Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Naomi
R eina is the first person I see when I make my way down to the restaurant just before six. I’ve seen a few pictures of her on the resort socials, but this is the first time we’ve met.
Our family isn’t exactly the get together for holiday dinners type. Maybe we would be if my mom was around, but I never got the chance to find out.
“Naomi.” She approaches with a big smile that I can’t help but return.
Her big, blue eyes are glowing with happiness. Actual, genuine happiness. It’s almost refreshing after so many years of internet life, complete with its filters and posed smiles. This woman doesn’t need a filter at all, her strawberry blonde hair, tan, and freckled skin could be a filter itself. One that people would pay to use. Myself included.
“Good to finally meet you, Reina. I can’t believe it took almost four years.”
She pulls me into an embrace and holds me there for so long that I relax into it and start to really, truly hug her back. We breathe together for a moment, and I catch her scent. Some kind of flower. And cinnamon maybe. Everything about her is calming and reassuring, even the smell of her shampoo.
Maybe island life is what I need after all. It looks pretty good on Reina.
She pulls away and holds me at arm’s length, looking me over like a proud grandma or something. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Me too.” The words surprise me as they come out feeling very true. When I first got on that plane, I wouldn’t have described my mental state as happy, per se. But now? Far away from the bustling streets and self-imposed pressure to live a perfect, Instagram-worthy life? I may not actually be happy, but I am feeling happy.
Baby steps.
“Girl talk!” comes another cheerful voice from behind me. I turn, Reina’s hand still on my shoulder and smile at the newcomer.
I know exactly who this is. Franzeska, the feisty beauty who snagged Avery Covington.
Her face is all over the internet, both on her and Ave’s profiles and on the many celeb accounts that follow Avery and other rich, handsome men like him.
The first thing I notice about her is how comfortable she seems, just like Reina. She’s dressed simply in an emerald green tank dress that sets off her hazel eyes and long, dark hair. Those tousled beach waves look very…well, beachy. Perfect, but in that annoying way that you know damn well she didn’t have to spend the last hour working for.
Unlike mine, which have yet to meet the ocean here on Faraday. And which I spent the last damn hour perfecting.
I glance down at my own outfit, high waisted, belted linen shorts with a cream silk tank. Both items had to be steamed before I wore them tonight, after a long trip in my suitcase. I know neither of these women was at home steaming their outfits or curling their lashes before coming to dinner.
I’m feeling like a total bimbo. A fake. A fraud.
It’s the last thing I need before sitting down at a table with Sam.
I try to hide my apprehension behind a big smile. “You must be Franzeska,” I say as Reina lets me go and pulls the woman into the same hug she just gave me.
I guess I’m not so special after all.
“It’s just Fran these days. Avery made sure of that.”
There’s humor in her voice, and I’m sure the story she’s hinting at would be funny and worth hearing, but I’m struggling to rally my excitement for this dinner all of a sudden.
I was less than stoked to hear that these two women had been invited to dinner at all. I was hoping for a few hours alone with Sam so we could get some things straight.
So I could get something off my chest.
And now I get to spend those hours sitting at a table with these two perfectly skinny, effortlessly beautiful twenty-somethings.
I know it’s not a competition, but…I mean, isn’t everything?
Reina takes my hand along with one of Fran’s and we walk together down the hallway toward the restaurant entrance. As soon as we pass through into the bright, airy dining room, I spot Sam leaning against the bar, chatting with one of the employees.
A male employee, my jealous heart notes with relief.
I’m going to have to get this shit under control.
That man is not mine, as much as I wish things could be different.
Even if I flew down here with the tiniest kernel of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d be interested in hanging out a bit. Hooking up a few times in secret. That possibility gets less and less likely every hour that goes by in this place.
From the perspective of a city girl, a secret affair seems easy to pull off. Now that I’m here, on this tiny island, in this small resort, communing with this tight knit group of friends, I can see his hesitation.
Hell, we’ll be lucky to get through this dinner without throwing off some kind of vibe that everyone in the room picks up on.
I wait by the hostess station while Reina crosses over to the bar and lays her hand on Sam’s shoulder to get his attention. He turns and smiles down at her and then his gaze lifts to mine.
Even across the room, I can feel the impact of that gaze like a shot to my heart. My mind takes this opportunity to flash a few choice images from that night in Austin across the movie screen of my mind, and I lose the ability to breathe for a moment.
I pretty much have the whole night memorized, from the first touch on my love seat to the adorable way he curled around me in bed while assuring me he was going to get up and head back to his hotel. And every hard, wet, orgasmic moment in between.
I’m startled back into the present by the hostess saying something, and I smile over at her, nodding, even though I missed the words. She leads Fran and I toward a table near one of the windows overlooking the beach. Reina and Sam follow.
The table is set for four, and I choose a window seat, arranging my bag to hang on the back of the chair within reach. I don’t want to be involved with the decisions about where everyone else sits, so I busy myself checking my phone for a moment until everyone else is seated. When I glance back up, I find Reina across from me and Fran to my right. Sam is diagonal.
As far from me as he can get.
With a quiet sigh and forced smile, I turn to Fran, determined to make this evening fun—even if my heart is aching for the man across the table. “I had the biggest crush on Avery when I was a little girl.”
Fran and Reina both laugh in surprise, their faces lighting up at my admission.
Fran leans in conspiratorially. “I am here for all the embarrassing childhood stories. Don’t hold back.”
I smile back at her, happy to have broken the ice, but I’m grateful for the interruption of our server with the first wine of the evening. While it’s true that I idolized Avery and all my brother’s friends, I wouldn’t say I was privy to many of their embarrassing stories. Or any stories, really. They were all ten when I was born, coming into the world and leaving it irreparably changed. By the time I was old enough to really hold a conversation, they were all packing for college.
