by Havana Scott
Life moves on.
If I could take the new identity of Sorendi Isle and somehow package it for clients, it was this—we didn’t sell resort accommodations, we sold new life chapters. Start again at Surrender Isle became our slogan, and because we were all about practicing what we preached, Paris and I were the first to try it out.
Chapter 25
They say you don’t have to see the whole staircase to take the first step.
In my case, I was blind to even the first step if it hadn’t been for Grace. Eighteen months on Sorendi Isle had opened my eyes to an entirely new world. Not everyone had the luxury of moving to an ocean paradise and having the starry skies all to themselves every night, but I was lucky, I wasn’t going to lie.
And it all happened because of a contest I almost didn’t enter.
From now on, if I ever found myself at a fork in the road, wondering whether to go left or right, the direction wouldn’t matter. Moving one way or another was what made the difference. Take the step. Hold the hand. Say yes. Do whatever you had to do, but keep moving, keep learning. What was there to be afraid of? Life?
Please.
Risks opened doors. Risks made things possible. Risks showed you the people meant to be in your life. I didn’t want a life of what ifs. I wanted a life of oh, wells and hell yeahs! And because Grace had taught me that, she was here with me now, straightening out my veil and handing me my bouquet of wild orchids and one bird of paradise. “You look absolutely stunning, babe.” She fanned at her eyes rimming with tears.
“Don’t cry. Do not cry, Grace. You’ll ruin your makeup. And mine.”
“I’m not, I’m not, I’m fine. See? I just won’t look at you. I’ll look at this wall made of bamboo, because of course your wall would be made of bamboo.” She looked gorgeous as well in a light blue gossamer silk dress and her dark hair swept over one shoulder, fanning her eyes with her hand.
“Is it bamboo? I never noticed that.”
“Right. Because you’re too busy staring at the ocean and at your hot fiancé. So, where do people from Sorendi Isle go on their honeymoon? Dayton, Ohio? Smalltown, USA? I mean, you may as well not go anywhere. You’re already in paradise. Don’t mind me, I’m not bitter.”
“He hasn’t told me where we’re going, actually. I kind of like it that way.”
“Full of surprises, that Tristan.”
“Yes, he is.” I had five minutes left, so I checked my email for the last time before our small ceremony was to begin. From here, I could see everyone gathered down the beach, facing the sun beginning to make its way down the glowing sky. I was expecting a reply from someone, so I was sort of glued to my laptop these days.
Marc Cleo, the editor at Big 6 Publishing Company who’d asked to see the full manuscript of The Gates of Lahore, had written back to my agent, Barbara Harmon, who had forwarded the email to me. We loved this! Marc had written. Thanks for sending it! Would Paris be willing to do a simple revision based on some of our suggestions?
Apparently, this was standard practice by many publishers, as I’d learned recently. You rewrite some of your novel to suit an editor’s tastes, and then with any luck, of which I’d had plenty, they acquired your novel and paid you an advance.
Yes! I replied to Barbara’s question, Will you do this? I think it’s a great opportunity for you. Hell, yes. I didn’t think too much about what things would involve anymore. I simply said yes first, then thought about it later. “That editor I told you about is interested in my book,” I told Grace, tapping out the rest of my reply on my phone.
“That’s great! Damn, Paris. Rub some of that luck on me, will you? Now, put down your phone. There’s nothing more unsexy than a picture-perfect bride messing on her electronic device.”
“Just a second…there.” I finished the last text I’d be sending for a while and tossed the phone onto my bed.
“Alright, Mrs. Giovanetti, it’s time,” she said, taking my hand.
“Grace, I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“I love you, Paris.” Her delicate fingers lightly grazed my cheek. “You’re the sister I never had. Now, let’s get this over with before I break down in a fit of jealousy. Come on.” We walked out of my villa onto the wooden walkway, the one that led me here almost two years ago, and I paused, overcome with a sense of déja-vú.
Not too long ago, I’d walked down this path into this villa and broke down crying at the mess my life had become, never imagining for one second that the resort “employee” who’d delivered my groceries would turn out to be my future husband. Not too long ago, I wasn’t even sure I could finish my novel, but I’d pushed through the fear, and here I was. By writing travel copy over and selling the Surrender Isle travel book this last year, I’d paid my rent here fair and square, so I couldn’t even say that Tristan had made it happen for me. I’d worked hard for this.
“You okay?” Grace asked.
“Yes. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About how much has changed.”
“Indeed.”
We walked onto the sands barefoot, because who needed shoes when you were getting married on the beach of Paradise Bay? From here, I could see the small group gathered—Tristan’s family, his mom, siblings, a few friends from college, Simon, Reece, Natasha, Michel, and the whole Sorendi crew. My mom was there too, giving me a small wave from her seat up front, lifting a tissue to her nose every few seconds.
I didn’t have many people from my side.
Grace, Mrs. Porter…Cujo opted to curl up on his bed and ignore the festivities.
