Chapter 46 Bathroom Conversations
BATHROOM CONVERSATIONS
ASHLEY
By the time our driver pulls up to the winery—gravel crunching—I’m already reaching for the handle. The car barely slows before I throw the door open and hop out, feet hitting ground, heart pumping.
“I need to check on the flowers,” I say over my shoulder. Not to mention find a bathroom where I can wash up, since I feel like I’m wearing half the dust and grime in all of Ensenada. An actual shower is probably too much to ask for.
Beckett is right behind me. “I’ll find the boys,” he says, “And maybe an incinerator for these shorts…”
A laugh catches in my throat. God, even now.
“Hey.” Something in his voice, softer now, gentler, slows me down.
I glance back.
He’s looking at me with the expression that I’ve always considered to be mine. It’s not quite a grin, not cocky. But… more than content.
Sure.
He wraps his fingers around my wrist, massaging my pulse with his thumb, and some of the frantic energy in my body settles.
“Save a dance for me?” he asks.
My throat tightens. “Always.”
“Damn straight.”
After a beat, he lets go and together we jog across the courtyard, toward the stone building that, up until today, I’ve only seen pictures of.
Inside, it’s cool. The scents of candles and incense tease the air, and beneath the hushed quiet, there’s a bubbling kind of anticipation.
And then a distant giggle.
“Sounds like the boys are that way.”
“On it.” Beckett gives me one last look, a little searching, but when I nod, he does too and then pivots and disappears down the hall.
I hear another set of high-pitched voices drifting from the opposite direction—but first… yes. A bathroom.
It doesn’t take long to spot the door marked Senoritas, and I duck inside, grateful for a moment of quiet.
The thick stone walls mute the outside noise instantly.
Inside, it’s bright and unexpectedly lovely—terracotta tile, white accents, a row of spotless mirrors lining one wall.
The sharp, herbal scent of eucalyptus lingers in the air, fresh and calming.
I slip into the far stall, lock it, and sit down—more to sit than anything else. My heart hasn’t quite caught up with the day yet. My brain definitely hasn’t.
I hear the outer door swing open.
“—I’m just saying, it could’ve been a lot worse,” Courtney is saying as she walks in, heels clicking lightly against the floor. “At least Aurum went down before more people got sucked in.”
Aurum Micro-PIPE. I make the connection immediately, but before I can think beyond that, Mrs. Grady’s voice echoes around the room.
“Plenty did get sucked in,” she says, not unkind, just… blunt. “So many people invested. Life savings. Retirement accounts. The news says at least a dozen executives could be indicted.” A pause… and then, “Midtown is involved. But if he were involved, he wouldn’t be here, would he?”
“He?” Courtney echoes.
“You know who I mean.”
I imagine their eyes meeting in the mirror, meaningfully.
“It’s a massive firm, Christine,” Courtney says. “Layers and layers of departments. There’s no way he’d be on this cruise if he was involved.”
“True.” The door to the next stall opens and closes. “I’m just so glad you steered us clear of it,” Mrs. Grady says. “If you hadn’t, our venture would have been dead before we even started.”
“Not to mention we’d have hurt hundreds of innocent people.” Courtney lets out a laugh. “But it just didn’t feel right, you know? ‘Guaranteed yield’ anything gives me hives.”
I hear the snap of a compact opening, the soft clicking of plastic as someone digs through a makeup bag.
A toilet flushes. Water runs. Perfectly normal stuff. Like they’re talking about the weather instead of something that could implode my life. The boys’ lives.
Our family.
Maybe.
“So what about that other fund you mentioned?” Mrs. Grady asks, tone light, almost bored. “The one with the municipal bonds? Do you still think it’s—”
“Christine,” Courtney cuts in. “We are absolutely leaving business at home for the rest of the day. This is Noah’s wedding day.” Paper towel dispenser.
“Fair point.” Mrs. Grady laughs, softer this time.
“Come on,” Courtney says. “Let’s go see what we can do to help.”
Before they leave, Mrs. Grady’s voice dips, more vulnerable. “I’m just glad you’re here. I always thought…”
“I know,” Courtney says quietly. “But I really am happy for him. For them. You should be too. Luna’s good for him, I can tell. And she’s really nice.”
A long sigh. “Maybe,” Mrs. Grady admits grudgingly.
“You and I will always be friends," Courtney says. “But you have got to make room for your new daughter-in-law.”
The door opens. Closes.
I’m alone again.
I stare at the stall door, heart pounding harder than it should. My body feels too hot and too cold at the same time.
Aurum Micro-PIPE. Midtown. Indictments. So not just regulatory scrutiny anymore.
I don’t know what it all means. A part of me wants to pull out my phone and look up the latest articles, but…
I don’t.
There’ll be plenty of time for that later.
I force myself to stand, unlock the stall, and step out into what now feels like too-bright of a light. My reflection looks exactly as I’d expect with the way I feel—tired, a little blotchy, my new hairstyle looking frizzy and windblown.
I set my bag on the counter, unzip it, and am immediately greeted by the smell of the soiled towel.
“Fantastic,” I mutter, pushing it away.
I dampen a wad of paper towel with cool water and press it to my cheeks, under my eyes, along my hairline, the back of my neck. Another pass and I almost feel human.
My breathing evens out.
It’s not a shower, but it’s as close as I’m going to get.
I go back to the bag and fish out my deodorant, brush, and travel-sized perfume.
I swipe the miniature stick under my arms, spritz my neck and wrists, then run the brush through my hair with quick, practiced strokes until it looks less like I’m experiencing a meltdown and more like intentional waves.
When I finally look down, I notice it—my hands are shaking.
I clench them once. Twice. Grip the edge of the counter until my fingers steady.
“This is Luna’s wedding,” I whisper to my reflection.
Even though they’re already married.
I square my shoulders, shove everything back into the bag (gross bits tossed in the trash), and walk out.