The Paradise Problem

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Anna’s strides are so long, I have to jog to join her at the transition from restaurant steps to beach sand, where I catch her wrist but don’t use the contact to slow her down or try to bring her back. I wouldn’t dare. Instead, I slide my hand a few inches down her arm, entwining her fingers with mine.

It’s awkward walking on sand with our hands joined, but neither of us loosens our grip. Honestly, I feel sick. Sick over how entitled my parents are, sick over how silent Alex, Jake, and Charlie remained throughout all of it. Sick over that level of flippant privilege happening in front of the children. Sick over being a part of this family at all anymore.

And sick with worry that this was a bridge too far for Anna. That I’m too closely associated with something so horrible. When I glance over at her, her nostrils are flared, jaw tight, and I see the way she swallows, like she’s fighting tears.

“Almost done,” I tell her. “We’ll be home soon.”

“There are people out there who have to choose between buying food and getting their prescriptions filled because money is so tight, and your family is buying an entire house because a pipe burst in the honeymoon rental. It’s gross,” she gasps, looking away so I won’t see her lose the battle against crying.

“It is. I’m so sorry I brought you here.”

“I’m not. Or… I am?” She lets out a coughing laugh, wiping her nose with her free hand. “I don’t even know what to feel after that. I want to have met you again. I want whatever this is between us, and we wouldn’t have it if we hadn’t come here. And truthfully, I let myself enjoy the fairy tale of this. Everything about this experience is seductive—the island, the food, the parties, the spa, these clothes. But is it worth it?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I feel like I lost some innocence here that maybe I shouldn’t have held on to, but even if it made me naive, I’ll miss it. I wish I could still believe somewhere inside me that terrible rich people like this didn’t actually exist. That they didn’t view people like my father and me with such disdain. They would have gotten along swimmingly with my mother.”

This lands a crushing weight in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

Instead of turning toward the bungalow, Anna lets go of my hand and walks straight out to the water, wading in a few yards, until the gentle waves reach her knees. I’m not sure if she needs a moment alone or not, but when she speaks again, it’s quietly enough that I have to follow, letting the water wash over my shins.

“What did you say?”

“I sold my paintings,” she says.

Warmth bleeds into my limbs. Holy fuck, I’d wondered if that had been the call that had sent her up and away from the table. “Anna—yes!”

“All three of them at the exhibit.”

Her joy is palpable, and if it were any other moment, I would be lifting her in the air, spinning her in my arms, joking that no virgin sacrifices were required. “That’s—that’s amazing.”

“Yeah.”

A gull calls overhead, and at the sound of her flat, defeated tone, I lean forward to get a good look at her face. “You don’t look happy.”

“I am. I’m thrilled.” She turns her watery brown eyes up to me. “But it’s depressing, you know? To feel such a victory over a few thousand dollars. The champagne at breakfast was probably more than that.”

I shake my head. “That isn’t—that’s not the point.” Stepping in front of her, I cup her face. “Your paintings—”

“No, no, don’t get me wrong. I’m so happy. It means something huge for me. Even if it’s just a start, it’s wonderful. And I’m not so naive as to think there aren’t enormous divides in income around this world, but I’ve never been so squarely confronted with it. The past three years have been so hard, not knowing, with all the bills….” She swallows, shaking her head and giving me a weak smile. “I just needed a few fall-apart minutes.”

I nod and bend, resting my lips on hers. When I pull back, it’s only so I can meet her eyes. At this moment, we are the only two people on the island. Does she feel that, too? I want to transport her away from here. “Take as many fall-apart minutes as you need.”

“I really do want to enjoy the wedding today,” she says, wiping her face and working to compose herself. “I want to finish what we came here to do. I want to absorb the beauty of this amazing place. I want to let myself enjoy whatever else it has to offer before I leave and return to a life that is wonderful even if it’s sometimes hard.”

I kiss her again. “This is a perfect goal. We’re almost done. We’ll go relax in the bungalow, get changed, attend the wedding, and duck out as early as we can. Tomorrow we can skip the brunch. Tomorrow afternoon, we head home. We’ll leave this beautiful island and the mess of my family behind.”

Anna nods in my hands and stretches to kiss me. “I adore this island. I hate the mess. But I really, really, really like you.”

I smile against her lips. “I really, really, really like you, too.”

