14. Vada
VADA
The first thing I notice when I wake up is Emory's steady breathing beneath my ear, and the second is that I don't want to move from this perfect position.
We're tangled together in his bed, morning sunlight streaming through the ocean-view windows.
Lazy contentment fills his body and matches my own.
"Good morning," his voice is rough with sleep as his arm tightens around me.
"Morning," I murmur against his chest, pressing a kiss to his warm skin. "What time do we have to be responsible adults?"
"Mmm," he considers this, his hand stroking down my spine in a way that makes me arch against him. "Bachelor party boat leaves at ten. Your spa thing starts at nine-thirty."
"That gives us..." I lift my head to check the clock, "about an hour."
"An hour," he repeats, his eyes darkening as his hands frame my face. "What should we do with a whole hour?"
Instead of answering, I lean down to kiss him, soft and slow at first, then deeper as he responds with the kind of hunger that makes my pulse race. His hands slide into my hair, holding me close as I settle more fully on top of him.
"Vada," he breathes against my mouth, and there's something in the way he says my name that makes everything else disappear.
"I know," I whisper back, already moving against him in ways that make him groan softly.
What follows is unhurried and perfect – the kind of morning intimacy that feels both languid and desperate, like we're trying to memorize each other before the separation.
He worships every inch of my skin with his mouth and hands, making me gasp and arch beneath him until I'm completely lost in sensation.
When I finally fall apart in his arms, crying out his name, he follows me over the edge with my name on his lips like a prayer.
Afterward, we lie breathless and tangled together, neither of us wanting to acknowledge that we need to get ready for our respective activities.
"I want to spend the day with you" I admit, tracing patterns on his chest.
"Same," he says, pressing a kiss to my hair.
"It's just fishing and spa treatments," I point out, though I'm already calculating exactly how many hours until we see each other tonight.
“Twelve hours without you," he corrects, tilting my chin up so I'm looking at him. "The longest we've been apart since we got here."
Before I can respond to that confession, there's an energetic call down the hallway.
"BACHELOR PARTY ASSEMBLY!" Derek's voice booms through the wooden barrier. "The boat awaits!"
"Derek," Emory mutters with fond exasperation, but he's already reaching for his clothes. “Perfect timing."
Twenty minutes later, we're standing at the marina with the rest of the wedding party, and I'm surprised by how difficult this goodbye feels. It's only a day apart, but Emory has become such a constant presence that the separation feels oddly significant.
"Have fun with your cultural fishing experience," I say, straightening his shirt collar with the excuse to touch him one more time.
"Have fun being pampered," he replies, catching my hands and holding them against his chest. "Though you're already perfect."
"GET A ROOM!" Derek shouts cheerfully from the fishing boat, where the other groomsmen are already loading equipment. "Save some of that energy for tonight's reunion!"
"Derek," I call out with amusement, "try not to fall overboard."
"No promises!" Derek replies with obvious excitement about whatever chaos he's planning for the bachelor party.
Emory leans down to kiss me goodbye, soft and lingering despite our very public location. "See you tonight," he murmurs against my lips.
"See you tonight," I agree, watching him walk toward the boat with obvious reluctance.
The spa at Paradise Cove is absolutely stunning , an open-air pavilion with flowing white curtains, treatment rooms overlooking the ocean, and the kind of serene atmosphere that immediately makes stress melt away.
Maya appears at my side as we're checked in by staff members who move with the efficiency of serious luxury hospitality.
"No phones policy," one of the spa coordinators explains as we're guided to lockers. "Complete digital detox for optimal relaxation experience."
"Digital detox," I repeat with mixed feelings. Part of me is relieved to disconnect, but another part already misses the option of texting Emory.
"It'll be good for you," Maya says, surrendering her phone with obvious reluctance. "When's the last time you went twelve hours without checking notifications?"
"I honestly can't remember," I admit, following her toward the relaxation lounge where the bridesmaids are already settling in with cucumber water and soft robes.
The first few hours pass in a blur of luxury treatments, a detoxifying body wrap that leaves my skin glowing, a massage that works out tension I didn't know I was carrying, and a facial that makes me look like I've been sleeping for weeks instead of staying up late with Emory.
During a break between treatments, I find myself on the relaxation deck with Erika, both of us sipping herbal tea and looking out at the ocean where we can just barely see the fishing boat in the distance.
"How are you feeling about everything?" Erika settles into the chair beside mine with genuine curiosity.
"About what?" I ask, though I suspect she's referring to the chemistry between Emory and me.
"About being here, watching me marry Jared." She speaks with characteristic directness. "I know this situation could be weird."
"It's not weird at all," I say honestly, meaning it completely. "You and Jared are perfect for each other. Anyone can see that."
"And you and Emory?" She smiles like she's drawn her own conclusions.
"We're figuring it out." I can't keep the happiness out of my voice. "But yeah, there's something there."
"Something," Erika repeats with obvious amusement. "Vada, you two look at each other like you're the only two people on earth. That's not 'something,' that's everything."
"You think?" I ask, genuinely curious about her outside perspective.
"I think we all made the right choices," Erika says with contentment that radiates from her. "Jared and I work because we want the same things; stability, partnership, building something steady together. You and Emory have this electric connection that's impossible to fake."
"Electric connection," I test how the phrase feels.
"The way you move together, how naturally you coordinate, the obvious chemistry; it's what everyone hopes to find but most people never do," Erika continues with growing enthusiasm. "I'm excited to see where this goes for you both."
Before I can respond, one of the bridesmaids appears to let us know our next treatments are ready, and Erika gets pulled away by her maid of honor for some bride-specific pampering.
The afternoon continues with more luxury treatments – hair styling that transforms my waves into something red-carpet worthy, makeup that enhances rather than masks, and a manicure that makes my hands look elegant. By the time we're finished, I feel like a different version of myself.
"Holy shit, Vada," Maya says when she sees the final result. "You look absolutely stunning."
"Do I?" I ask, checking my reflection in the spa's floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The woman looking back at me is polished and confident and beautiful in a way that feels both authentic and elevated.
"Emory's going to lose his mind when he sees you," Maya confirms with obvious satisfaction at the transformation.
As we're gathering our things and preparing to head back to the resort for dinner preparations, I catch sight of the fishing boat returning to the marina through the spa's panoramic windows. From this distance, I can make out individual figures on the deck, and my pulse quickens with anticipation.
"There they are." Maya follows my gaze toward the boat. "Ready for your grand reunion?"
"More than ready." I watch the boat approach the dock and calculate how long until I can see Emory again.
"Good." Maya grins. "Because after today's transformation, tonight's going to be interesting."
As we walk back toward the resort, I think about Erika's words about electric connections and making the right choices.
Six days ago, I thought I was here to prove I could handle my ex-boyfriend's wedding with mature grace.
Now I'm walking back to meet someone who makes everything feel possible instead of complicated.