The bellman enters and we fall silent while he sets each suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed. When he leaves, she crosses the room and unzips it, saying nothing. The inside of her bag looks like it’s been styled for a photo shoot. Everything is pressed, perfectly folded. That’s Sloane to a T. Neat, precise, methodical.
By contrast, Drew’s bag is probably bursting at the seams. I picture frilly panties and bras and negligees exploding like confetti from a cannon when she opens it. I have no clue why I’m picturing Drew’s panties, or why I picture them all being sheer and extremely non-functional, but it’s a troubling development.
Sloane opens a drawer and then closes it. “Is this going to be okay? That I’m here?”
No, I think. There is so much that is not okay at this moment that I feel like I can barely take a deep breath. “Of course,” I tell her, because the only option is to say Hey, not really, would you mind flying back to Atlanta instead?
Her lips press tight. “Then do me a favor: please don’t spend the entire trip fawning over your brother’s girlfriend.”
I give a startled laugh. “Fawning?”
“You talked to her more than you did me at the airport,” she replies. “And then you rushed into doctor mode in the van.”
“I asked her not to throw up on my pants. It was hardly the height of medical care.”
Her lips press again, as if she doesn’t agree but knows further argument is pointless, and I step onto the balcony. There is no longer enough air in this oversized room. I suspect it’s going to feel that way until we leave.
My hands grip the railing and I glare at the perfect view. What the hell am I going to do? The issues with my mother would be enough to make me feel like I was drowning without an unhappy ex sharing my room for the next two weeks.
The balcony door beside mine slips open and Drew walks out, pulling her endless blonde hair free of its ponytail. She’s removed the hoody she wore earlier, stripped down to the tank beneath. I see ice-blue bra straps, a hint of lace under the shirt’s thin fabric. Collarbone, bee-stung lips, so much exposed skin. She always looks like her clothes can’t quite contain her.
And in response I feel that same fizzle inside me, that bizarre, unwelcome spark I’ve had before. My gaze darts to the hint of lace beneath her shirt and darts away.
I’m better than this. And for the next two weeks, I’m going to have to be a lot better than this.
“Pretend I’m not here,” she says, with knowing brown eyes that seem to see right through me.
“I plan to,” I reply dryly.
3
DREW
Joshua. So far, he’s exceeding any and all expectations.
Because I expected him to be a dick, and my God he’s killing it.
I leave him standing outside, staring at Diamond Head as if it’s done something to him. I picture him mentally crafting a list of things he hates:
1. Drew
2. Threats to Mother’s silver
3. Dormant volcanoes
4. Drew, again
The bed—white, fluffy, oversized—calls to me but I don’t dare lie down. I’m way too tired—there’s not a chance I’d get back up before I have to meet the Baileys down at the oceanfront bar. Instead, I shower and wander the grounds, trying to stay awake.
My phone buzzes in my pocket while I’m perusing one of the shops in the center of the hotel. I know it’s Tali before I even answer the call, because she’s the sort of person who writes down what flight you’re on and checks to make sure you landed safely. She’s going to be an amazing mom.
“Did you make it in one piece?” she asks.
I go outside and sit on a bench, groaning a little. How am I so stiff from sitting all day? “Barely. And I’ll give you one guess what Joshua said. First thing out of his mouth.”
“Don’t steal the silver?” She’s heard, obviously, about the first time I met him. Her soft giggle lightens my mood just a little.
I kick off one flip-flop and dig my toes into the grass. Even the Halekulani’s grass is quieter and more elegant than anyone else’s. “He would have, I’m certain, if they’d traveled here with it. And seriously, why is silver still a thing? It’s something people put in their mouths. If I don’t want a diamond you’ve put in your mouth, I sure as shit don’t want metal you’ve put in your mouth. But anyway…no, he did not bring up the silver. He said You’re sweating, the way someone else might say You’re bleeding. Like…it was a thing decent people don’t do.”
She laughs. Tali is one of the most bubbly people I know, and now that she’s carrying what’s politely referred to as a honeymoon baby, though the baby was in there before any honeymoon occurred, she’s positively giddy. “And I’m sure you responded with your customary restraint,” she says.
I lean backward, staring absentmindedly at the pretty white dress in the window. It’s delicate and girlish, nothing I would ever wear. “I was lovely to him,” I reply. “Sort of. It’s all vague because I’m tired but I’m almost certain I behaved like an adult. Anyway, how’s my future godson?”
“You’re as bad as Hayes. We don’t know it’s a boy. But to answer your question, she is a monster who, according to the lady at Whole Foods, is stealing my beauty. She literally said that to me. I can tell you’re having a girl because she’s stealing your beauty. Have you told Davis you’re not going to rehab?”
Oh, right. My manager pulled a lot of strings to get me into some swanky rehab center in Utah, which would make him sound like a prince among men, except he did it without asking me, and I don’t need rehab. We’re still on our six-week break from the tour, so for once he can’t threaten me with phrases like breach of contract.
I pull my hair off my face. “He’ll probably figure it out when I don’t get off the plane.”
“I wish you’d fire him. Why is your life so full of men I want to punch?” she asks. I brace for her to ask about Six, brace for the moment when I have to admit he no-showed on this trip—which only sounds forgivable if I explain that he’s in jail—but she’s still focused on my awful manager. “Please call Ben. He’s a brilliant lawyer. I know he can get you out of your contract with Davis. And my husband trusts him—you know Hayes doesn’t trust anyone.”
“He trusts you,” I remind her.
I can hear the smile in her voice. “I guess that’s a good thing, since I’m his wife.”
Tali and Hayes? They’re that road trip sort of couple. The ones who don’t know what’s coming but are in it for the long haul. Marriage thrills them both, and watching them terrifies me.
Because anything that thrills you will hurt that much more when it’s lost.
The Baileys are all gathered by the time I get to the oceanfront bar for the hotel’s nightly sunset show. Sloane is still dressed like she’s here to learn about tax loopholes for rich douchebags, but Josh has changed into a t-shirt and khaki shorts and I can’t entirely explain the small jump in my gut at the sight of him there, sprawled in a chair he’s too big for, with his very well-defined biceps on display. It’s sort of like when you hear about someone’s fetish and feel simultaneously disgusted and titillated by it.