IN THE FINAL FEWminutes before we leave for the wedding, I walk out to the balcony, wanting to soak up the view. For as mortifying as my family has been, the island truly is paradise, and being here with Anna has been one of the most wonderful experiences of my lifetime. After breakfast, we napped for a few hours, then lazily roused ourselves, making love and showering. But our mood dipped again as we began the slow march toward today’s main event. I know I should be happy—it’s my sister’s wedding—but mostly I just want to get it over with. And when I hear Anna’s footsteps approaching, my first thought is that it didn’t take her very long to get ready. My second thought is that I’m glad; she should treat today as a formality.

My third thought… well, actually, I don’t have a third thought. Because when I turn and see her, my brain empties, my body ignites.

Anna has worn tiny minidresses, slinky silk gowns, and low-cut evening dresses that sent my mind racing down filthy tracks. But this dress isn’t anything like that. While other women will likely be wearing muted lace, beachy neutrals, conservative chiffon, Anna’s dress is a statement. The one-shouldered silk gown is softly pleated, with bright teal at the top that transitions into blue, then purple, then into a flowing skirt of pink and orange, ending at her feet with a brilliant, flaming crimson.

Go ahead and look, it says. Stare.

Speechless, I approach, cupping her shoulders and sending my hands down her long, soft arms. I bend, kissing her bare shoulder. When I close my eyes, I feel momentarily dizzy. It’s too soon to feel what I’m feeling, but I let it wash through me anyway, because it solidifies my resolve to get this precious woman out of here as soon as humanly possible.

I KNOW HOW MUCHmoney my family has. In abstract terms, at least, I know that it is in the billions. Alex got a Lamborghini Gallardo for his eighteenth birthday; Charlie got a Friesian horse from the tooth fairy. Hell, she got two whole houses as wedding gifts. And without really batting an eye, I agreed to pay Anna a hundred thousand dollars to tell a lie.

I know the absurdity; I can see it, even if sometimes only in theory.

But the scale of this wedding is unbelievable even to me. Along the path to the black sand cove, every tree drips with garlands of pearls, crystals, and tiny twinkling lights. Delicate glass chandeliers tinkle from the branches of mangrove trees that sway along to the ocean’s gentle rhythm. Swags of bamboo and layers of lush greenery drape every chair; columns are topped with towering vases of white king protea, cream roses, and orchids, more strands of sparkling crystal spilling from their lips.

And there is an aisle, not just a demarcation with petals or branches: a stretch of pure white marble has been meticulously set in the black sand. It’s lined in flickering candles and ends with three wide stairs, which lead to a raised circular stage that will function as the altar overlooking the waves crashing against the shores of the cove. Guests won’t be sitting in folding chairs during the ceremony; there are rows of neatly aligned vintage armchairs with fluted wood frames and tufted linen upholstery. A selection of antique gilded mirrors are propped in the sand, reflecting the entire, glittering scene back to us.

Not wanting to mingle, we’d waited as long as we could before arriving, and now, from inside the pavilion, Jake furiously waves me over. I squeeze Anna’s hand, checking her face before I have to leave her to join the groomsmen.

“You good?” I ask.

She lifts her chin and nods but I see my own disbelief echoed in her eyes. It’s so much. Weddings are supposed to be celebratory and grandiose, but this is bordering on grotesque.

I wait until she’s comfortably seated in the front row beside Blaire before walking away.

The minute she’s out of my sight, I enter a bit of a trance, wanting to get this all over with. Yes, it’s beautiful; in fact, odds are good this is one of the most beautiful weddings ever. But after this morning’s drama, it’s hard to completely enjoy it as I walk down the aisle with one of the Leighs on my arm. Of course, there are moments of perfection that follow. Like when the live orchestra dips into motion, and Linc, Nix, and GW walk in tiny suits down the aisle. Or the delighted coos of the gathered guests when GW veers off the path, determined to sit on Anna’s lap. Or Reagan, following with a basket of petals, looking beautiful and so grown-up. (She’d been nervous about walking alone, so Anna drew her a portrait, of Reagan glowing and confident with her chin in the air. She had stared at Anna with hero worship in her eyes. I see the sketch at the bottom of the basket when she reaches the altar.)

And of course, the appearance of Charlie in her wedding dress does something to me, something choking and instinctive, the most bittersweet moment of my life so far. At her side, Dad looks smug and dickish, but my baby sister is a vision, more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. As Charlie nears, though, my eyes turn to Anna in the front row next to Blaire. The two women clutch hands as they watch Charlie walk down the aisle toward Kellan. The pink of Anna’s hair has faded from so much time in the ocean, leaving it the same blush as the blossoms strewn down the aisle.

