Amalie wrinkles her nose. “Seriously?”
I laugh. “No. Not seriously. I’m either feeling the bacon and eggs or the omelet.”
“Oooh, those both sound good.” She bites that plush bottom lip. “It’s so hard to decide. I haven’t had bacon in forever, either.” After a few more seconds of mulling, she grabs my forearm. “I have an idea. Why don’t I get the waffle, and you get the bacon and eggs, or the omelet, and we can share?” She withdraws her hand. “Unless you’re worried about germs.”
“I’m not worried about germs unless you plan on licking everything on the plate first.”
She makes a face. It’s so fucking cute. I don’t know how one woman can be so sexy and so sweet at the same time. “Um, no, that’s just gross.”
“I think we’re good then.”
The flight attendant returns with the breakfast cart. Amalie declines the mimosa and opts for coffee and water. We eat off each other’s plates like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It feels like too short a time before we begin our descent. I’ve never wanted a flight to be longer, but today I do. Amalie is quiet, staring out the window as we approach the island. She grips the armrest when the wheels touch down. I note her crossed fingers and then the way she relaxes when the plane slows.
“Are you afraid of flying?” I ask.
She looks over at me. “What?”
“You were crossing your fingers when we landed.”
“Oh.” Her smile is wry. “I’m not afraid of being in the air. It’s the takeoff and landing that make me nervous. It’s why I always have a couple of drinks before I fly, cuts the nerves.”
“I’m pretty sure an entire bottle of champagne qualifies as more than a couple of drinks.”
Amalie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She retrieves her purse from under the seat, pops a square of gum into her mouth, and checks her reflection in a small compact mirror. “I look like last night’s hooker. Why didn’t you tell me my hair was this bad?”
“It looks good to me.”
While she works on fixing her perfectly acceptable appearance, I put all my files back in my bag and make sure I have my phone, iPad, and laptop. Last year Bane left his phone and iPad on a plane and couldn’t communicate with anyone until he had them replaced. That caused a shit show with Ruby, his now live-in girlfriend. And while I don’t have anyone waiting for me back home, I can’t afford to be without my laptop on this trip, or my phone.
“Could you pass me my jacket please?” I point to the floor at her feet.
Amalie reaches down and picks up my jacket. “How’d that get over here?”
“It was a makeshift blanket until the flight attendant came by with a real one.” I leave out the part where I did it to cover her thigh highs and the thin strap of her garters.
She passes it to me. “Thank you. That was thoughtful.”
“It was really nothing.”
“Armstrong would’ve been too worried I’d wrinkle his jacket to do something that considerate.”
“That’s because Armstrong’s a dick.”
Amalie regards me for a few seconds. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I shrug into my jacket, adjusting my collar and tightening my tie.
“Why don’t you two get along?”
“Because he’s a dick.”
“Funny. That’s the same answer I got out of him.”
I sigh. I don’t want to get into this with her. “Sometimes people just don’t see eye to eye. Armstrong and I are like that. And he’s an actual dick who does dickhead things because he enjoys it.”
“I learned that too late, I think.”
The seat-belt light dings and the first-class cabin begins to disembark. I help Amalie with her carry-on and we head for baggage claim together.
“Where are you staying?” I ask as we wait for her bags to come around. She has more than one, likely because she’d planned to spend half of her vacation in lingerie. I throw a mental middle finger at Armstrong for missing out on it. Then I consider that someone else, some random hook-up, might get to see what Armstrong is missing.
“At the Haven.”
“You’ll love it there.” Of course she’s staying at one of my family’s properties. I can’t believe I didn’t ask before now. It’s on the opposite end of the island from where I’m staying, but it’s a small island, so it’s still not very far. I can’t decide if being at the same resort would be good or bad. I’d be tempted to find reasons to see her, and that would inevitably lead to more flirting, which could lead to other, more complicated adventures. If she offered the opportunity, I’d be hard-pressed not to take it.
“Armstrong and I came here several months ago and stayed a couple of nights at each of your resorts. I liked the Mills Resort and Spa best, but Armstrong thought this would be nicer. More private.”
He was right about that. The Haven is far more secluded, with private beachhouses set into the lush landscape. The Mills Resort and Spa is set on the water with a fabulous view of the inactive volcano, which is where I’m staying for now. I imagine Armstrong wanted the beachhouse because he’s not a huge fan of water and the shallow beach would be a better option. Where Amalie is staying is also our honeymoon resort. It’s the newest, the most recently updated, and needs the least of my attention while I’m here.
I collect our bags from the carousel and we head out into the beautiful, hot sunny day. Amalie slips on a pair of huge sunglasses. “What about you? Where are you staying?”
“On the other side of the island at the Resort and Spa.”
“Oh.” The sunglasses cover her eyes, but disappointment colors the single word.
I’m a familiar face on an otherwise solitary holiday. It won’t hurt to give her the ability to reach out should she want company, and I’m hoping she does. “Why don’t I give you my number in case you run into any problems, or you need anything?”
“Um. Okay. Sure. That sounds good.” Amalie rummages around in her purse until she finds her phone. She takes it off airplane mode and alerts and messages blow up the screen. “I guess I should call Ruby so she knows I’m alive.” She ignores the messages and brings up her contact list, adding my name before she passes me the device.
