32. Ashley
ASHLEY
I zzy was so many things that I would never be. Her skin was flawless and bright with a natural golden hue, like a topaz. She was tall and slender and never bemoaned her modest chest. She had the confidence to go without make-up and wear her hair in a faux-hawk, letting it flop boyishly over her feminine features.
Most of all, Izzy knew what it was like to have sex with Fox.
That was all I could think as I hugged her. I didn’t want to think of it. It certainly didn’t make me feel good. It made me feel small and insecure. Envious. Jealous .
“Oliver and Ryan are still kayaking,” Whitney said, coming in from the lanai behind her. “We decided to steal some of your wine and enjoy the view. Mom is still out with the Holloways.”
Behind Whitney, Fliss scratched her elbow and looked sullen, but remorseful, as if she’d done something wrong by letting her mom and Izzy into our suite.
“No problem. Thanks for making the trek to the airport. How was traffic?” I pretended I didn’t notice the way Izzy smoothly moved to hug Fox.
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be nice or angry with you for busting up the wedding.” Izzy’s voice held a scold. “Either way, it’s good to see you.”
“You, too,” he said politely. He still held the basket from Harry in one arm and pulled away to set it on the dining table.
“We left too early,” Fliss said, watching Fox.
“But that was okay,” Whitney insisted with a tense glance at her daughter. “It gave us time for a froyo and a chat.”
Fliss derided that with a curl of her lip, but continued to stare at the basket. “You got another one? What’s in it?”
“Stuff that won’t travel.” Fox opened it. “Help yourself.”
Izzy and Whitney moved with Fliss, all drawn like magnets.
“Oh, my God!” Izzy snatched up the champagne and hung her mouth open as she displayed it to Whitney.
“Wow.” Whitney crowded around the basket, scooping out jars and crackers and packets of truffles. “This is really high-end stuff.”
“I’ll leave you to your tickle fights and go for a work out,” Fox said, tense beneath his sardonic expression. He crossed to the dresser for a fresh pair of board shorts, sending a more somber look toward me as he passed. “I’ll talk to the front desk, too.”
About getting his own room. I bit the inside of my bottom lip, nodded once, stomach tight against a crease of nausea as he left.
“There’re glasses and everything.” Whitney was saying, drawing the flutes from the basket and sidling a glance at me. “What exactly was Fox planning? And what stopped him from execution?”
“Nothing,” I said with annoyance, trying not to blush or look guilty. Or devastated. “It’s from Harry, the guy he saved.”
“How was the heli-tour?” Fliss asked.
“Really cool.” I tried to find the enthusiasm I’d felt on the first half of the flight. “He took us over the water to where lava was spitting into the ocean, making clouds of steam. Then we stopped on the top of a mountain and hiked to a grotto. Swam a bit, but we weren’t hungry so we came straight back.”
Three pairs of eyes stared at me, seeming to expect a higher level of gushing.
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling transparent. Could they tell Fox and I had had an encounter that had left me in agony?
“Well, it sounds like taking you on that tour was the least he could do after wrecking your wedding,” Izzy pronounced. “I say we celebrate all the single ladies.”
“Hey,” Whitney said with a frown of consternation.
“Unless you want to be with someone. Then you get to celebrate that,” Izzy corrected easily. “What do you say?” she asked me as she showcased the champagne like a game show hostess.
“What the hell.” I nodded for Izzy to peel the foil off the cork. According to Fox, if I wanted to drown my sorrows, I should do it with the good stuff.