I’m between my brothers at the altar, with my sister taking her careful steps up to the stage, and I can’t stop staring at Anna. I feel the longing solidify into realization: I want our marriage to be real. Marrying her for student housing was the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done, and it turns out it might have been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

The sunset washes her skin in gold and our eyes meet. She smiles, laughing through her tears, and just like that, I know. I’m going to ask her to move in with me. I’ll move her father close, too, if that’s what it takes. She can paint all day, every day, for the rest of our lives. I’m so swept up with this version of forever that I’m startled when the audience breaks into applause and Kellan steps forward, lifting Charlie’s windblown veil and kissing her with sweet reverence.

The standard wedding mayhem follows: photos with the blazing sky as a backdrop, flutes of champagne passing from hand to hand, greeting everyone as if we haven’t all been together on an island for nine days. The party moves to a gossamer tent with the moon and stars visible overhead; the orchestra plays gentle renditions of pop songs, letting the crash of the waves take center stage. Everything is lit by candlelight and the chandeliers overhead. A six-tier cake is carried in, smooth with white fondant, a brush of gold leaf and an asymmetric swag of sugared orchids. Guests mingle and sample caramelized figs with bacon and chili, roasted oysters, and crème fra?che tarts dotted with caviar. They drink champagne by the gallon and talk about the splendor of the event, but I’m not interested in any of it. I have Anna Green in my arms.

I’m sure I look like a lovesick idiot, but I truly do not care. How did I not notice this perfect woman years ago when she was just across the hall?

“That wedding was beautiful,” she says now, looking up at me. Half of her hair is pulled back, loose and wavy from the salt air. Her skin is warm in the humidity, her cheeks pink after two glasses of champagne. “And absurd.”

“It was absolutely both.”

“You know, you were supposed to be paying attention to the bride.”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn that dress.”

She laughs and threads her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck. “I think this dress is the most inexpensive thing Vivi packed, and yet it’s my favorite.”

“I can see why. You look like a sunset.”

Emotion swells in my chest, eager and demanding. I should ask her to move in with me now. It’s sudden—it’s crazy—but it’s right.

“Anna.”

She turns her eyes up to me. “Mmm?”

My heart speeds up, not because I’m nervous, but because I’m ready. “There’s something I need to—”

“Mr. Weston? Excuse me, Liam?”

We both turn at the sound of a voice to my left. Ellis.

Anna and I step apart a little. “Oh. Ellis—this is Anna. My wife. Anna, this is Ellis Sikora from Forbes.”

I don’t miss the way her expression crashes, and I feel it, too, the unwelcome invasion of reality into our night. “Hello.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, but he doesn’t leave. An empty apology.

I lift my brows, waiting.

“I was just speaking to your father.” Ellis looks to me, then to Anna, and back to me again. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

My first thought—an insane one—is that he somehow knows I’m going to ask Anna to move in with me.

“Congratulations…?” I ask.

“Your father mentioned that he’ll begin the three-year transition process to retirement. And that you’ll be coming on board, eventually taking over as CEO.”

Anna’s attention presses like a red-hot iron rod to the side of my face.

“He said this?” I ask.

Ellis nods. “It’s unconventional. But I think your education and in particular your focus on corporate microcultures is exactly what Weston’s needs. A positive step toward a modern workforce. I’d love to dig into that, how you plan on amplifying employee engagement and shaping the corporate culture under your leadership. Do you have plans to transition back over the next few months?”

I scan the room for my father. He’s standing on the far side of the tent, surrounded by his sycophants, but the moment I spot him, our eyes lock. He’d been watching, waiting for this. With a small smile, he raises his glass to me.

“We haven’t discussed a plan,” I say, and then clear my throat. “There are a lot of steps we’ve skipped here.”

“Your father is confident the board won’t present a problem,” he says. “And I understand why you had to play coy. Can’t let this kind of thing out early, can we?”

I glance to Anna. She looks as annoyed as I feel.

“I knew your grandfather,” Ellis adds, jerking my attention back. “He would be proud to see you at the helm, Liam.”

This feels like a dagger. I swallow, and then have to swallow again to get past the clog of anger and sadness. “Right.”

“I’d love to have some time to talk to you, to perhaps plan the exclusive interview for once we return.”

“The exclusive—?”

