Chapter 15
Four Years Ago
“A LDEN, WHAT IS THIS place?” Chloe asked. A white SUV had picked them up at the Cancún Airport with a sign that read Mr. Chandler . During the two-hour car ride south, they all took turns referring to Alden as Mr. Chandler, but when Chloe saw the house they were staying in, she forgot all about the joke.
“It’s paradise,” Sloane sighed. The entrance archway was covered in bougainvillea vine, purple flowers creating a canopy for them to walk under. At the end, there was a butler dressed in white linen with a tray of cocktails and additional staff to carry everyone’s bags.
“It’s Rufus’s place,” Alden explained. “Don’t break shit, you guys. I need to stay on his good side.”
“You work ninety-hour weeks. Rufus has a lot of work to do to get on my good side,” Sloane said.
They all knew the last year had been brutal for Alden Chandler, tech boy wonder. His app launched two weeks ago. And after the chaos of launch and the flurry of last-minute crashes and bugs, Alden looked like he was barely standing. So when his lead investor, Rufus, told him to grab some friends and hop on a jet to Mexico for a week, Alden jumped at the chance.
When Sloane called and told everyone about the last-minute plans, it took zero convincing to get the group on board. Luke hesitated for maybe a minute or two, because he was working toward a VP promotion at his investment bank, but after a quick call to his boss convincing him that this was an excellent networking opportunity, Luke packed his bag.
Marianne called in sick. And saintly Noah stayed behind to go along with the story, because they couldn’t both call in sick to the high school where they taught. Chloe, Wyatt, and Sloane had creative jobs, so they had more flexibility.
“You did it,” Chloe said, elbowing Alden’s side.
“I did. And as soon as I’ve caught up on a year’s worth of sleep, I can’t wait to do it again.”
“Do what again?” Sloane asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Kiss my girlfriend,” Alden said, walking toward Sloane with a renewed energy, swinging her in the air.
“I swear, Alden. If you were telling Chloe that you can’t wait to build another one of these app things, I’m going to lose it.”
Alden shook his head. “Let’s celebrate. We’ve got months of pent-up celebrating to get out.”
Sloane grabbed a cocktail off the tray the butler was holding and went into the house, assuming the role of hostess and asking to see the rooms. Most everyone followed, but Alden stayed back, leaning against one of the elaborate stone columns flanking the entryway. It almost seemed like his body was too tired to make the walk through the door.
Chloe stayed behind and nudged Alden. “You missed all the fancy snacks on the private jet.”
“I know, I passed out. What was the best?”
“The chocolate soufflé. I can’t even make one of those in a real oven. How did they make that on an airplane?”
“Nice,” Alden said, smiling, his eyes barely open, his body still not moving.
“When’s the last time you slept?”
“What month is it?”
“April.”
“I slept in a bed on Christmas Eve because Sloane said Jesus deserved better from me. So December-ish.”
“Alden. That’s terrible.”
“You sound like Sloane.”
“Well, she’s right. You’re a broken man.”
“A broken man who just launched his first company at twenty-five.”
Chloe smiled. “True. I cooked dinner instead of ordering takeout last week. These are the accomplishments of most twenty-five-year-olds. You’re such an overachiever. But I’m proud of you. We’re all proud of you.”
“On a scale of one to me tripping on the stage at graduation, how mad do you think Sloane is?”
“Honestly? Zero. I know she misses you and maybe …” Chloe said out of the side of her mouth, “she’s a little resentful of your addiction to late-night Rufus texts.” Chloe quickly added, “But she’s your biggest cheerleader.”
Alden sighed. “I know. I’m so lucky.” Alden’s eyes fully opened and he nervously glanced around. “Want in on a secret?”
“Always,” Chloe said, rubbing her hands together conspiratorially.
Alden reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box containing an obscenely large diamond ring.
“No way,” Chloe squealed.
“I’m going to propose.”
“Umm … does this deviate from Sloane’s timeline?”
“Absolutely. Screw the timeline. I launched my company. I love her. I want to get married.”
“And you’re doing it this week?”
“Yes.”
“She’s never going to expect it.”
“I know. Predictions on her response?”
“Depends on your plan of execution. She’s obviously going to say yes. But it could be an eye-roll-you-know-you-were-supposed-to-wait-until-we-dated-for-a-full-year yes, or a hell yes .
“First of all, Sloane never says hell.”
“True.”
“Second, I know her. I have plans.” Alden wiggled his eyebrows.
“You can’t do it in bed,” Chloe quickly replied.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re both going to be asked about this proposal for the rest of your lives, and I guarantee it is important to Sloane that there is a good, southern mother–appropriate story attached. This cannot be a we had sex and I said yes situation.”
