Chapter Twenty
The paradox of a fancy spa on a private island, of course, is that you are meant to immediately feel relaxed and calm, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been more stressed in my entire life.
Not to be dramatic, of course. It’s just that on my walk over, I can’t stop mentally tabulating all the ways I might completely fuck things up. Blaire was delightful and surprisingly down-to-earth, but she was an outsider. Today I have to breach the inner circle. I have to be in an intimate and chitchatty setting with West’s mother and sister. They could ask me something as simple as his shoe size and the only answer I’d be able to muster would be a wink and a “way above average.”
Much like the other buildings on the island, the spa prides itself on being eco-conscious and powered by solar and wind. The interiors are bamboo, reclaimed wood, and polished stone. It’s clear that the primary inspiration is water, which is creatively used, as a small stream cuts through the floor and meanders down the center of each room. Hydroponic plants cling to the surface of a large water feature that covers most of the main lobby wall, and you can see the roots stretching into the trickling fountains.
When I walk in, an employee greets me warmly and escorts me to the plush lounge where a cluster of women already sit in fluffy robes and slippers, sipping champagne. Conversation halts at my entrance, and even though I’m wearing a Tom Ford sundress and Givenchy sunglasses that cost more than my rent, I still feel like I don’t belong here. No one in this room has their natural hair color, I’m sure of it, but none of these women would dare go bubblegum pink. Every head looks perfectly coiffed and natural: sun-kissed gold, inky black, warm mahogany.
I’m sure, too, that no one in this room has ever had to choose between filling up their gas tank and buying groceries. I’m sure no one in this room has ever been afraid to open their mail or cried under their kitchen table over the stress of unpaid bills. I’m sure no one here has ever walked into a room and wondered whether they belong.
I suddenly want West in here with me so acutely that it feels like a fist pressed against my breastbone.
But then Charlie sees me, hurrying over to throw an arm around my neck and pull me close. “Anna! You’re here!” She pulls back and looks at me, smiling with genuine warmth. “I have been so excited for sister time! Everyone!” She turns, keeping her arm around my shoulders. “This is my sister-in-law Anna!”
The word sister presses on something else in my chest. As an adult, I have never, not for a day, wished I had a different childhood. There wasn’t much money, sure, but there was always laughter, love, and fun. My dad was the only child of a single mother who passed away too young, so what I didn’t have was siblings, grandparents, cousins. Hearing Reagan call me Auntie plucked at that hidden thing, a secret wish I had to expand my own circle, to be connected the way only real family can. And it’s not his fault, of course, but it’s not lost on me that the very thing West has tried to distance himself from—his family—is the one thing that I always wanted. Just… not all of them.
I have to remind myself that this non-thing between us is temporary anyway, because with Charlie’s arm wrapped tightly around my waist and her joy like a living creature in the room, it’s easy to forget.
As a result of Charlie’s obvious approval, faces that were pinched or distant begin to relax into smiles. Murmurs of “Oh, this must be Liam’s wife” reverberate around us. Some women even look at me with grudging envy. I know it can’t be true, but it feels like the air itself warms a few degrees.
Janet unfolds herself from her chair, floating like a vampire across to me, where she delivers a kiss to the air on either side of my face. “Hello, darling. Nice of you to come.”
“Thank you for including me.”
Stepping back, she takes in my outfit. “I love that you will just wear anything. Good for you, dear. Really,” she says, patting my cheek. “So brave.”
“Um…” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Thank you.”
With a wan smile, she drifts off as the spa manager peeks in to coordinate who is doing which treatments with whom. Charlie gives me one more squeeze before returning to a couch full of adorable twentysomethings who are almost exactly my age but somehow feel a decade younger.
And I am once again standing alone, feeling like a complete impostor.
A group of deep voices rises up as the groom’s party passes the women’s lounge, and I catch Jake’s eye. With a little smile, he makes a detour, peeking his head into our lair. “Is everyone decent?” he calls flirtatiously.
A few giggles erupt from the couch, and I meet him in the doorway, grinning at him. “I think you have a few fans in here,” I say quietly.
“It’s the Leighs,” he explains.
“I’m sorry, the who?”
He lifts his chin to indicate where the bulk of Charlie’s bridal party sits, their size-zero bodies all smooshed together on the sofa. “Ashley, Haylie, Kayleigh, and Just Leigh,” he says.
“Surely you jest.”
“I jest not.”
“How many have you bedded?” I ask in a whisper. Jake squints at me, and I gasp. “No.”
His squint turns into a wince. “Yes?”
“All four?”
“Only three,” he corrects.
“?‘Only’?”
“How are things going with Liam?”
“Nice redirection, you slut,” I say, laughing.
“Who’s the slut, you hickey demon?”
“Oh, you saw that, did you?”
Jake laughs. “We all saw it.”
“He’s… surprisingly adorable.”
Jake’s expression flattens. “Adorable? He’s a cyborg.”
“Well, whoever managed the installation of his emotional programming did a great job.”
“I think that’s called ‘therapy.’?”
A shadow appears behind Jake, approaching with determination through the spa’s small lobby. Jake startles as West appears at his side, breathless, looking down at me. The room behind me quiets.
“Hello, Liam,” Jake says dryly.
“Hi,” West says, putting a hand over his brother’s face and unceremoniously moving him aside. He gazes down at me, saying more gently now, “Hi.”
“Hello.” I smile. “Did I forget the lunch you packed me for school?”
A tiny smile is there and gone. “I wanted to tell you to enjoy yourself at the spa today.”
“We already did the ‘Have a good times,’?” I whisper.
But I can’t help it, I press my hand to his stomach, wrapping my fist around the soft fabric of his T-shirt. This is all very cute and unexpected. I look briefly at Jake like, See? Adorable.
With a smirk, Jake wanders off. But West touches a finger to my chin, redirecting my attention to his face. And before I can say anything, he bends, setting his lips softly on mine. One soft kiss, and then another. My blood turns to smoke, and I lean in, chasing his lips when he slowly straightens.
“You left before I could do that,” he says.
Is this all for show? Or is this real? It’s so wild that I can’t tell at all. He’s said it quietly—it can’t have been for anyone else to hear—but then again, he’s found me in a crowded room. I pull on the reins of my emotions, reminding myself to not sprint ahead. Kisses aren’t feelings.
But… what if they are?
“I…” I clear my throat. “Thank you for fixing my mistake.”
Those honeyed eyes crinkle at the corners in a tiny smile. “You’re welcome.”
The intensity of West’s expression is like an aphrodisiac. If he doesn’t get out of here soon, I might end up slobbering all over his neck again, but this time in front of his mother and sister.
“Now go get pampered,” I tell him, lifting my chin in the direction Jake wandered off. “And relax. Get those hobbit feet scrubbed.”
Liam looks like he’d rather eat a large rock, but he does, stepping back and finally turning to walk toward the men’s lounge. I’m sorry to see him leave but allow myself the pleasure of watching him go. Whew, dat ass.
I turn around to find a roomful of women pretending to not have watched that entire interaction, but after that kiss, I honestly don’t care.