Chapter 45
45
Natalie
A s soon as the festival ends, Hott Springs Eternal inaugurates its first few activities—the Wedding Launch, flower arranging, Wine and Paint night, and the ever-popular Jell-O wrestling and Nerf battle. They’re all a resounding success. We’re deep into wedding season now, and the sign-ups are filled almost instantly, with waiting lists forming for all the activities. Everything goes as smoothly as can be expected (we won’t talk about the paint I can’t quite get out of the HSE dining room floor; I’m working on better floor coverings for the next round), and I feel…
Mostly empty.
Because the person I most want to share my success with isn’t here.
I have hundreds of photos of people enjoying our offerings, some of which I posted to social media, but most of which I just page through, wishing I could text them to Preston but not wanting to deluge him with texts I know he doesn’t have the time to respond to right now.
Especially the one of Hanna looking down at the world’s most half-assed flower arrangement. ( That’s why I hire people to do that part, she said grumpily as I took the photo.)
Impetuously, I send him the photo, captioned with Hanna’s grumpy utterance.
And wait.
And wait.
Our communication has been painfully spotty this whole week. But this is the first time he’s completely ignored me—and as much as I’d like to be impervious, I’m not. I’m hurt.
After a while I get sick of waiting by the phone for a guy who clearly doesn’t have time for me, and I decide to celebrate my successes without him.
Classic rewards include chocolate, wine, and spa visits.
Which is why I’m dressed in my robe and headed down to the hot springs, in defiance of every portion of my soul telling me to stay away from the scene of the crime.
Preston may not remember I exist, but I’m not going to let that deprive me of the chance to have a hot dip.
Except as I approach the hot springs, I hear voices.
I stop. I don’t want to interrupt anyone else’s intimate evening. Personal experience has taught me that what goes on at night at Hott Springs Eternal isn’t an open house.
“Natalie!” a voice says happily behind me, and I turn to find Reggie from the spa. She’s balancing a plate of cookies on a box of wine. “Can you get that gate for me?”
Obligingly, I do.
“Can you grab the cookies from me and put them on that table?” she asks, tipping her head to indicate the table in question.
I do. I can see who’s in the water now—Sonya and Ivy.
“I brought a buddy,” Reggie says.
I open my mouth to say that I don’t want to butt in, that I can come back another night, but Sonya beams delightedly at me.
“Natalie!” she says. “We were doing some planning for Ivy’s two weddings, and then we got burned out and decided to quit for the night and have a dip instead.”
“Two weddings?” I ask, raising my eyebrow at Ivy.
“One for our actual friends and family, and one for Shane’s screaming public,” Ivy says, rolling her eyes.
“She’s just being modest,” Sonya says. “It’s her screaming public, too.”
“It’s all the people shipping me and Shane, basically,” Ivy says. “Anyway, we’re not actually planning both. Publicists are planning one and we’re”—she gestures at her friends—“planning the other one.” She looks to me. “Do you know the whole story?”
“I know the gist,” I say.
“I should fill in the details, right?” Sonya says.
“If she has all night,” Ivy says, but before I can try again to extricate myself gracefully, Sonya has jumped in to tell me how Ivy and Shane got themselves into their now famous—and maybe slightly infamous—celebrity match.
Reggie has been pouring glasses of wine while Sonya talks, and she starts handing them around. She puts one in my hand.
“I—”
“Come on in,” Sonya says.
“I don’t want to crash your party,” I finally manage.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ivy says. “You’re always welcome. You’re one of us now.”
I duck my chin.
“What?” Sonya asks.
“I don’t know if it’s going to work,” I admit. “He more or less warned me it wouldn’t. Couldn’t. The day before he left. He told me he was scared that he couldn’t change and that once he was back in New York, he would slip back into spending all his time working and wouldn’t have time for me. And like a dope, I said, ‘I won’t let that happen.’ Like it was something I’d have any control over. And now he’s doing exactly what he said he was afraid of.” I bite my lip.
Ivy and Sonya exchange a look.
“You know,” Sonya says, so casually that I can tell she’s not. “Quinn and I broke up for a little while. After we fulfilled the terms of the will. Because we didn’t think we could make it work.”
“And so did Shane and I,” Ivy says. “For the same reason.”
I know what they’re trying to do, and I appreciate it—but I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up about this—including mine. I shake my head. “I think this might be a different situation,” I say. “I think I was a fun diversion for him while he was here, but—maybe that’s all it was.”
Ivy’s quiet for a moment. Then she says, “It doesn’t matter, you know. To us. Whether you end up with him or not. Once you’ve been through the Hott will wringer, you’re part of the family forever. You can’t get rid of us. You’re stuck with us. So you might as well get in and enjoy the water.” And she reaches up to take my wineglass so I can climb in.
I hesitate a moment. But the water steams temptingly, and their faces are all soft, smiling, and sympathetic. I lower myself in.
“To Fox Hott and his worst impulses,” Sonya says with a sigh, and Ivy hands me my glass as she and Reggie lift theirs.
So do I. We clink, and I recognize that the tightness in my chest now isn’t sadness. It’s something else entirely.
Belonging to this little group feels a lot like sinking into the soothing embrace of the hot springs.