relationship when I came to Paradise Beach. All I wanted was to get Kate the hell away from Damien. When I first heard about them, I was like you. I thought it was too soon. Well, maybe they’ve showed me something real can happen in a short period of time.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not making sense. Are you about to get your period?”
I let out a strangled scream. “Why do all men say that when women are angry? I hate that. No, I’m not getting my period.”
He holds his hands up. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Just asking. I feel like things are spiraling out of control. You’re babbling about Kate and Damien. You had three shots and a couple glasses of wine at my parents’ house. I’m sure you’re feeling unsettled because of that. You normally don’t drink this much, so let’s get inside, and we can cuddle on the bed—”
I wave the card key in the air. “Christ, Max. Sex shouldn’t be our default.”
“I didn’t think it was.” His voice suddenly has a sharp tone.
The look I give him could pulverize granite. “Kate was supposed to travel to Dubai with me. Supposed to live with me in Europe. And I came to Paradise because I didn’t want her getting married. It’s not like she ever wanted to be a bride. She and Damien didn’t even have a real relationship. Well, not at first. And it’s the only reason why Kate and I haven’t left, because she actually fell in love with your brother. And I also…never mind. It’s all so complicated and not worth telling you about.” I slump against the door.
Telling him how I feel would be the worst thing I could do now.
“I’m so fucking lost.” He scrubs his hand over his face. “I thought you stayed for me. And I’m trying to get over how Kate and Damien’s relationship happened so fast. They care for each other, I guess.”
“No, they love each other. Now they do.” I roll my eyes and continue to babble. “But he initially proposed because she didn’t have health insurance. That’s how it all started. Their relationship was initially a hookup, not anything real. And I’m still here because Kate doesn’t want to leave. Yet.”
The shock on his face sobers me up. Oh, shit. I shouldn’t have told him Kate’s secret. I’m dimly aware I’m probably ruining everything between Max and me with this fight and with Kate. But I don’t care. I’m lashing out and scorching the earth.
“Anyway. I wasn’t planning on being here as long as I have. Or getting involved with anyone. You came along and charmed my panties off. But the things you’re asking me to do with your resort feel a little more like work than a request from someone who cares for me. So I’m going back to my real, fake life being a social media influencer. At least the other brands will pay me and not exploit my emotions like you have.”
I launch myself off the door and nearly fall on my face. Max catches me, wrapping his hands tightly around my shoulders.
“You knew all along Damien and Kate were marrying because of health insurance?”
I nod.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
My shoulders lift into a shrug. “Wasn’t my business. Probably shouldn’t have said anything now. I fucked up. Because I’m a bad friend. And obviously not girlfriend material. You need to move on and find someone more perfect. Someone you can take things nice and slow with and have a socially acceptable relationship on your rigid timetable. Or maybe no one at all, since you’re so focused on work.”
“What else have you not told me? Do you have any other secrets?” The look in his eyes is a mixture of fear and rage.
“That’s all you can ask at this point?” Now I’m sobbing, sloppy crying even. I manage to wrench myself out of Max’s arms and unlock my suite.
“Later,” I whisper, shutting the door in his face.
“How did things go so wrong so quick?” Max yells, then lets out a string of swear words.
I fling myself on the bed, asking the same thing.
* * *
Some time later, I blink my eyes open. The bedside lamp is still on, and I shield my face from the harsh light. The beginnings of a hangover are creeping into my skull, and I’m hazily aware of the awful, drunkenly confusing fight with Max. I reach for my phone, and my half-drunk ass texts Kate. I probably shouldn’t burden her with my problems, given her health issues, her mom’s cancer, and the fact she misses Damien something fierce.
But I have no one else to turn to.
Hey. U up?
WTF! It’s two a.m. What’s going on?
I figured you’d be up since you worked
I did but came home and crashed. Where are you?
The hotel
Didn’t you have dinner with Max’s parents tonight? How did it go?
My stomach bubbles and churns. Telling Max about Kate and Damien’s secret was awful of me. The limoncello was a terrible idea. It’s sitting in my stomach, a sugary, citrus-flavored prelude to throwing up.
I’m leaving
What? Where are you going?
I know I told you the other day I’d stay on Paradise Beach for a while. And that I was going to stay because you’re here and so Max and I can explore our relationship.
Correct
But tonight Max did something awful. So I’m going to leave. I’m sorry we won’t get a chance to say goodbye.
I’m now sobbing and hobble to the bathroom because the syrupy limoncello is mixing with the bile in my throat. I hope I can make it to the toilet in time so I can purge it out of my body.
And then I’m going to pack.
Twenty-Three
Max
I shove open the heavy wooden door to my parents’ house.
“Ma,” I holler.
“In here.”
Cinnamon hangs heavy in the air, and my stomach rumbles.