I distract myself from unwanted feelings from the past and present by arranging an artsy shot of my wine glass against the backdrop of the window, complete with rising colors from the impending sunset. I try out a few filters before capturing the moment, and when I look up, I find everyone watching me. And none of them have their phones in hand.
I glance quickly around the table and don’t see another phone at all.
In the city, it’s considered perfectly normal for everyone to have their phone face down on the table in front of them. As a matter of fact, if I joined someone for a meal out and didn’t see their phone on the table, I would worry they had seriously bad news or I was about to get dumped or something.
That doesn’t seem to be the case here. I put my phone down beside my napkin again and smile at everyone. I’ll try to keep my phone time to a minimum if that’s what everyone else is doing, but I’m hardly going to put it away. This meal is bound to be photogenic as hell. And I have content to create.
“I guess you guys all have phones full of tropical sunset wine glass shots already, huh?” I try to lighten the mood with a joke and the girls smile, but I can tell I missed the mark.
“Naomi, you’re going to love Raft. It’s a foodie’s dream, and every plate is worth a picture.” Sam’s words of familiarity, as if he knows me, are a surprise, and not just to me. The girls both glance over at him as silence falls over the table for a moment.
Reina jumps in to pick up the pieces. “I checked out your Instagram, and he’s totally right. You’ll have so many great pictures to post after tonight. And between Sam and I, we know just about everything about where the food came from and the small, local purveyors and fishermen who deliver it every day. Local sourcing and sustainability are important to the Raft dinner program.”
A now all-too-familiar dread mixed with sadness falls over me at the thought of my channel, but I shake it off. “I’m not posting at the moment, but I’m still gathering content for when I get back to it.”
I know they’re all dying to ask, so I wait. The silence turns awkward, and I glance down at my phone again, craving its familiar weight in my hand.
“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Fran offers.
I smile over at her in gratitude. The last thing I want is to ruin this meal with my own sob story.
“Maybe when I have a few drinks in me.”
“Well, that won’t be a problem here,” Sam muses as the server comes to top off our wine glasses. We haven’t even gotten the first course yet and we’ve all already made it through the first glass of wine.
I lift my glass in a cheers. “Nowhere to drive, right?”
After a few courses and a few more wine pairings, I’m settling in. Gone are the self-conscious worries from earlier. Gone is the dread over my future in the influencer scene. I’m just a girl, enjoying a super fancy meal with friends in paradise.
It feels good to let go. I still take pictures of every dish like they’re my newborn babies, but I also let myself enjoy the food and company.
It might be the best meal of my life, in both regards.
Reina is glowing with wine and more than happy to entertain us with stories about her and Dom’s early days. “The next morning, I get a knock at the front door and it’s two delivery men bringing me a brand-new mattress. Sweet gesture, but everyone was watching, and it was difficult to explain why I was getting a brand new bed and no one else was.”
“You couldn't just tell them that you were banging one of the owners and he needed to replace it for his old man back?” Fran asks and we all crack up.
“Nope. So I told them that everyone was getting a new one.”
“You didn’t?” I’m alive with the energy of the table now, happier than I’ve felt in years.
Reina’s nodding. “I sure did.”
“And the next day,” Sam cuts in, laughter lighting up his beautiful face, “we went to town and Dom was on a secret mission to get over a hundred mattresses imported to the island the following week.”
My mouth drops open in a wide grin. “So he told you about sleeping at Reina’s?”
“Of course not. He claimed that his kitchen staff wasn’ t well rested enough so he needed to get them all better beds,” Sam says laughing.
We’re still cracking up when the man in question strolls over to our table, arms crossed. “I’m getting noise complaints from the other guests about you four. Mind keeping it down?”
Even in his gruff scolding, I can see the soft edge of humor in his features. When Reina jumps up and throws herself into his arms, Dom’s face breaks into a contented grin.
I won’t say it’s the first time he’s ever smiled, but it might be the first I’ve witnessed. He doesn’t even try to hide it as he shoos Reina back to her chair and settles his attention on me. “Did you enjoy your meal?”
“It was incredible. I got some great pictures. I can send them to you if you want.”
“Send them to Sam. He’s the one in charge of advertising.”
My spirit falls a few notches and I gaze back down at my plate.
“Stop, Dom,” Reina chimes in. “You’re not fooling anyone.” She grabs one of my hands across the table. “Send him all the pictures. If you don’t, he’s just going to be in Sam’s office first thing pouring over them.”
“Sure,” I say. “No problem.”
“Why don’t we head down to the bar after dessert, and we can all look at them?” Fran pipes up. “Naomi promised to spill her drama once she got some drinks in her, and I’m guessing it’s getting pretty close to that time.” She turns to me, sly smile in place. “Am I right?”
She’s right about the drinks part. The story? Not so much.
I’m not sure I’m ever going to be ready to talk about what happened, but that’s not an option. I’m going to have to get comfortable talking about all this if I ever have a shot at re-starting my channel and making amends to my community. I may as well start practicing.
And maybe after Sam hears my plight, he’ll be more inclined to overlook certain other transgressions.
“One more drink will probably do it,” I say, and the girls squeal in delight.
I only glance at Dom for a moment, catching his slightly disapproving glare and looking quickly away—straight at Sam.
I wouldn’t call Sam’s look disapproving. He looks worried for me. Sad, even. It’s not exactly what I want him to be feeling toward me, but I suppose it’s better than angry.
Offended.
Exploited and objectified.
I let out a sigh and try to cover it with another big smile. “What’s this I hear about dessert?”