by Kayla Perrin
Which Richelle had no plans to do until the colleague—whose birthday she’d been attending at the restaurant—had encouraged her. What did she have to lose?
And from their first date, Richelle had known. So had Roy. The two became a couple after that night. Roy hadn’t told her until their third date that he was a recently retired NFL player. The fact that Richelle had been clueless as to who he was had attracted Roy to her even more. It had been clear to him that she wasn’t after his fame or fortune.
“Vern was a jerk,” Melanie said. “But thank God he did what he did. Talk about a silver lining, you hit the jackpot, Richelle. The love jackpot. Roy’s the real deal.”
“How did I get so lucky?” Richelle asked. “I keep pinching myself. A part of me wonders if this is all a dream, but everything that man does shows me he adores me.”
“He’s the one,” Melanie said.
“God, can you imagine if I’d married Vern?” Richelle shuddered.
“Sometimes something beautiful comes out of the ashes of disaster,” Melanie advised.
A smiling woman approached them with a tray of frothy drinks, garnished with a slice of papaya. Melanie and Richelle took them, and after thanking the woman, sipped them at the same time.
“Oh, wow,” Richelle said. “This is delicious.”
“I don’t think I want to leave,” Melanie chimed.
Richelle took another sip, and then said, “There’s only one thing that would make me happier than I already am.” Richelle ran a hand over Melanie’s shoulder. “Knowing that you’ve found the guy you’re destined to be with.”
Melanie waved a dismissive hand. “As I said, this trip isn’t about me. Soon, you are going to be marrying the man you are meant to be with. One I feel confident will cherish you for a lifetime. I’m thrilled for you. And here he comes now.”
Richelle turned, and her eyes lit up. “Room keys,” he said, presenting them to Richelle. “For you and Melanie.”
“Who are you rooming with?” Melanie asked.
“I’m with Edward until the big day. We’re all staying in the bungalows on the water, or, as they say here, the bures.”
Melanie looked toward their rooms in the distance and sighed. It was a far walk. And she was desperate to hit the bed.
“And don’t worry. Hotel staff is coming with golf carts to take us there. All we have to do is head to the edge of the path outside the lobby.”
Relief washing over her, Melanie looked at Richelle. “He’s a keeper.”
Richelle grinned. “No doubt.”
* * *
A short while later, Melanie and Richelle were in their room, where the sense of awe continued. The room was elegantly decorated, and boasted a large bathroom with a spa tub that was situated so that you could see the ocean while you bathed. The words Bula and Welcome were written in colorful rose petals on the king bed they would be sharing. There was a living room area with a sofa and a coffee table. And outside, there was a large patio with lounge chairs and steps literally walking down into the ocean.
But the focal point of the room was the floor. Amid the wood, there were two giant panes of glass enabling people to see into the water below the room.
“Oh, my God, I could stay in this room forever,” Richelle said, sighing happily as she sank into the sofa before one of the panes of glass. “Seriously—there are fish beneath our feet. Look!”
Melanie quickly hurried over to look, and sure enough, a school of fish was swimming among the coral beneath the room. “Breathtaking.” Then she faced Richelle. “As I remember telling you, sure the Caribbean is lovely, but why not do something different for your wedding? You only do it once, after all.”
Richelle grabbed a cushion off the sofa and hurled it at her. “You told me to do something different? Yeah, right! Remember your Jamaica solution? I’m lucky I even got you here!”
The two friends shared a laugh. “What I’m really saying,” Melanie began, “is that you made the best choice. We came halfway across the world, and it took forever, and I’m totally a nervous traveler, but this is absolutely the best spot for your wedding.”
“Mel, you’re going to make me cry.”
Melanie sat beside Richelle and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Richelle. I really am.”
“Thanks, Mel. And thank you for being here. You know I couldn’t get married without you.”
“And you know there’s nowhere else I would rather be right now. If I had to walk over hot coals to get here, I would.”
“Now I’m crying,” Richelle announced, and raised her hands to wipe her tears.
Melanie hugged her. “I love you, Richelle. You’re the sister I never had.”
“I love you, too. And I know you don’t want me to say it, but I don’t want you to give up on love. You’re going to have your own happy ending. And I still think Lawren—”
“Eh, eh,” Melanie chastised as she pulled apart from Richelle. “No talk about him, remember?” Melanie got to her feet. “Now as beautiful as this room is, I have got to get some sleep if I’m going to enjoy any part of this day. Don’t wake me up for at least four hours.”
Chapter 2
It was shortly after noon when Melanie woke up. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming into the room. Then, upon coming alert and remembering where she was, she turned to her right to see if Richelle was still asleep.
But Richelle wasn’t there. Instead, there was a slip of paper beside her.
I’ll be on the beach at the island bar.
Call for a shuttle. It’s a long walk.
See you soon.
Love, Richelle
Melanie sat up, noticing that their luggage was now in the room.
She got out of bed, showered and dressed, and did as Richelle suggested. The shuttle arrived at her bure within five minutes.