And then I saw him—
He stood from the last row of seats, watching me come out. Though we’d kept in touch over the last year, I hadn’t seen him since that day in the hospital. He’d moved to Chicago and met a new girl. That must’ve been her in the seat next to his. Pretty, red-haired, and man, did I wish her a world of patience. But good for her, and good for him. Tall, handsome as ever in khakis, wearing a white shirt, Ben always did clean up nicely.
“Grace? What’s he doing here?” I murmured.
“Relax. He’s not here to cause you trouble. He’s here to do his job.”
“Job?” A vortex of emotions swirled inside my chest. Would he be in pain seeing me this way? Dressed in white all over again? But the girl…his easygoing smile…maybe not. He looked…peaceful.
Ben walked over to where we stood. “Hey, Sugar Bear.”
“Ben. What are you…I’m like…I…”
“Surprised?” He shook his hands dramatically. He was clean-shaven looking a thousand gagillion times better than that fateful day. “Yeah, this whole thing was a covert operation, but I’m here for you if you need me.”
Need him? I was still reeling from the first sight of him in over a year. My heart swelled with love for the man who used to be my best friend. Maybe he still could be. Maybe with enough time? So much I didn’t know yet.
Grace helped me understand. “He’s going to give you away, babe. Since your dad’s not here anymore. Is that okay?”
Ben Walker, my ex-husband. Giving me away. To be married. To Tristan. “Like the passing of the torch?” I laughed and nearly cried at the same time. Way behind everyone, at the front of the scene, I spotted Tristan waiting in rolled-up white pants and white shirt, feet apart. He nodded. Of course it was fine with him. Hell, he’d set the whole thing up. And if it was okay with him and okay with Ben, then it was okay with me.
Thankfully, Ben chuckled his signature low laugh. “In the Olympics of the Crazy, I guess.” A wave rushed in on us, and we jumped in time before it hit our feet.
“That would be us, then. Let’s do this.”
Grace kissed my cheek and ran off to wait for me at her spot for Maid of Honor. I looped my arm around Ben’s and marveled at this most surreal moment in my life—my ex-husband giving me away to my new. I began walking down the sandy aisle, taking in the faces of our friends—Natasha, Michel, Noah, Reece, everyone.
Life was funny this way. Somewhere in the universe above, God or whoever, was laughing her ass off at this twist of fate.
When we reached the beautiful, simple arch covered in orchids, Ben handed me off to Tristan, and I had to say, my husband looked fine! Damn! Tristan couldn’t have looked more gorgeous if he’d been snipped from my imagination in a descriptive contest essay. The two shook hands and did the half man hug thing. Ben kissed my cheek with a smile full of forever love, the kind that never died, only morphed into something new. “Take care, Sugar Bear.”
“You too, Ben.” I patted his arm, and he headed back to his seat.
What followed was the easiest thing I’d ever done in my life—marrying the man I adored. One fifteen-minute ceremony later, I was saying yes to Tristan Giovanetti, the father of our little island baby brewing inside of me. Nobody knew yet but him, and yes, we’d planned it. When he kissed me, three hearts grew brighter.
After an evening of steel drums, bobbing lanterns, magical dancing lights, and a miasma of tropical drinks galore for our guests, it was time to sail. Our friends and family followed us out to the marina, where Tristan carried us onto the newly renamed Booty Seized.
I watched my husband’s face, as he stared out at the open sea, grow wild with wonder. “It’s a great day to be a pirate?” I asked.
Tristan beamed, pulling me into the strong arms I adored, his hand on my barely-there bump. “And to finally have a first mate.” Locked in a kiss, I marveled at the way our bodies fit together so perfectly. On the dock, the men shot off confetti cannons of colored particles into the air. We pushed off toward the sunset, waving to all who snapped photos and cheered, drunk off of Bella’s rum concoctions.
The setting sun touched down over Surrender Isle, illuminating all of Paradise Bay in a fiery tangerine light ending in a flash of green. These things—these funny things called dreams—they could happen. I never would’ve believed it the day my essay was chosen as the winner, but it would become true. Trust me. Every word of it.
Acknowledgements
This has been a long time coming. After publishing YA books for 15 years, I knew it was time for something new. I've always loved romance novels, but like Paris, it took me a long time to take a risk. And like Paris had Grace and Tristan, I had help too. So I'd like to thank my best friend, Curtis Sponsler, for encouraging, inspiring, and helping me late into the night when he had his own work to do. He's the embodiment of generosity, friendship, and love. I'd also like to thank authors Virna DePaul and Michelle St. James for encouraging me to fly on my own and showing me the way. Finally, it wouldn't be acknowledgements without thanking my amazing boys for their patience while Mom works and my mother for her excellent critiques. Also for letting me steal her copy of The Thorn Birds when I was only twelve, the first romance novel I ever loved, and not taking it away from me. Love and thank you all.
Author Links
Facebook | HavanaScottBooks.com | Twitter
Contact Havana Scott | GabyTriana.com
Coming Soon
Surrender Isle | Resort 2
Hideaway Cove
by Havana Scott
Wake the Hollow
by Gaby Triana
Available August 2nd from Entangled Teen
Thank you for reading.
Don’t forget to leave a review!
Much love, Havana
Table of Contents
Copyright
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Acknowledgements
Author Links
Coming Soon
Love