perfect narrative
MARLEY
A sense of calm rushes over me as I melt into my shaded daybed.
Outside the sheer white curtains, the resort’s shimmering infinity pool water seems to be spilling into the deep blue of the Pacific.
It’s surprisingly peaceful out today. The crowd is thin, the therapeutic sound of the ocean washing over the silence.
I’ve read several chapters of Seven Days in June, and now I’m marinating in the pure serenity of doing absolutely nothing.
I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, letting my thoughts mimic the slow, rhythmic pull of the tide.
In, out.
Deep, shallow.
Behind my closed eyes morphs a vision of Othello’s muscular chest and handsome face. It’s hard to concentrate on anything but him these days. He has become a constant thought.
Needing a distraction from my thoughts of him, I reach for my phone resting beside me to start a mindless scroll on Instagram, but my screen lights up, sending my heart straight into my throat.
OTHELLO: how’s your pool day going?
MARLEY: So far, so good. How’s the wedding?
OTHELLO: null and void.
To this I call him, and he answers before the first ring ends.
“What do you mean? What happened?” I ask, sitting up straight on the daybed.
I imagine Carina at the altar, gorgeous and beautiful, telling Gavin she doesn’t want to marry him this way. But I’m all wrong. It was Gavin who put a stop to it before they even reached the altar.
“He’s mourning his mother. Says he’s been running on autopilot since she passed and hasn’t really had a chance to mourn her. I think he’s in some kind of depression.”
I sigh and drop my head in my hands. I’m devastated for Gavin. I can’t even imagine what it must be like losing a parent. And depression was a beast that couldn't be outrun.
“Well, how did Carina take it?”
“She took it well. She was a little upset, but in the end she was relieved.”
I bet she was.
She never wanted this. She was suffocating under the weight of her mother’s expectations just as much as Gavin was suffocating under his grief. They needed to be alone. Both of them. Together or apart, but Gavin needed time. And Carina needed a safe haven away from her overbearing mother.
“What are they going to do now?”
“Well, after Collette had a mental meltdown, she decided the reception should go on. She doesn't want family and friends spending their last night in Maui focused on what didn't happen.”
“Spoken like a true Queen,” I say softly.
“Carina and Gavin agree too. They’re in good spirits and happy with their decision. I know it was a lot of weight off both their shoulders.”
“I love that for them,” I say, smiling.
“Yeah, me too. I’m actually gonna stay here and keep Gavin company. The guys are all hanging out in the groom’s lounge shooting pool.”
“Ooo, sounds fun,” I tease.
“But…” his voice drags. “You should come to the reception later. It’ll be fun.”
“Oh, no, absolutely not,” I answer quickly.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve embarrassed myself enough on this trip.”
“Trust me, nobody’s thinking about that.”
“I am.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. Think about it,” he tells me.
“I will.”
But I already know that I won’t.
We talk some more until he tells me he’s up for a game of pool. I settle back into the daybed and watch the postcard view while a sudden calm envelopes me. And the stubborn optimist in me steps front and center, leaving me with the unshakeable feeling that everything is going to be just fine.
Everything will be okay.
I believe it. I know it.
I head back to the suite I’ve been sharing with Othello. The moment I step inside, a heavy wave of bittersweet reality crashes over me.
This is it. Our last night in this room. Our last night in Maui.
Our last night together?
My mind traces back through the week, counting the pieces of him I've collected.
From lunch and a movie on a ten-hour flight, to in-depth conversations, to tacos and terrible car karaoke.
To our first kiss on the beach, the helicopter ride, the head-spinning morning sex, and chocolate tastings, and simply pretending to be his girlfriend, Othello had done something far more dangerous than play a part. He had become real.
Something I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk away from once this trip was all said and done. I was falling for him, and I was too far gone to be ashamed about it.
Goodness me.
I’m not surprised at how quickly I’ve fallen for this man. It’s what I do. But I am surprised by how terrifyingly right all this feels.
In the past, my quick crushes were built on fantasy and wishful thinking. But this? This wasn't a fantasy. I had seen the real, unpolished edges of Othello, the consistency, the rawness, and I couldn’t help falling for the sheer honesty of him.
I drop my things on the armchair and head to the bathroom, where I turn the shower dial as hot as I can bear. Memories take over, my mind reminiscing of the ways Othello had me hemmed up against this very wall, breaking my back in while his hands gripped my neck.
I shudder at the thought, wishing he were here to give me what I want and need right here and now.
I will miss this shower. And that bed. And that dresser. I will miss how he holds me at night after he rocks my body to sleep with his five-star lovemaking.