As she rode on the back of the golf cart, she surveyed the resort. Fully awake now, she was even more dazzled by the impressive view of the lush foliage and beach. There were a number of rooms situated among the trees beyond the shore on the beach, which were lovely. But Melanie was glad that she was staying in an over-the-water bure. She could stay in a room on the beach anywhere. How often could she stay in a room that was actually on the water?
“How do you like the resort?” the driver asked.
“What’s not to like?” she countered. It was lovely. She saw people walking along the golden sand or resting on lounge chairs. All couples. This resort catered to adults, and clearly was a choice for men and women in love.
The beach was extensive, and she didn’t see Richelle or Roy on the portion that was visible. The driver continued on to the island bar, which was where they had originally arrived by boat.
She could hear the sounds of a live band before she saw the performers, and as the cart came to a stop, she looked around the small intimate bar with comfy cushioned seats and saw Richelle at the same time that she saw her.
“You’re awake,” Richelle said, rising to greet her.
“I’m awake.” Melanie drew in a deep breath of the fresh island air. “When did you get up?”
“About eleven-thirty. Then I called Roy and woke him up.” She smiled sweetly and rubbed his arm.
“What are you drinking?” Roy asked, looking up at Melanie.
“Is that a piña colada?” Melanie asked, indicating Richelle’s drink.
“Yep.”
“Then I’ll have one of those.”
“You’ll want to see how they make it,” Richelle said. “Fresh pineapple and fresh coconut. And the taste? To die for.”
“I’m sold,” Melanie said. When Roy began to stand, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll go get it.”
“Just tell Manu
eli to add your drink to my tab,” Roy told her.
“Why did you walk here with your purse?” Richelle asked her. “Just charge everything to the room.”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t think of that.”
“Please don’t tell me you have your phone in there,” Richelle said, giving her a knowing look. “No one is going to call you for wardrobe work on a film set this week. And even if they do, you’re taking a break, remember?”
“I can’t even play Angry Birds?” Melanie countered.
“No,” Richelle told her. “Good grief, there’s so much more to do here than be tied to your phone.”
“I was kidding,” Melanie said, though she did have her phone in her purse. Force of habit. “I was only thinking about paying for food and stuff.”
“Put all food and drinks on my tab,” Roy said. “I’m taking care of everything. I will be offended if you don’t.”
“Thanks, Roy,” Melanie said. “For everything. This place is amazing, and I already feel relaxed. Now how about putting off the wedding for a week or two? That way, we can stay in paradise longer.”
“Already working on it,” Richelle said as she took Roy’s hand and smiled at him. “Meet us at the beach once you get your drink. We’re headed down there.”
Warmth filled Melanie’s heart as she watched them stand and walk hand in hand out of the bar. As they strolled contentedly, Roy lifted Richelle’s hand to his lips and kissed it.
Melanie made her way to the bar. “Bula,” she said to the bartender, whose name tag read Manueli.
“Bula. You must be Melanie.”
Melanie’s eyebrows shot up as she sat on a bar stool. “How did you know?”
“Because your friend told me you would be arriving soon. Said to make you an extraspecial drink.”
“Richelle says you make an amazing piña colada.”
“One Likuliku piña colada coming right up.”
Melanie watched him cut slices from a fresh pineapple and put them in the blender, and then chop the top off a green coconut and pour the juice found inside into the blender, as well. He added some sort of cream, followed by a good dose of rum and ice, and then turned on the machine.
After about seven seconds of whirring, the blender came to a stop. Manueli poured the creamy concoction into a tall glass and presented it to Melanie. “Here you go.”
She sipped it. And felt like she had just tasted heaven. “Oh, my goodness. This is delicious! Thank you, Manueli. I’ll be back for more of these.”
Turning on the bar stool, she took another drink of the delicious cocktail and surveyed the area.
And her eyes caught a glimpse of a seriously sexy body. Strong golden brown legs, washboard abs, perfectly sculpted pecs...
An odd sense of realization dawned a moment before her gaze went higher, to the man’s face. Her heart slammed in her chest. And as she dared to look at his face, her eyes bulged in stupefied horror, and the liquid she’d just sipped went down the wrong way.
No! her mind screamed. No. It can’t be possible. There’s no way that could be him!
She coughed, almost violently, trying to clear her windpipe. With the commotion she was making, she knew she was drawing attention to herself.
Which was exactly what she didn’t want, especially if the man she thought she’d just seen was actually not a figment of her imagination.
Perhaps the Fijian heat was getting to her. Obviously, that couldn’t be him.
She turned back to the bar, where Manueli looked at her in alarm. “Are you okay?”
Melanie waved a hand to dismiss his concern. She slapped her chest, hoping to relieve the endless hacking. And as the coughing finally began to subside, she was certain now that the man she’d seen had simply been a look-alike. He had to be. Everyone had them, after all.
For God’s sake, she was in Fiji, not strolling along Wall Street.
