Chapter Seventeen
Nobody mentioned the puddle jumper to Belize.
Not Mom. Not Dad. Not Leo. Nobody. Not a single soul mentioned that the only way to get to Ambergris Caye was via a sardine can with wings, a plane that rattled, groaned, and climbed through the sky like it was held together with hope and duct tape.
One strong gust of wind and I was certain they’d be picking pieces of our fuselage out of the Caribbean.
I knew nobody told me, because if they had, I would have certainly used it as an actual excuse to skip Mom’s wedding altogether.
But even without the fear of plummeting to my death in some wind-up toy sky scooter, I still had enough reservations to rethink the whole thing.
First, there was the fact that Dad and Shira would still be attending.
My estranged parents, who for most of my life couldn’t stand to be within a mile of each other, had somehow agreed to spend a long weekend at a resort the size of a small parking lot.
Then there was Mom and her impulsive decision to marry Keith, a guy she’d known for fewer days than a Sephora return window, and whose mess I would no doubt be cleaning up come Fourth of July.
And to add insult to injury, there was everything going on with Leo.
Leo, who’d appeared out of nowhere, had somehow managed to become a fixture in my life and turned everything I was so sure about right on its head.
While my heart and mind raced with thoughts of our plane careening out of the sky, surprisingly enough, all I wanted was his hand in mine instead of Marin’s well-moisturized death grip.
Though I was incredibly grateful to my best friend, who’d heard the sheer desperation in my voice when I’d called her in a panic about attending the wedding alone and without hesitation agreed to be my plus-one to this shit show.
“Jesus, El, you’re going to snap my fingers in half,” Marin cried, yanking hers out from under mine and swatting me with the issue of The Sophisticate she’d been reading.
Suddenly, the pilot came on the loudspeaker.
“Alright folks, we’re just about to start our descent into Ambergris Caye.
Please make sure your seat belts are securely fastened and your tray tables are up.
Keep an eye out for the beautiful turquoise waters, and try not to panic if the plane feels like it’s taking a few extra dives, that’s just us trying to give y’all a better view.
We’ll have you on the ground in no time. ”
I tried to take comfort in the fact he said ground, not ocean, but even still, I couldn’t help but wish for Leo’s strong arms to be wrapped around me as we glided down through the clouds and over the scattering of small islands and reefs that made up Belize.
I leaned over Marin and peeked out the window.
The aqua-blue water and whitewashed buildings reminded me of Mykonos, and as we (thankfully) touched down on the narrow runway of Ambergris Caye, my thoughts once again drifted to Leo and Greece.
Without thinking, I turned on my phone and shot off a quick text to let him know I’d, by the grace of God, landed safely.
After twenty-five minutes in an open-air jeep, Marin and I finally arrived at the Tide-Kissed Resort and Spa.
The boutique hotel was charming and sun soaked and tastefully bohemian, but also quite small.
Like there was no-avoiding-anyone type small.
Just a main, hacienda-style building and a handful of villas along the water.
As we pulled up, a bellhop met us at the main entrance, took our bags from the car, and pointed to the check-in area.
We followed him into the bright, airy lobby, where glass doors opened directly onto the beach, framing a spectacular view of the ocean.
A warm breeze drifted in off the sea, soft and salt-sweet, and for just a moment, I was glad to be there.
But at the sound of Mom’s voice echoing off the polished tile and glass walls, the moment ended as quickly as it’d come.
“Ellie Belly, you’re here!” she squealed, her bangle bracelets jangling as she waved her hands in the air. “And Marin, what a wonderful surprise. Keith and I were so moved to hear that you wanted to be a part of our celebrations.”
Marin didn’t miss a beat and wholeheartedly entertained Mom’s spiel. “So happy I was able to come, Sonja. This place is beautiful.”
“Mom, hey,” I said, trying for casual, as I leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You didn’t want to mention the little puddle jumper of death?”
“Of course not,” she said breezily. “I knew if I did, you’d chicken out and miss all the fun.”
“Ms. West, we have you all checked into the Coconut Villa for the next four nights,” the front desk agent said, handing me back my passport. “Is Mr. Kindell with you?”