“Like I said, if you need anything while you’re here, I’m just a phone call away.”
“Thank you, Lex. For being so understanding about everything.”
“You didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Maybe not, but you got dragged into it unfairly. Anyway, your kindness has been appreciated.” She steps in, her body pressing against me as her arms wind around my waist. With her heels on, the top of her head reaches my chin. I return her brief embrace, enjoying far too much the way her body feels against mine. When she pulls away, her lips brush against the edge of my jaw. Fresh awkwardness replaces the easy, light mood.
I can fix that. “Just remember, my offer stands.”
She adjusts her purse strap. “What offer?”
I tap her carry-on case with my toe. “To be your beta tester.”
She laughs and shakes her head. I help put her cases in the trunk of one of the waiting cars and hold the door for her.
She waves as the car pulls away, her fingertips sliding down the glass as that soft smile falls. I hope she calls, and even if she doesn’t, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay away from her. Not when she’s this close and I seem to be getting back my lost opportunity.
Nine: Honeymoon Blues
Amie
“I’m here and safe, I’m sorry I didn’t call you before takeoff.” Ruby’s slightly miffed by my lack of communication over the past eighteen hours. Apparently my email was insufficient and did not provide nearly enough details.
“Are you at the resort now? Did you meet a hottie on the plane? Did you hump him in the bathroom?”
“I’m in a car on my way. I didn’t hump anyone in the bathroom, that’s just gross.”
“Your email made it seem like the plane ride
was going to be exciting.” She sounds pouty now.
The man driving glances in the rearview mirror. I smile and go back to my conversation with Ruby as I watch the endless expanse of white sand and pale blue water pass. I can’t wait to go for a swim. Alone.
“It was more exciting than most.” I’m twirling my hair. I sit on my free hand to stop the fidgeting.
“I knew it! Did you get it on with some sex god in your seats? That’s totally an old-you move!”
I snort. “I was never that wild.”
“Pretty close. Anyway, tell me about your seat partner! Was he hot? Did you get a number? Is he staying at your resort?”
“Yes he’s hot, yes I have his number, and no, he’s not staying at my resort.”
“Ohhh! Yay! Too bad about the last part, but Bora Bora is small, right? That means you can go visit him at his resort and then find another hottie to get freaky with at your own. It’s actually perfect.”
I laugh. “I love that you’re condoning such bad behavior, but I’m not going to sleep with him.”
“Why the hell not? You’ve spent the last year with a douchebag, you deserve a few sex-filled weeks.”
“Because Lexington sat beside me on the plane.”
Several seconds of silence follow. I smile as I imagine her shocked expression. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Lexington was on the plane. Beside me.”
Her voice is about seven thousand octaves higher. “As in Bancroft’s brother?”
“Do you know any other men named Lexington?”
“Just that porn star. Holy shit. Wait. Lex is in Bora Bora? How don’t I know this? Hold on.” Her voice is muffled briefly, but her finger must slip, because all of a sudden I hear Bancroft in the background and then it sounds like the phone is being dropped. Ruby returns, her voice still high. “Bancroft didn’t realize Lex was in Bora Bora. No, you can’t have the phone, Bane, just call your damn brother if you want information, I’m having a conversation right now. No. No. Do not make threats you know you can’t follow up on.” There’s more static and movement. “Sorry about that. So Lex was on your flight, in the seat next to you?”
“Yes.”
“How in the world did that happen?”
“There aren’t a lot of flights to Bora Bora, I guess we just happened to book the same one.”
“I mean, why the hell is he in Bora Bora of all places?” It’s more a mutter than an actual question.
“He said it was last minute. I guess since his date was responsible for ruining my wedding he was getting out of Dodge.”
“So it wasn’t orchestrated?”
“Orchestrated? What do you mean?”
“Nothing, never mind. Bane is talking to Lex. It sounds like their father pushed a project that wasn’t supposed to happen for a few months forward because of Brittany Whore-ton’s dick gargling. That’s crazy that you’re in the same place at the same time. Too bad he’s not at the same resort as you.”
“It’s probably better he’s not. I’ve embarrassed myself around him enough as it is. I’d rather he not witness more of my drunk and disorderly behavior.” I’m fidgeting again.
“Come on, Amie, how wild of a coincidence is this? I mean really? How does that even happen?”
I’ve asked myself the same thing and I really can’t answer it. “It’s no big deal. He’s on the other side of the island.”
“For now. I can’t imagine he’ll stay at the same place the entire time. He’ll probably have to move around.” I can hear Bancroft in the background, his tone annoyed but the words too muffled to catch. “I’m glad he’s there. You said you have his number, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m going to call him. He’s here on business. He’ll be busy.” The beta testing comment was just a joke, and he’s notoriously flirty. At least that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself. I have a feeling if I call him, I’m going to do exactly the same thing I did when I found him in my bridal suite, and I won’t have any kind of logical excuse for it other than the sheer desire to get him naked and ride him.
“At least you know someone local.”
“I guess that’s true.”
