Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sam
W e do a couple weddings a season here at The Sands, or we have for the last few years, since Fran and Avery teamed up. I also ran high end resorts in the States and abroad before we took this dive into resort ownership, and those properties were popular destinations for weddings. And even after all that, I have never before seen anything like this wedding.
I narrow my eyes at the security guard positioned at the front door to my lobby as he asks me for my ID. “I’m the owner and GM of this property. Why are you checking IDs at my door?”
The man’s face remains stoic, taking his job seriously. “I’m just monitoring the entrances while my team transfers the wine from the secure transport to the resort refrigeration.”
My eyebrows raise a bit. “And then you’ll be standing guard outside the cooler door as well?”
“Yes, sir.”
I nod, letting the reality of the day ahead sink in. “I’ll be sure to let the restaurant staff know to get you a meal. If you can’t move from your post, don’t hesitate to ask my staff for food or water if you need it, okay? Dehydration can sneak up on you if you’re not used to the heat.”
I see a slight crack in his stern facade. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
I take a long, deep breath as I step through the doorway into the lobby, trying to prepare myself for whatever could be waiting for me inside.
The first person I see, however, is exactly who I was hoping for.
Naomi’s long waves bounce on her bare shoulders as she comes around the corner. Her whole face lights up when she sees me. It’s been a busy few days for both of us, and we haven't managed to see each other.
I wonder briefly if that guard would stand watch outside my office for a half hour, but I shove the thought away.
“Morning stranger,” I say with a smile.
She returns my smile conspiratorially, giving me as much of an embrace with her eyes and body language as I’m going to get today. I allow memories of her skin under my hands to creep into my mind for just a moment before shaking them off.
The last thing I need right now is a boner.
“This is crazy, Sam. I knew it was going to be, especially after watching them all arrive yesterday and seeing their stuff. And their clothes! You are not going to believe the clothes on these people. I want everything.” Her eyes go starry for a minute before she snaps back down to earth. “But also, I don’t.”
I watch as she glances down at her simple tank top dress, sage green and falling loosely to just above her knees. The straps are wide enough to cover the straps of the bra I know she’s wearing from sneaking glances, and the neckline falls low enough for comfort in this heat, but not too low as to be inappropriate at work. She’s the picture of island business casual.
She looks back up at me, and I can’t quite read the expression there—and not for lack of trying. I want to know everything about this woman, starting with each and every thing that goes on inside her head.
“I didn’t even have to steam this dress, let alone iron it. I passed a woman earlier when I was getting coffee down at Raft who was wearing these super high waisted red pants and I almost sat down right there in the hallway to search the internet for them, but then I thought about how long it must have taken her to get them to look like that before she put them on.” The expression on her face now is obvious amazement. “It was like seven-forty-five in the morning. Can you imagine steaming pants before eight a.m.?”
I lean in just a bit closer, until my lips are inches from her ear. “I saw the red pants woman, princess. And she’s got nothing on you.”
Naomi’s surprised little gasp and matching blush make me grind my teeth a bit as I step back to put the appropriate amount of distance back between us. The last thing I want to do is be further away from her perfect skin and the scent of her hair, but we’ve got a long, crazy day ahead of us and I need to keep my head in the game.
“Anyway,” she says, smoothing her dress and shaking off the same fluster that I’m feeling. “That’s not why I came up here.”
“Oh, something more pressing than the perfect pair of red pants?”
She narrows her eyes good naturedly at my teasing. “Yes. Fran sent me up to see if you could help with getting the long tables out of storage. She said some of them were better than others and you would be the one to ask? ”
I am, indeed, the one to ask about which of the identical folding tables in storage are the best.
I nod. “Let me just drop my stuff off in my office.”
The day careens down the track from there. I help with the tables, then get pulled away to assign tasks at the wedding team meeting, and then I’m back up in my office, on the phone with the local transport company, trying to get our trucks to roll into the resort driveway on time.
The wedding starts at two p.m., the hottest part of the day, but also the exact time that coordinates with some kind of astrological event that’s very important to the bride and groom, so we’ve constructed large shade sails over the rows of chairs set up on the beach. I walk the whole wedding set up with my clipboard, noting places where I think Fran could take a moment and double check some of the crew’s work.
It’s nearly eleven before I finally run into Avery, who’s looking a bit more flustered than usual. I brace myself for whatever could have finally gotten under the skin of my notoriously even-keeled friend.
“Sam, these people are nuts. I’ve been running up and down stairs all morning trying to help housekeeping and Reef answer all the calls. Everyone needs lattes in their rooms and their beds made by the staff first thing in the morning. I’m not going to be sad when this one’s over.”
I grimace in solidarity with him. I guess having an easy to work with wedding couple did not translate to their friends and family being equally easygoing. Poor Ave is always on guest relations at these big events, while his partner in business and in life, Fran, runs the whole rest of the show.
“Let me know if it gets out of hand, and I’ll see if there is any staff I can free up elsewhere to help run stairs.”
“Nah, now that they’ve all had their beds made while they drank coffee and watched, they’re starting to head downstairs. You’re going to need all the staff down there you can get.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
I turn to hurry back down to the pool deck adjacent to Reef, our casual fare café, to make sure they’re ready for the guests but Avery stops me.
“We’re all flying to Honduras, to Pristine Bay, after this shindig wraps up, if you want to join.”