“Yes. Your father and I have set an agreement that Forbes will have the exclusive. Does tomorrow morning work?” he asks, smiling warmly.

I am numb. “Tomorrow…”

“Congratulations again, Liam.” With a pat to my shoulder, Ellis nods to Anna and leaves us to return to our dancing.

But instead, Anna pulls me off the dance floor, resting a hand on the side of my neck. “Hey, sweetheart?” I blink down at her, unseeing. “Are you okay?” she asks, searching my eyes. I have no idea what she finds there.

This is a mess. It’s one thing to flirt with the idea of me coming on, to let Ellis dig around a little, but this is an announcement. Turning the message around now would be a public nightmare for the company.

“Shit.” I look up and, as it sinks in, begin searching for someone else now. “Shit.”

But he’s already on his way. My eyes lock on Alex’s as he approaches, cutting across the dance floor, eyes burning. Jake is jogging to catch up to him. “Alex,” he says. “Slow down.”

“Liam.” When Alex reaches me, he roughly pushes Anna out of the way and all thoughts of Weston Foods, my father, and whatever Forbes might have to say about it vanish as a bubble of hot rage explodes in my chest.

“Hey.”My voice is a knife’s edge, and I shove Alex backward. He stumbles. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but if you ever touch her again, I’m putting my fist through your jaw.”

Alex ignores this, coming right back up in my face. “You don’t know what’s going on here? Really, brother?”

“I don’t want this,” I say, low and seething, protectively shifting Anna behind me. “I’ve told Dad a hundred times I’m not interested in that job, or any job in this company.”

“So you said,” Alex says, face crimson. “And yet here we are.”

“Come on, man,” Jake says, pleading, pulling Alex’s arm to get him to step back. “Let’s go outside.”

Alex shakes him off. “Right here is fine.”

We aren’t exactly the center of attention, but we aren’t incognito, either. Alex’s march through the party drew some eyes. My violent shove to his chest drew even more.

“Alex,” I say, inhaling to calm myself down. “No one here is trying to fuck you.”

“Then why am I standing here with your goddamn dick up my ass!”

“Whoa, graphic,” Anna says, coming around to stand between us. She sets a hand on my chest and another on Alex’s. “Okay. Everyone take a breath. I know this feels huge. It is huge. But so is tonight. This is your sister’s wedding reception.” She looks at each of us in turn, though Alex never takes his gaze from my face. “Do this tomorrow,” Anna says. “You’ll get this sorted.”

It takes a beat, but Alex’s face relaxes. And then he nods. “You’re right.”

“See?” she says, exhaling a shaky breath. “Later, okay? Sort it later.”

The problem is, Alex is still nodding, still staring at me. “You’re right,” he says again. “We’ll get this sorted.”

And then he turns, stumbling away.

“It’s fine.” Jake gives my shoulder a squeeze and tosses back the rest of his drink. “He’s upset now but he’ll get over it. He always does.”

“Right,” I say, but I’m not so sure. Despite his posturing, Alex isn’t one for public confrontation. That he approached me here at all shows how blindsided he was. How reckless this has made him.

“Wait,” Anna whispers, her hand clenching mine. “What’s he doing?” I follow her gaze to where Alex is now on the stage with the orchestra, wrenching a microphone free of a stand near a violinist. That’s when I know.

Jake exhales a quiet “fuck” as dread sends ice water through my veins.

“Alex,” I call out, taking a step forward. “Brother, trust me. Don’t do this.”

He taps the mic and the sound reverberates through the room.

“Alex, don’t,” I warn again as Anna exhales a quiet curse. “This won’t go the way you think it will.”

He looks at me with such fury that hope sinks like a stone in my gut. I turn my head, meeting my father’s eyes across the room, and the way his glimmer in the strung lights tells me he’s led us straight here. We walked directly into his trap.

Alex waves an arm overhead. “Could I—?” The speakers squawk sharply with feedback, and Alex clears his throat before leaning back in, breathing heavily. The force of his exhale echoes all around the tent. His hand is shaking. “Could I get everyone’s attention?”

Slowly, with the tinkling of glasses and the decrescendo of conversation, the room stills. Eyes turn to my brother, sweaty and pallid up at the front of the room, and quiet murmurs pass in a concerned wave. Anna presses into my side, and I send an arm around her waist, holding her close.