The driver pulls off the main road, and suddenly we’re in the cover of palm trees and the reception becomes shoddy. We try to talk around it, but it proves impossible. “Can I call you later, once I’m settled?”
“Of course. Have some fun and wear sunscreen!”
“I’ll do my best.”
I end the call as we pull up to the main resort building. In the distance the inactive volcano cuts deep green in to the backdrop of pale blue water and the white sand beach. I check into the resort and my bags are transferred into a golf cart. We make the short trip down a narrow path to my private hut tucked between the palm trees lining the water.
Once my bags are brought inside, I tip the concierge and then I’m left to take in the lavish accommodations.
While the exterior is quaint, the interior is sheer luxury. Rose petals dot the white comforter covering the king-size bed, a gauzy canopy lending a hint of privacy and sensuality. A living room with a couch and a TV is set to the left, a small kitchen with a table for two is positioned close to the sliding doors that lead outside. Beyond that is a massive bathroom, boasting a beautiful soaker tub.
I cross the bungalow and step out on to the private deck. The view is spectacular. It’s the perfect location. The perfect honeymoon. Except I’m alone. The anger and the sadness I’ve wavered between coalesces and becomes thicker; a sludge I feel stuck in.
I pull up the most recent voicemail from Armstrong and debate whether I want to hear what he has to say. I’ll have to listen to it eventually, so I bite the bullet and hit the play button:
“This is the fourth time I’ve called in the past twenty-four hours. This standoff is unhelpful, Amalie. Do you realize how embarrassing this is for me? How can I account for your disappearance? What will people think? Do you have any idea what they’re saying? I don’t know what else I can say or do to rectify this situation. As I’ve said before, it was an unintentional mishap. Haven’t you made mistakes in the past? Surely you can find it in your heart to forgive me this transgression.”
“You’re the fucking mistake.” I delete it so I don’t succumb to the temptation to stew in my own idiocy and listen to it again. In all the messages he’s sent he continually mentions forgiveness, but it seems like he doesn’t actually care about the forgiveness part, it’s just about saving face. It’s disgusting and appalling. There’s no excuse for what he’s done.
The view grows blurry as the tears break free. I step off the deck and sink into the sand, wishing this wasn’t my life, and that I didn’t feel so empty.
* * *
Bora Bora is incredible. The resort is beautiful. It’s also the absolute worst place for a rejected bride. There’s a reason why this hotel is touted as the most romantic honeymoon destination in the world. Because those are the only people here. Happy couples in love greet me at every turn. Gorgeous, sexy people kiss and hold hands and stroll the beaches. They sit across from me at every meal and feed each other chocolate-dipped strawberries. I can literally feel people’s pity. There’s no escaping the humiliation or the loneliness.
For the first twenty-four hours, the concierge kept asking after my husband. I may or may not have accidentally said he was probably off getting a blow job, so he was unlikely to arrive anytime soon.
Three days in and I’m miserable. It doesn’t matter how beautiful my surroundings are, the endless happiness of other couples celebrating their love is painful to witness, in part because I’m alone, but also because over the past few days I’ve begun to truly accept the awful mistake I made in marrying Armstrong. I should’ve trusted my instincts and not listened to my mother, because I need to face reality.
The truth is, I married Armstrong because I got wrapped up in the idea of a perfect love instead of trying to find the real thing. I wanted this to work so badly that I al
lowed him to dictate my choices, not just for the wedding, but in every single part of my life.
It was so much bigger than just manipulating what I wore and ate, although that was definitely part of it. He was subtle in his manipulations, making comments about how things looked on me, what was appropriate and what wasn’t.
All of the things he said and did were meant to make me question myself and undermine my confidence. Worse than that is the way I let him drag me down and make me feel less—less important, less valued, less than good enough. If I had stayed with him I would’ve continually questioned my worth and I probably would’ve ended up falling down a rabbit hole of self-loathing filled with Botox injections and insecurity.
I should’ve taken Ruby’s concerns seriously, but I didn’t and now here I am, alone on my honeymoon, wishing I could go back in time and erase the past year of my life. But I can’t. So this loneliness is my present.
Messages from Armstrong have been constant. It appears my brother made an attempt to deliver the annulment papers a couple of days ago according to one of Armstrong’s many voicemails.
“Annulment papers, Amalie? Honestly? Don’t you think that’s rash? It’s imperative that we have a reasonable discussion, but it doesn’t appear I’ll be able to do that face-to-face with you considering you’re on our honeymoon. Don’t think I didn’t notice the charges on my credit card for the new bathing suit! Or the other items you’ve purchased. I know you went. Do you have my passport? You’re making this extraordinarily difficult.”
This morning I received a message from his mother, which is a new level of horrifying. I’ve avoided listening to it up until now. Her voice is worse than death metal with a migraine.
“Amalie, darling, you’ve made your point. I understand that Armstrong has upset you, however, I think we all know what’s best here. This happens to all of us. Now I realize in this case the circumstances were less than ideal, but I’ve talked to Armstrong and he’s willing to find a way to make amends for this indiscretion. You can’t run from this forever, darling.”
The Shacking Up Series Page 40