“No, he should be joining me later in the week. Maybe?”
“Wait, Leo isn’t here?” Mom asked, her concern visible in the deep V that formed between her brows.
With a dismissive shrug, I said, “He had a work thing come up last minute, but hopefully, he’ll be here in time for the wedding.”
Mom popped out her bottom lip and tutted. “What a shame. We have so many activities booked through the hotel—zip-lining, paddleboarding, scuba diving. Your dad and Shira are really keen on that one. Did you know Shira is a PADI-certified scuba diver?”
No, I did not know that Shira was a PADI-certified scuba diver. Considering my mother had spent most of my life referring to her as She Who Shall Not Be Named up until a few days ago, I hadn’t even been positive Mom knew Shira’s real name let alone be well versed in her extracurricular activities.
“Throw your bags in the room, get freshened up, and then come meet me, Keith, Cannon, and Allegra for sunset yoga,” Mom said.
Cannon and Allegra? Dad’s kids with Shira. Mom was doing beachside yoga with Cannon and Allegra? Had I just stepped into The Twilight Zone? Did that little plane rocket me into some alternate universe? Orrr . . . maybe that tin can went down, I’m dead, and this is hell?!
“You know . . . uh, the effects of the Xanax I had to pop on that ridiculous plane haven’t quite worn off yet, so I might just take a little siesta, grab a shower, and meet you guys for dinner,” I responded.
“Sure, honey. But you’ll be missing ouuuut,” she cooed. “How about you, Marin? Wanna join us?”
“Actually, a good stretch and some calm breathing sounds just perfect after that very nerve-racking flight where your daughter tried to claw me to pieces with her bare hands,” Marin joked.
“Wonderful. Let’s head down there to get a good spot. Oh, El, don’t forget to check through the itinerary I sent you. Tonight is our Lover’s Luau. You’ll find a grass skirt, coconut bra, and other goodies waiting in your room. Festive attire is very much encouraged!”
My soul briefly left my body at the words “coconut bra,” and I momentarily considered throwing myself into the sea. Instead, perhaps as a Pavlovian response, I nodded slowly and mentally calculated how many drinks it would take to make any of this feel normal.
Cool, can’t wait to process my childhood trauma in synthetic palm fronds.
I let out a weak “Sounds good” over my shoulder as Mom and Marin took off for the beach, and I zigzagged through the maze of garden paths, scanning the room numbers like a countdown to my refuge.
And then, just as I walked past the pool, Dad’s booming voice called out to me from a pineapple-shaped raft in the middle of the crystalline water.
“Looking for your room, El?” he called. “You’re down a little that way in the villa riiiiight next to Shira and me. Cannon and Allegra are doing beachside yoga with Mom, if you’re interested.”
Did he just say “with Mom”? With Mom?! As if he hadn’t spent most of my life referring to her as my “Incense-Loving Forest Goblin of a Mother”?
“Thanks, I’m good. Gonna grab a nap. Catch you guys in a bit.”
“We’ll be here,” he said, splashing Shira with his feet.
I turned on my heel before he could say anything else, before he somehow drove another nail into this hellscape of a coffin.
The winding path toward the villas curved through manicured palms and sandstone steps, my sandals slapping against the wet tiles, my pulse thrumming louder than the waves crashing beyond the trees.
I just needed to make it to my room. Just a few more steps.
Just past the hibiscus bush, then a left at the ridiculous wooden sign that said Stay salty, beaches.
The second my hand closed around the villa’s brass doorknob, I let out a shaky breath. In my mind, I was already face-first on the bed, buried in overpriced throw pillows, maybe screaming into the upholstery and pretending I didn’t care how much mascara I’d get all over it.
But then I saw him and couldn’t believe my eyes.
Farther down the lush green path, framed in golden afternoon light and swaying palms, he was just . . . there. Towel slung over his shoulder, sunglasses and a bottle of suntan lotion loose in his hand. Completely unaware.
He didn’t see me. But I saw him. And my heart didn’t just drop . . . it plummeted. Like it had fallen out of my chest, slammed into every rock on the way down, and landed in the sand in bloody little pieces.
Matty.
What the hell . . . What the actual hell . . . was he doing in Belize?