I groan out loud, wiping my feet on the mat. If she’s making her special cinnamon cookies, my day just got a thousand percent better. Shit, my entire week will improve with those cookies.
Which goes to show how dismal the past several days have been, if cookies are the only thing that brightens my day. Ever since Lauren up and left in the middle of the night, I’ve been in a foul mood. A dark place, darker even than when my ex left for Australia.
That’s how much Lauren worked her way into my psyche.
During the day I’ve snarled at everyone who works in the hotel, and in the evening, I’ve sat on my balcony and drank too many beers. In the small hours of the night, I toss and turn, hoping Lauren’s naked, soft body is near. But it’s not, and a mixture of rage and despair keeps me from sleeping.
Each morning I wake up with a faint, yet persistently annoying, hangover.
It’s also rained non-stop for days, making everything and everyone damp and moody.
Since it’s Paradise Beach, I don’t have to dress up in business attire, thank Christ. Still, my sneakers are soaked, and I toe-heel them off in the foyer while shrugging the wet raincoat away from my shoulders.
“In where?” Maybe the prospect of cinnamon cookies won’t even change my rotten tone.
“The ki
tchen.”
I sigh and pad down the hall.
“Hey, Ma, here’s the mail from the resort—” I stop in the middle of the kitchen when I see the woman sitting at the island counter.
Kate.
Lauren’s best friend.
Great. Exactly what I need. Another reminder of the woman who walked away from me.
For reasons I still don’t comprehend.
Kate glances at me with big eyes and presses her fingers to her mouth. Her cheeks are pouched, like a squirrel, and I realize it’s because she’s stuffing her face with Ma’s cookies. Which are sitting on a rack on the counter, calling my name.
“Oh, hey.” I slap the stack of mail onto the wooden table in the corner.
Ma turns from the stove, slipping an oven mitt off her right hand.
“Hi, dear. Thank you for bringing those. The hospital’s been sending my bills there instead of to the house.”
“So you said.” I step over to Ma and give her a kiss on the cheek.
Kate swallows and wipes her mouth. “Hi, Max. How’s it going?”
I inhale and lift my eyebrows, but don’t say a word.
“That good, hunh?”
Our eyes meet. Weird, she doesn’t seem happy, either. Then I remember what Lauren said about Kate and Damien’s relationship being fake, and I wonder why the hell she’s even in Ma’s kitchen. Yeah, I know Lauren said they’re truly in love, but it doesn’t sit well with me. None of it does.
Because I’m pissed at the world.
“It’s been a weird few weeks.”
“No kidding,” Kate murmurs.
“Dear,” Ma says, slipping her hand around my forearm. “I made your favorite.”
When Ma wants someone to feel better, she trots out the cinnamon cookies. They’re a recipe from her abuela in San Juan. Ma must be worried about how Kate’s taking Damien’s absence. Or she’s concerned about me.
“Have some, dear. And I’m glad you came. I was hoping you’d take Chunky back to the resort with you today.”
I reach for two cookies, stuffing one into my mouth. “Hell, Ma. No way,” I say, while chewing. Normally, I’m not this much of a brute, and especially not around guests. But hey, Kate’s family, right?
Sort of. I eye her warily.
“Dear, I’m sorry, but I need to run a few things over to the island’s historical society.”
“Then take him with you.” I shove another warm cookie into my mouth.
“I’ll be there all day, and the director’s allergic to dogs.”
“She’s allergic to farting dogs.”
Kate grins. “I can take him to the bar. It’s no problem. Nobody there cares if he farts.”
“See? Crisis averted.” I pull open the fridge and grab the carton of milk. As I’m about to take a swig, Ma cries out.
“Max Hastings. I taught you better than that.” Scowling, she opens a cabinet and takes out a glass.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes, grabbing it from her.
“Thirty-five years old and he still acts like a teenager.” Ma says to Kate, who giggles and shrugs.
It annoys me how Kate’s trying to insert herself into my family. Or maybe it annoys me she’s friends with Lauren and probably knows where she is.
“I don’t see why Chunky can’t stay here alone for a few hours.”
Ma shakes her head.
“He’s Tate’s dog. Tate’s responsibility,” I grumble while gesturing with my glass at the dog.
I don’t mind Chunky. He’s a good boy. But everything’s on my last nerve, including fat pugs sleeping on orthopedic dog beds in the corner of my parents’ kitchen.
“Tate’s in court,” Ma says in a brisk voice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get a move on. Kate, you can stay as long as you want. Please tell your mother thanks for the books. And I’ll see her at book club on Thursday.”
“Will do. Thanks for the cinnamon cookies, Ginger. They’re delicious.”
Kate and Mom hug, and I watch, scowling.
“Do you need Chunky’s stroller?” Ma asks Kate.
“Jesus Christ, he’s got a stroller now?” I grimace. “That dog needs to walk.”