I finally step out of the shower, after a good wash, and wrap my hair in a plush white towel. I’m tying the hotel’s complimentary robe around my waist when a sharp sound cuts through the quiet of the suite.
Knock. Knock.
I’m thinking Othello left his key card until I open the door and see Collette standing there, dressed in an elaborate lavender gown with beading and off-shoulder sleeves.
Her posture is straight and commanding, hands clasped in front of her. With her striking silver hair sculpted into flawless Hollywood waves, she looks entirely regal and gorgeous.
Fashion icon.
“Hey, Collette,” I greet in surprise and confusion.
“Marley,” she says properly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. But do you mind if I come in?”
“Not at all.” I step aside, letting her in and clutching my robe tight.
“Is everything okay? I mean, I heard what happened, but I thought you’d be at the reception.”
“The reception is still being prepared,” her eyes briefly scanning the room before settling back on me. She doesn’t take a seat. She remains standing, her hands still clasped. “We weren’t exactly anticipating an afternoon with no ceremony and no bridal photos.”
My shoulders drop. “Oh, I’m sorry that happened. I know how much this day meant to you, and how excited you were to watch Carina get married.”
“I am a woman who thrives on predictions and flawless execution. To be thoroughly surprised by circumstances completely out of my control...it's a humbling reality. But that’s not what I came to discuss. I felt it was necessary to tell you in person.” She pauses. “The truth is... I owe you an apology."
I blink. "An apology? To me?"
"To you," she admits, a faint, sad smile touching her lips.
"When I found out about the arrangement between you and Othello, I shut down on you.
I was hurt. I felt handled. And because I have spent the last 40 years of my life mastering control over every outcome, I did what I always do. I shut it down."
“You had every right. And I can’t apologize enough. What I did was so out of character for me. That’s not who I am.”
“I believe you,” she nods with that same grin. “Besides, Othello wouldn't let me think otherwise.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“We talked earlier today. He told me how he’d started the lie out of panic and why you wanted to keep up the charade. He also let it be known that you aren’t a dishonest person, just someone who made a bad decision.”
My heart smiles at this.
“I’ve spent so long trying to curate the perfect narrative.
I’ve been doing it pretty much my entire life.
With my career, the magazine, and God help me, I’ve been doing the same thing with Carina and this wedding.
When you're a mother, you spend so much time trying to protect your children from making mistakes that sometimes you forget they are supposed to become their own people. Separate from your vision."
Is this what my mother was doing? The question hits me like a physical blow. Is she forgetting I’m my own person? Confusing her vision with my own.
I am all too familiar with the suffocating weight of an overbearing mother.
I spent my entire life having my choices anticipated, my mistakes managed, and my boundaries completely ignored.
And every time, I had resented my mother for it, labeling her control as selfishness.
But hearing it from Collette shifts the perspective.
Maybe my mother isn’t trying to erase me.
Maybe she is simply blinded by her own protective fear, forcing her own dreams onto a canvas that was never hers to paint.
“I have no clue what it’s like to be a mother, but I get it. I do. And I appreciate you coming here to talk to me.”
Collette arches an impeccable eyebrow, looking me over from my towel-wrapped hair down to my bare feet.
“I assume you’re getting ready for the reception. Or perhaps you were planning on making a very bold style statement tonight?”
We laugh, the sound bright and unexpected. The gesture alone fills my heart and proves that the storm has passed and we are back on good terms.
“Oh, no,” I admit with a sheepish smile. “I was getting ready to binge-watch Love is Blind and order room service.”
“Carina was expecting you at the reception.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I can show my face there.”
“No one cares, darling. Although you two were pretty convincing,” she says with a sly grin. “You can fake a title, but you can’t fake that kind of chemistry.”
My chest tightens as Collette takes a step closer to me.
"Truth is, you've been more honest with my daughter this week than most of the people she keeps in her circle. She thinks of you as a friend.”
I smile at the thought. Carina and I couldn’t be any more different on paper. But somehow, someway we’d found common ground. And maybe that common ground is our mothers.
Collette passes by me, the sophisticated scent of her Black Orchid perfume trailing behind her.
“If you change your mind, you know where to find us.” She says, then opens the door and disappears behind it.
I stare at the empty doorway for a long moment.
Do I want to spend my last night in Maui at this reception?
My original plans sounded much better. But I am on vacation, and I could do something like that back at home.
How many celebrity wedding receptions would I frequent in Maui?
The words my mother had hollered at me over the phone before I came here make me reconsider.
Let your hair down and do something wild for once.
I unwrap the towel from my hair and head to the closet where my dinner dresses hang.