42. Ashley
ASHLEY
I heard the phone while I was in the shower and didn’t bother listening to the message, presuming it was a reminder from Whitney to bring the sunglasses she’d left here yesterday. I texted that I was running late and would meet them in the spa. Then I pulled a sundress over my damp body and combed out my wet hair. No time for make-up, even though my eyes were still red from the reactive tears I’d shed while in the shower.
Fox’s stricken look as Shane had walked out on us was sitting against my heart like a razor blade, digging in with each beat. My fault, my fault, my fault .
I cringed, grabbed my purse and kicked into my flipflops, then hurried down to the far end of the hall, to the elevator that went directly to the spa. It was only when I stood alone in the lingering scent of essential oils that I allowed myself to wonder how Fox was making out with Shane.
A glance at my phone only told me Whitney was in the spa, waiting for me.
The doors opened and I saw her sitting next to Fliss in the waiting area. Fliss lifted her gaze from her phone long enough to send me a why-am-I-here look.
“Thank you,” Whitney breathed as she shoved her sunglasses onto her face, covering make-up that looked stark against her green-tinged complexion.
Izzy came in from the stairway entrance. She wore sunglasses with rhinestones on their arms. Her denim shorts had an overall bib and she wore a neon blue crop-top beneath.
“Were we actually dancing on the ceiling last night?” Izzy asked. “’Cause I woke up on the floor and I feel like I fell twelve feet. Getting pedicures was a way better idea when I thought we’d be partying tonight instead of last night.”
I smiled, but it didn’t stick.
“Why do you look hungover?” Izzy asked me with disgust. “You left early.”
I hadn’t decided how much to say, but figured I had to at least warn them.
“Shane’s here.”
Izzy dropped her sunglasses down her nose to blink her thick lashes at me. Whit made a strangled noise and Fliss asked, “Does that mean the wedding is on again?”
“ No .”
“I was just asking.” Fliss went back to reading her phone.
I hadn’t meant to sound so bitchy, but I’d spent a lot of yesterday deconstructing my engagement with Whit and Izzy. Today’s conversation with Shane might not have been easy, but I’d had time to process that we really had been doomed. That had helped me articulate it to him, unpleasant as that had been.
“Is everyone here? Please come in,” a technician invited, leading the four of us to two pairs of massage chairs facing each other. “Shall I bring a round of mimosas? I’ll need I.D.,” she told Fliss.
“I’m twelve. I don’t want anything.” Fliss didn’t want to be here. None of us did, but we should have cancelled two days ago if we didn’t want to be charged for it. When I had tried to do that, Whitney had insisted we should spoil ourselves. So here we were, day undeniably spoiled.
“Have you talked to him?” Izzy asked as we all kicked off our flip-flops and sat down to sink our feet into our respective footbaths.
“He was in my room. I had no choice.”
“Really?” Whitney paused in fingering through the magazines on the table between us. “Did he walk in on you and Fox sharing a room and come to a completely logical conclusion?”
Fliss lifted her gaze from the chair controller she was using to try out all the rolls and bumps of the mechanical massage.
The young women arranging instruments at our feet exchanged not-so-subtle looks of ‘this is going to be good.’
“No.” I scowled at Whitney. “Other way around, if you must know.” I smiled a thank you for the mimosa as it arrived and wet my dry throat. “We walked in on him coming out of the shower. Completely starkers.” It was an irrelevant detail that was a useful distraction.
“Ooh, I’d like to see that,” Izzy mused. “What did he want? Don’t say a wedding.”
“He did,” I admitted flatly. “I said ‘no thank you.’”
“How did he take that?” Izzy asked, growing more concerned.
“Not well.” I glanced at my phone, disturbed that there was nothing from Fox.
“Why not? Did he jump to conclusions about you and Fox?” Whitney asked, taking on her Law and Order voice. “Better yet, do you continue to deny these accusations are unjustified?”
“Whit,” I said tiredly.
“I noticed he left right after you did last night.”
“You said you weren’t going to sleep with him,” Fliss said. “Did you?”
“Hold on,” Izzy demanded, putting up a hand. “Are you and Fox a thing? Why didn’t you tell me? Is that why he told Shane not to marry you?”
“No! Gawd .” I caught another wide-eyed ‘holy shit’ look zing between the techs. “We’re just friends. Were. Are. It’s complicated.” I clenched my eyes shut, wishing I could disappear. Wishing I could chew off the foot I’d shoved in my mouth because I was well and truly trapped.
“We’re going to need a bottle of tequila, lime wedges, and salt,” Izzy said sweetly to her tech. “Four glasses, and you’ll have to overlook Fliss’s lack of i.d. This is crash-course, Sister’s Traveling Pants, high-grade gossip. We cannot leave her in the field.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” I thought about storming out, but with my feet all soapy, I’d probably do a Bambi on ice and provide even more entertainment. Maybe even earn a trip to the hospital to get a bone set.
“So, what are you going to do?” Fliss asked. “Marry Fox instead? And go to Australia like you planned?”
“No,” Whitney answered for me. “What rebounds in Hawaii stays here.”
“It’s not a rebound! I don’t know what it is, but it’s not that.” What could it be, though? I’d cost him his best friend, his home, his career. No wonder he wasn’t texting me.
How much did he hate me? That was the painful question I was trying not to answer.
“It’s a rebound,” Whitney insisted. “You got dumped and you’ve leapt on the next available man. There’s no shame in it. I’ve done it—” She clammed up and smiled at her daughter.
“You won’t let me eat sugar cereal, but you’ll talk about casual sex in front of me? Good to know you’ll be totally fine when I start doing it.”
Whitney sent Fliss a stern look.
“One of the best things women can do for one another is avoid slut-shaming,” Izzy said to Fliss before taking a sip from her narrow glass. “And Fox is actually a pretty good cure for a broken heart.”
“Is that why you slept with him? To get over someone else?” I asked, wondering if he knew that.
“He hasn’t exactly called. I don’t think he cares,” Izzy said dryly.
“Good grief. At this rate, I’m going to have to sleep with him just to keep up,” Whitney said under her breath.
“We can be sister wives,” Izzy said brightly. “Polyamory is all the rage these days.”
I shot her a look, wondering if that was a dig about my unintended thruple with Fox and Shane.
“My friend Gillian has twin cousins who don’t have the same dad.” Fliss clicked off her phone. “They’re a boy and a girl so you can’t really tell, but their mom is polyamorous and got pregnant from both guys at the same time.”
Izzy turned her head to scoff, “That isn’t possible.”
Fliss shrugged . “It happens with cats all the time.”
Whitney set aside her magazine. “Is the tequila here yet?”