Surreptitiously, she glanced to her right once more. And there he was, still standing at the perimeter of the island bar as if frozen to the spot, staring in her direction.
And then she knew.
She saw, at the moment, that he knew, too. The question in his eyes morphed into complete surprise.
Clearly, he had just spent the last few seconds trying to determine if she was truly who she’d appeared to be, just as she had done where he was concerned. And now, there was no longer any doubt.
God help her, it was Lawrence.
The man she should have married nine months ago. The man she had left standing at the altar.
* * *
Lawrence looked in the direction of the coughing woman at the bar, and at first thought that he had to be hallucinating. He was halfway across the world, on one of Fiji’s beautiful islands, a far cry from New York City. He had come here expressly to forget the very woman he feared his eyes now rested on.
She glimpsed in his direction once again, and then he was absolutely certain. The deer-in-the-headlights look on her face made it clear that he wasn’t dreaming. That indeed, Melanie Watts was here in the same bar at the same resort he was staying at.
Of all the islands that made up Fiji, Melanie was actually at the very same one where he was.
Melanie quickly jerked her gaze away from his and shot to her feet, and the purse that was on her lap went flying, spilling the contents onto the sand. Then her hand swung to the side as if in fright, and she knocked over the drink that was on the bar in front of her.
The bartender reacted quickly, grabbing up the glass. Melanie dropped to the ground to collect her strewn items.
Lawrence watched her, intrigued and mortified.
Melanie looked terror stricken. She kept glancing at him as she picked up the contents of her purse, as if she expected him to charge over to her.
And there was no doubt that a part of him wanted to do exactly that. Go over to her and demand the answers to the questions she hadn’t given him after standing him up at the altar. But the other part of him—the part filled with too much pride to belittle himself after she’d made it clear she didn’t care about him—kept him rooted to the spot.
Melanie finished hurriedly putting the items into her purse, not even dusting off the sand first, then threw another nervous glance in his direction, as though she feared he was approaching her at that very second. And that was what got to Lawrence. The idea that she was afraid of him. Even when she had broken his heart, she hadn’t needed to fear him. All he had wanted were answers, and even though she hadn’t given them to him, he hadn’t lost his mind and hounded her. He had simply let her be.
He watched as Melanie rebuffed a hotel worker’s help in getting to her feet. She quickly stood, then turned in the opposite direction from the path where he was standing, and hustled out of the bar area toward the beach.
And that’s when he made the impromptu decision to follow her. He had initially come to the bar to pick up a couple beers for him and his buddy, Shemar, but that would have to wait.
Nine months had passed and, yes, his relationship with Melanie was over. But still, he had to know.
She looked over her shoulder once more as she tried to flee, and her eyes widened when she realized he was coming after her. The reaction irked him. She had known him—known his heart—yet she had let every insecurity come between them and prevent them from getting married. Now, she was looking at him as though she thought he would rush her and throttle her.
Lawrence picked up his pace, jogging. Nearing the water now, Melanie suddenly stopped. She wanted to get away from him, but she wasn’t about to dive into the ocean to make her escape by swimming. Not the Melanie he knew, anyway.
She quickly scanned the area to the left. Endless beach. Then the right. Same thing. He caught up to her in time to hear her whimper.
She took a step to her left, but Lawrenc
e put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Hey,” he said softly. “You’re seriously not even going to say hi to me?”
Turning, Melanie looked up at him, and he could see the trepidation in her eyes.
“For God’s sake, Mel. Why are you looking at me like I’m some sort of crazy stalker? If there’s one thing you knew about me, it was that you didn’t have to be afraid of me. Yet the look on your face would make a person think you’re scared I’ll hurt you.”
To emphasize his point, he looked toward a couple a short distance away. Indeed, both the man and the woman were staring in their direction, clearly a little too curious about Lawrence’s interaction with Melanie.
“Oh,” Melanie said, following his line of sight to the couple in question.
“Yeah,” Lawrence said, unable to hide his irritation. “After everything, I figure the very least you can do is say hello when you see me, not run scared. I don’t deserve to be treated like I’m the one who hurt you.”
There. He’d gotten that off his chest. Because if anyone should be running scared, it was him. Melanie was the one who had trampled all over his heart.
He sure as heck hoped that she hadn’t avoided him because of an unfounded fear that he would become some sort of nutcase. She owed him a conversation, an explanation, and that was all he had wanted. If she’d been able to tell him that she didn’t love him and didn’t want to marry him, as much as it would have hurt, he would have wished her well and moved on.
But she hadn’t told him anything, and that had him stuck emotionally. Unable to truly move on.
“I—I—I’m sorry,” Melanie stuttered. “It’s just—I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I’m here for Richelle’s wedding,” she explained.
“Ah. So Richelle’s getting married again?” Lawrence processed the information. He remembered all too well that it was Richelle’s own failed engagement that had led to Melanie’s doubts about whether or not any marriage could be successful. That and the fact that her father had never been able to stay faithful to her mother.