16. Lauren
LAUREN
“That all looks great. I’m looking forward to working with you.” Missy held out her hand to Lauren, who shook on it.
“Me, too. Thank you again for the chance to pitch.” The two women were standing in a conference room at the offices of Missy’s nonprofit, Lauren’s presentation still up on the screen behind them.
“Honestly, you barely needed to come in. I’ve seen your previous work, and I knew you were the one I wanted to work with,” Missy said conspiratorially. “Now, I hear that you’re leaving on your honeymoon today.”
Lauren’s stomach dropped. She’d been so nervous about the pitch all morning that she’d almost forgotten she was staring down the barrel of a week alone with James. Her husband.
“That’s right,” she said brightly. “I can’t wait.”
“Where are you going?” Missy asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s a surprise.” Lauren’s stomach sank again.
She was always in control of her life, from the work she did to what and when she ate.
It had been years since she’d set off into the unknown like this, and her fate was in James’s hands.
What if he took her to Greenland or something?
Lauren didn’t much like the cold. Or what if he took her to a football game or a NASCAR race or something else she wouldn’t enjoy?
He wouldn’t do that, a soft voice in the back of her mind reminded her.
Mental images of James cooking for her, caring for her, flashed through her mind.
They’d been rivals before, but they weren’t now.
Not as much, at least. James wouldn’t purposefully do something for their honeymoon that Lauren would hate.
“Well, have a great time!” Missy said. “When you get back, we can get started on the first campaign.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“You don’t have to lie.” Missy winked. “I know working on a campaign isn’t anywhere near as exciting as going on a honeymoon.”
“Right.” Lauren managed a smile. “Well, thank you again. I’ll see you in a week.”
The women stood and shook hands before Lauren saw herself out of the office. She should have been relieved. This was a huge, long-term contract — just what she’d been looking for. Yet she couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach about the trip with James.
What if they found themselves on a secluded beach somewhere?
What if James kissed her, not the kind of soft peck they’d shared at the wedding, but a real kiss?
The kind that took their breath away? What if they were sharing a room, a bed, even?
What if they found themselves talking, getting closer, really getting to know each other?
Lauren’s heart raced. She tried to clear her mind as she exited Missy’s office into the bright San Valentino sunshine.
Lauren met her driver outside (having decided not to drive herself today, so she could focus on her pitch) and climbed in the back.
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop imagining James taking her into his strong arms, bending his lips to meet hers.
She still remembered him sweeping her off her feet at the restaurant when she’d helped him with Omial.
She’d thought he was going to kiss her, at least for a fraction of a second.
Lauren had spent the last few weeks trying to ignore her changing feelings for James, but it was getting harder.
The honeymoon would force her to confront how she really felt, and Lauren didn’t want that.
She’d been on her own for so long that the thought of having real feelings for James, for anyone, made her dizzy.
It would have been better to keep working and maintain their distance, but there wasn’t any other option.
“Here we are.”
Lauren blinked. Somehow, the drive to the airport had flown by.
“Thank you.” She slid out of the car and stood outside the small private airport where James had told her to meet him. There were a few jets on the tarmac and a small lot of parked cars. Lauren headed for the main building, her suitcase in her hand, but James appeared before she reached it.
“Just in time,” he said. “How did your pitch go?”
Lauren couldn’t meet his eyes. She was too embarrassed about her wild imaginings in the car.
“It was fine. No, actually, it was great. Missy and I have a handshake agreement to work together.”
“Congratulations!” James lifted his arms, seemed to think better of it, and quickly held up a hand, which Lauren slapped in the world’s most awkward high-five.
Then they both looked away. They’d gotten used to cooking and eating together, but they still hadn’t quite found their footing in the rest of their lives.
“Yeah. Um, thanks.” Lauren glanced out at the jets. “So, which one’s yours?”
James pointed to a large one with a gold stripe that rested on the tarmac. Lauren suddenly wished she knew more about planes so she could say something intelligent; she’d never been this close to a private jet before, much less flown on one.
“Shall we?” James asked.
“We shall,” Lauren agreed.
“The paperwork is taken care of, and our pilot is ready,” James explained.
“You really did take care of everything,” Lauren muttered.