“Hello, yes, up here, hello everybody.” Alex waves to a passing waitress carrying a tray of champagne flutes. “Could—excuse me, could you bring me one of—yes,” he says, taking a glass. “Thank you. I wanted to make a toast.” He laughs, sending a loud puff of air into the mic, and a few people around us exchange uneasy glances. “I know the toasts come later, after we all eat, but I suppose I couldn’t wait.” He stares down into his glass for a beat before he looks up with a smile. He seems the slightest bit calmer now, more collected. “My name is Alex, for anyone out there I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Charlie’s oldest brother, and CFO of Weston Foods.” Another sharp laugh, and he shakes his head.

Near the edge of the stage, Charlie and Kellan look on, trusting, curious, and a little confused.

“Well, anyway, it’s my baby sister’s big day and it was absolutely gorgeous, wasn’t it?” He nods encouragingly at a smattering of unsure applause, and the clapping intensifies before Alex cuts it off abruptly. “Nice to have a family wedding. Isn’t it? I told my brother Liam—where are you? Ah, right there.” He points to me. “I told my brother Liam that he deprived us of all this.” Alex sweeps his arm, gesturing around the room. “A similar day of gathering, a day to celebrate his wedding to his lovely wife, Anna, five years ago.”

Beside me, Anna goes still. I blink down at her, and she looks up at me, bleak with understanding. Tears fill her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she mouths, soundless.

I bend, kissing her forehead. “None of this is your fault.”

Jake leaves my side and approaches Alex on the stage, reaching for the mic. “Come on, man.”

Alex jerks it away, pushing him. “I got this,” he says, too loudly, and a few people near him wince. A feeling works its way through the room, like the calm before a storm, the sea pulling away from the shore before a tsunami builds. “Liam and Anna… see, their wedding was fast. So fast,” he continues, laughing, as he begins to pace. “One minute Anna Green is just a friend of Jake’s from UCLA, the next she’s married to my private, somber, golden-boy brother who never did an impulsive thing in his lifetime.”

In the distance, my mother’s voice rises up. “Alex. Stop.”

“No, Mom, this is okay. I’ll bring it all back, I promise.” He reaches up with the hand holding the mic and uses the back of his wrist to push his sweaty hair off his forehead. “My brother has spent the past five years telling us about his wife. A med student, excelling in her studies, wowing every professor she meets. A medical doctor in the family! Can you believe it? Every parent’s dream. But you see… the only Anna Green I could find at UCLA switched to a fine art major her junior year. There’s no Anna Green attending Stanford medical school.” He frowns in feigned confusion.

“Alex, stop it,” I call out, my voice deep with warning.

“There is an Anna Green who attended UCLA around the right time, but she recently worked as a convenience store clerk and rents an apartment in Los Angeles. That seems like it’d be a pretty nasty commute to northern California, where Liam lives, but what do I know?” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Though I guess, if I’ve got the right Anna Green, she’ll be able to move back in with him now that she’s lost her job at the Pick-It-Up on Pico Boulevard.” He cups a hand to the side of his mouth and fake-whispers into the mic, “You never want to congratulate someone for getting fired, but in this case I can’t help but think it will be good for the marriage!” He stops and turns to walk the other way. Eyes follow his path, but many also flicker back to Anna, who’s gone as white as a sheet against me. With the guise of her pedigree slipping, their gazes turn harsh, judgmental, and they look at her with the disdain she’d expected all along.

“Oh, come on, friends! Who are we to get in the way of love? Who cares if she doesn’t really go to medical school? Who cares that she doesn’t even know what fork to use?” Alex huffs a laugh into the mic and a soft smattering of laughter drifts through the tent. “As long as my brother is happy, right?” He looks squarely at me. “At least, you look happy, Liam. It’s hard to know because we never see you. I mean, we wouldn’t have even seen you together here if that little scam artist right there hadn’t agreed to be your fake wife.”

I stare at him with thunder in my eyes. I want to destroy him.

Voices break out all around us—surprise, protest, speculation—but Alex quells it with a hand. “Sorry. I guess technically you’re married, right? Until…” Alex glances at his watch. “August fifth? Or was it the twelfth?” He turns his eyes back to me at last. I feel movement at my side, when Anna breaks free of my hand and turns, running out of the tent. “After all, being married was the only requirement for you to inherit your money. What admirable behavior for the man our father wants to be Weston Foods’ next CEO.” He lifts his glass aloft and smiles warmly, no idea that he could be destroying his own life right along with mine. “So thank you, Charlie and Kellan, for having this wedding so we could have some time together with Liam before he conned us all and disappeared forever.”