He tosses the invite out casually enough, but I can almost picture him and Dom roshamboing to decide who would talk to me about the vacation. It’s not like I get upset about the guys taking these little trips, but I never join them. For whatever reason, they have made it a priority to always invite me, no matter how often I beg off.
“It’s going to be fun. Fran and Reina are coming, and I’m sure we’ll talk Naomi into it.”
I search his tone for any kind of implication but come up empty. He’s just reporting information.
My mind, however, is reeling.
If Naomi’s going on the trip, I want to go.
On the other hand…it would be really, really difficult to get any time alone with her if all my nosy friends have nothing to do but lay around all day and watch us. Right now, the only thing our secret relationship is hinging on is the fact that my best friends are complete workaholics. Oh, and this insane wedding.
How’s it going to be when the craziness passes and it’s back to smooth sailing at The White Sands? Back to intimate dinner parties, bonfires, and trips to town for lunch and football games?
This might be the last real weekend of privacy we have together. I want it. Even if we have to give up this thing between us soon, I want this.
“I’ll probably just stick around here, make sure things get back to normal smoothly. You know, the resort doesn’t stop running when these weddings end, Ave.”
Avery just smiles his knowing smile, not buying a second of my bullshit. “Whatever, man. Just think about it, okay? We booked you a room just in case.”
I turn and head toward the stairs without answering. I don’t know how often they book a room for me and let it sit empty when I don’t join them on a spontaneous trip around the globe, but I have a feeling it’s most of the time. It would be pretty bad if I finally agreed to hop on the helicopter one of these times and found myself sleeping on someone’s pullout sofa when the exclusive, high-end resort was booked when we arrived.
And it’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture. The guys have always worked to include me in everything from holidays to vacations to meals in five-star restaurants. They’ve been doing it since I lucked my way into the exclusive private school they all attended.
My mother and I lived in the next town over, sharing a one-bedroom apartment she could only afford by working two jobs. Avery, Dominic, and Ben adopted me on my first day of school, swooping in as I sat alone in the cafeteria, trying to eat my bagged lunch in peace, bringing with them a loud, rambunctious, whirlwind of arguing, teasing, scheming, and money. So, so much money.
That first month of fourth grade at Simonson Prep was my introduction to the fact that I was poor. Prior to boarding the half-hour long bus ride to the academy and being adopted by the guys, I’d been surrounded by kids and families in similar situations to my own. I played with the children of the people my mom found to watch me while she worked, and every one of them lived in an apartment.
I can distinctly remember the first time I went to Ben’s house, where we spent a lot of our time because his parent’s estate was bordered by acres and acres of wild woods, the dream of any nine year old boy. We were picked up at school by a man I assumed was Ben’s dad, even though it was strange how he called the guy Fred and Fred didn’t talk to us at all, not even to ask about our day.
We rolled up the long driveway to a house, that looked a lot like the school we just left, and I almost asked if it was his apartment building. Luckily for my little boy pride, I kept my mouth shut.
Fred opened the doors to the town car, and I ran after the guys through the massive front doors into what turned out to be one house. For one family. We went straight to the kitchen where we were greeted not by Ben’s mom, but the housekeeper, who was waiting for us with an entire meal of snacks and drinks.
It was months before I met any of their parents. Their lives were run entirely by staff members, and they all treated these adults like family and acted like it was normal. I tried to play along, but I was just pretending to understand.
That was just the beginning of nearly a decade of pretending to understand. To understand that people existed with so much excess when others had nothing. To understand that some families got to have their own pools and planes and yards bigger than parks all to themselves and didn’t have to share with anyone. To understand that some kids didn’t worry about anything.
This is not to say that I wasn’t grateful. Hell, I’m still grateful. The opportunities I had in life that were directly tied to the relationships I made during those years are plentiful.
Avery’s father recommended me to Cornell, where I was guided into the Hotel Administration program, a decision that set me on the course to resort ownership.
Ben’s mother got my own mother a position at the local hospital in our town that had a day shift schedule and paid enough for her to let go of her second job.
Dom’s family was always going on vacation, and all of us boys were invited. I got to see parts of the world that the other people in my apartment building could only dream of visiting.
I laugh to myself now, remembering how often I hopped on a private jet and headed off to some fantastic destination, probably not more than five feet away from Naomi, the very person I’m now about to try to convince to stay home with me. I never paid her much attention; she was young enough that she occupied a different universe as me and the guys.
But I can’t help but wonder. Was she okay?
I shake it off as I reach the bottom of the wide, concrete staircase that runs between the two resort towers, leading down to the massive, central pool area and deck. The last thing I need right now is to let my mind wander. There will be plenty of time to stew over all the wasted years I could have spent with Naomi after this event goes off without a hitch.
I needn’t have worried. I’m sucked right into the whirlwind of troubleshooting, decisionmaking, and mediation that comes with the territory of being GM here at The Sands. It’s the perfect combination of my unique skill sets. My flow state. My favorite place to be.
Or it was my favorite place. Now when I think of my happy place, all that comes to mind is that moment locked in the shower stall with Naomi. My arms around her body as the hot water mixed with cool rain, perfectly encapsulating us in a moment in time.
It’s not that I would ever give up my position at The Sands. Not willingly anyway. But I’m starting to wonder if there might be more to life. I’ve always assumed I could have both. The Sands and my own little family.
But what if I had to choose?
I suck in a long, slow breath as a moment of complete clarity washes over me. I know what my decision would be, and I can hardly believe it.