“Of course I did. I said I would, didn’t I?”
Lauren nodded, unsure what to say. As long as it had been since she’d stepped into the unknown like this, it had been just as long since someone had taken care of her this way. It was nice, if alarming.
“Yeah,” she managed, rather ineloquently. “Thanks.”
They crossed the tarmac and climbed the short steps to the plane. A flight attendant met them at the large, armchair-like seats with glasses of champagne, which they both accepted.
“Can I get you anything to eat?” the attendant asked. Lauren, who was suddenly starving, nodded.
“What do you have?”
A few minutes later, she was tucking in to a hot sandwich, and the plane was on its way down the runway. As it took off, she looked out the window as the skyscrapers of San Valentino dropped away, replaced by sparkling cerulean ocean.
“Um,” she said, suddenly realizing this trip was still a mystery to her. “Where are we going, actually?”
“Floriela,” James told her. “It’s a resort in Mexico. I think you’ll like it.”
“Okay.” Lauren took another bite of her sandwich. This was going to be an adventure, that was for sure.
A few hours later, the plane touched down at a small airport, where James and Lauren were met by a private car.
The drive to the resort took twenty minutes, and Lauren was glued to the window the whole time, watching small towns with colorful houses and unfamiliar vegetation roll by.
She spotted the ocean in the distance, along with a collection of tall buildings that must have been the nearby city of Mazatlán.
They didn’t go into the city, though, instead driving through smaller towns where kids played soccer and adults sat in town squares sipping juices.
As they neared the resort, the vegetation grew thicker and there were fewer and fewer people.
Finally, they drove up a long private drive to a bright white building in a colonial style.
Lauren spotted other buildings tucked into the trees around them, and in the near distance, she heard the crash of waves and the twitter of birds singing.
A porter came for their bags, while a woman with a clipboard met them by the car.
“Welcome to Floriela, Mr. Pembrook and Mrs. Maddox. I’ll show you to your room,” she said.
“Don’t we need to check in?” Lauren asked.
“There’s no need, your husband has completed the online check-in,” the woman replied. “Please, follow me.”
The resort was huge. They followed a stone path through lush vegetation to a freestanding house with giant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach. The windows were hung with billowing white curtains. The woman tapped the glass door, which slid open.
“Don’t worry,” she explained. “You have complete privacy. The nearest guests are several minutes’ walk away, and the beach in front is yours alone.
If you need anything, just call with this phone or order on the app, and we’ll be with you in moments.
You can also eat in our dining room in the main building or order room service. ”
“Thank you,” Lauren said. She’d been on vacation only a few times in her life — camping, once, with her family when she’d been young, and one night away in the vineyards near San Valentino when she’d won her first contract. Neither had been anything like this.
“Of course.”
The woman left, and Lauren gazed open-mouthed at the suite. It had a spacious living room with beach-themed wicker furniture, a private kitchen, a bathroom with a jacuzzi tub, and a bedroom with a four-poster bed hung with more billowing white curtains.
One bed. A mix of nerves and anticipation built in Lauren’s stomach, but she quickly turned away and faced James.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Good.” He smiled. “I’m glad you like it. We have at least one activity each day outside of the resort, so we can be seen, but otherwise, we can just relax.”
Lauren glanced at her bag. “Great. I’ll just…” She sauntered over and opened the zipper compartment at the top.
“What are you looking for?” James asked.
“Nothing. I’ll just go outside for a minute.” Lauren pulled her laptop case out of the bag and tried to hold it discreetly behind her. James’s brows raised.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. Um, feminine products.”
His brow rose further. Then he made a sudden movement around her and spotted the laptop.
“Did you really bring work with you?” he asked. His tone was a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
“Maybe.” Lauren blushed. “I’ve never been away from work this long.”
“Well…” James went to his own bag and pulled out a similar case. “I guess I have the same problem.”
Lauren laughed. “Okay, so it’s no problem then. We can both work a little. If I can just get a few hours a day in, it would be so helpful.”
“Except, we can’t.” James sighed. “If our clients received work or emails from us while we’re on our honeymoon, they’d be incredibly suspicious. And if the press found out, they’d crucify us.”