Alden seemed to consider Chloe’s comment for a single second before waving his hand in the air. “The ring is too good. She’s going to love it.” Alden walked toward the house and grabbed his own welcome cocktail.
Chloe followed, smiling. The ring was exactly what Sloane wanted, a classic Harry Winston, emerald-cut center stone with tapered side baguettes, too many carats for Chloe to estimate. Sloane would probably know its exact clarity immediately. All Chloe knew was that the ring shone almost as brightly as Alden’s exhausted smile.
Chloe also knew that this was going to be a week they would never forget.
The next morning, Sloane and Alden emerged from the giant bedroom, their lips barely leaving each other’s mouths as everyone else groaned and Sloane waved around a heavy finger, bliss on her face as she plucked a slice of pineapple from the platter of fresh fruit arranged on the kitchen counter.
“Guess what?” Sloane teased, wiggling her perfectly manicured hand.
Alden blurted. “We had sex and she said yes.”
Chloe threw a grape at Alden’s head. “I told you not to do that.”
“I considered your advice and then rejected it,” Alden said, smiling.
“Why?” Chloe asked as she reached for Sloane’s hand, fawning over the ring.
“Because I know my future wife.” Alden bent and kissed Sloane on the lips with confidence. “Hey, Luke and Wyatt, race you guys to the beach?”
Luke and Wyatt took turns congratulating Sloane and kissing her on the cheek before the three boys took off, leaving Marianne and Chloe to get all the details from Sloane.
“You’re engaged!” Marianne squealed.
“I’m engaged.” Sloane said this with a faux solemnity, before breaking into a Cheshire-cat grin.
“And the proposal?” Chloe tentatively asked.
“It was perfect.” Sloane walks around the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee before settling in to tell her friends the story. “I mean, I will fabricate an entire alternate version that we will tell our mothers and future children. All of you will be sworn to secrecy about this proposal lie.” Sloane picked up a piece of papaya. “I’m too excited to get derailed by minor details.”
The rest of the week was bliss. Because Rufus’s house came with a staff, each morning, they awoke to platters of fresh fruit, bowls of yogurt and granola, platters of eggs. A steady stream of margaritas appeared poolside each afternoon along with bowls of guacamole and ceviche and crispy tortillas still warm from the fryer. They ate dinner at a restaurant in town that had rope swings instead of barstools and returned to a perfectly clean house with glasses of cinnamon horchata and stacks of fluffy white towels next to the pool.
The boys spent the mornings trying to surf, but only Wyatt was able to ride a wave. They spent afternoons snorkeling in cenotes, riding horses on the beach, and hiking Mayan ruins, every detail of these excursions planned and arranged by Rufus’s staff. Some afternoons, Luke would wander off to that bar in town, and Chloe imagined him sipping a Modelo on the rope swings and hopefully not thinking about how the market was performing. Those afternoons without him gave Chloe time to wedding daydream with Sloane and Marianne.
It quickly became clear that Sloane’s wedding was not going to be anything like the simple ceremony that Marianne and Noah had. But that didn’t seem to bother Marianne; they were all having fun fantasy-planning the type of affair Sloane imagined.
Mostly, Wyatt and Alden stayed out of these conversations. Wyatt read his book and Alden slept. He was doing a noble job catching up on his lost sleep.
Marianne was the one who brought it up first. As they nibbled on shrimp tostadas and sipped pale pink palomas, she asked Sloane, “In that master plan of yours, did you ever think you’d be engaged to Alden?”
Chloe watched as Alden opened one eye, eager to hear Sloane’s answer.
“Maybe,” Sloane said.
“Liar,” Alden mumbled and closed his eyes again. “But that’s okay with me. I have you now.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” Chloe gently asked. They’d all been friends for so long, and for so many years, Sloane very clearly described the man she was going to marry, the timeline for that relationship, and her plans for the future. Alden was not six feet tall (and never would be), he was not a lawyer or a doctor, and he did not have any Roman numerals at the end of his name. But mostly, he wasn’t the take-charge type of person Sloane had gravitated to in prior relationships. He preferred leaning back and watching Sloane’s expertly planned routes. Chloe didn’t know if Alden ever tried to be what Sloane wanted, or if he always knew that he was what she needed.
Alden seemed to reluctantly open his eyes. “Nope. Plans change. Love does too. None of us are the same people today. We weren’t right for each other then. But we are now, and that’s all that matters.”
Alden went back to sleep. Chloe looked around the room, wishing Luke was there. Because then he could have heard what Alden said and Chloe could have asked if he agreed.