They ignore me, and Ma tells Kate the stroller’s in the garage. “Max, can help you get it? Oh, God. I’m so late. Bye, you two.”
Mom flits out, her long, pink skirt and silver hair fluttering in the air.
Kate reaches for another cookie. “Chunky doesn’t like to walk in the rain. He hates when his belly drags in the puddles.”
I roll my eyes and finish my milk.
“It’s no bother, me taking him to the bar. Everyone loves him.”
“Glad you’re ingratiating yourself into my family,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?” She narrows her eyes. “What did you say?”
“Lauren told me about you and my brother. How you two started. He’s got a real heart of gold, and you seem to be the beneficiary.” I immediately feel shitty for saying anything. It’s not that I dislike her. Not in the least. I despise everyone right now.
Okay, maybe I’m being a bit harsher on Kate because of her connection to Lauren.
“I don’t know what you’re implying or what you think. I love your brother. I miss him with every molecule in my body. Every day since he’s left, I’ve been physically ill with worry.” She slaps her hand on the marble island countertop. There’s a fierce glint in her eye, like she might pick up the nearby spatula and smack me. “And it’s unfair of you to judge our relationship.”
I run a hand through my damp hair while groaning. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I’m in a shitty mood.”
“Because of Lauren.”
I nod miserably.
Kate inspects a cookie, turning it over. “She’s a difficult one, all right.”
“I don’t understand what I did to upset her. Or why she left so abruptly.”
Kate takes a dainty bite of the cookie.
“I mean, why didn’t she talk it out with me? Why did she run away?”
“That’s what she does. She gets upset, angry, sad, overwhelmed. And she runs. She did it in Chicago.”
I lean forward on the counter. “But what did I do?”
Kate shrugs. “From what I can tell, you asked her to help you with the resort’s social media.”
“Yeah. I did.”
“Lauren felt like you were using her. I wondered that myself. Were you?”
“Hell no.”
“See, you don’t like it when the tables are turned and people make assumptions, do you?”
Now I feel even worse than when I walked in. “I apologize.”
Kate smirks. “And maybe she thought you were Mr. Judgey McJudgerpants when it came to relationships.”
I rear back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve made your displeasure with Damien and me pretty damned clear. Every chance you get, you comment on how quickly we got married, how fast everything happened.”
“True.” A ball of shame has suddenly replaced the cookies in my stomach.
“You don’t see the hypocrisy in that?”
“I do, I guess. But is that why Lauren was mad? I don’t think so.”
“It might have been part of it. A subtle part. I think asking her to help with social media had more to do with it.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I asked her to help with the resort’s social media because I thought it was something she loved to do. See? I’m so damned confused.” The ball of shame migrates to my chest. Me, using Lauren? Never.
“I think she’s come to understand the dark side of being a social media influencer. Lauren lives a life of great privilege. She gets into the best clubs and restaurants and parties. Fashion designers give her free clothes. She travels for free. But she has no real connection to anything or anyone. Or any place. And I think she finally understood how it’s a superficial lifestyle. There are a lot of benefits, but loneliness is the biggest side effect.”
“I can s
ee that.” I rub the back of my neck. “What does this have to do with me, though? With us?”
“You asked for her help on a bad night. She told me her dad texted her for money that same night. He’s always been a trigger for her. It was why she left the States to begin with, to get away from feeling used by her parents.”
I shut my eyes. “Oh, hell. I didn’t know.”
“Lauren had a good job in Chicago. She wasn’t always a nomad. She was an assistant to a successful portrait photographer, I don’t know if she told you.”
I shake my head and open my eyes. “No. She mentioned taking photos and that her Instagram took off, whatever that means.”
“Lauren was making a decent living in Chicago at the studio. And making a name for herself on social media. But her mom’s addiction kicked into overdrive for the second time since college. Her dad became overwhelmed, and they hounded her for money. It was relentless. Right about that time, all these brands started to follow her and wanted to work with her. So she gave up everything she had in Chicago. She ran because she couldn’t deal. I can’t blame her, really. She didn’t know how to handle her anger.”
Kate’s shoulders droop. “I lost my best friend. And when she came here and was forced to stop for a little while because of her ankle, I thought I’d gotten her back. I wanted her to stay.”
“Did you tell her that?”
She shrugs. “Sort of. Yeah. Maybe not in those words. I thought she’d finally realized what she needed. Stability. Friends. Family. And I figured she’d found that in you. In all of us.”
“Jesus. I didn’t imagine she’d think I was using her. To me, we were more like a team.” While it doesn’t excuse her slipping out in the middle of the night, it also makes me feel like shit. I never imagined I was hurting her by asking her to help me. “I guess I could’ve explained my feelings better. Especially after she said she would stay.”
“When you told her you were taking over the resort, I’m sure she thought your next question would be something like, want to move in together?”