Chapter 20
The days in Martinique had been beautiful, but Sylvie found herself loving the nighttime even more.
Every evening, she made sure to be outside on one of the balconies.
Tonight, it was the balcony of the small bar at the back of the hotel.
She had come down here because the dining terrace was closed for a private event—she assumed it was the wedding reception Portia had mentioned.
She was offered a tray in her room, which should have been fine, but the problem was that every single option felt like a cop-out.
Club sandwich. Tuna melt. Personal pizza.
So, instead, she went down to the bar and ordered herself a martini like they drank in Femme de Force.
She hadn’t done as many things related to the film as she’d thought she would, and she was running out of time.
Spending the last few days with Luke had been fun, but it had left her with less time to think than she’d wanted.
Even as she thought it, a pang of sadness and regret rippled through her—she hadn’t seen Luke today.
They hadn’t made plans the night before, and he hadn’t been at breakfast, so she spent the day wandering around town, picking up souvenirs and stopping by a few of the places she had seen on the way to or from their excursions.
She couldn’t let not seeing him ruin her last day in Martinique.
Her last night. The thought kept echoing in her mind. Coming here had definitely not been part of the plan, but she couldn’t deny that it had been wonderful. Until tonight, at least.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a group of men in their twenties tossing back shots despite already being pretty drunk.
Sylvie sighed, disappointed that her last proper evening wouldn’t be spent on the terrace.
She felt like an older kid at a dinner party who had been removed from the grown-ups’ table and sent to sit with the little kids.
As she realized that, she wondered if people still did that anymore, or if her generation was one of the last to experience it. After all, when was the last time she or anyone she knew had a dinner party like the ones her parents used to attend?
Snapping her fingers, she remembered. Juliette had hosted a housewarming party nearly ten years ago, and they ended up fighting about it. She couldn’t even remember what they had argued over.
Then, a cold sensation clamped in her stomach as the details resurfaced.
She remembered saying something about “perfect wife, perfect life,” and Juliette had lost her temper, yelling that just because Sylvie’s love life was terrible didn’t mean everyone else’s was easy. They didn’t speak for weeks after that.
It was Sylvie’s mom who finally got them talking again. She tricked them into bumping into each other, then baited them into admitting why the other’s actions had upset them so much. There was a good chance that without Annette, Sylvie and Juliette wouldn’t still be friends.
A wave of crushing sadness hit her then, remembering how her mom had worked so hard to get them on the same page, even just in the same room.
She gasped sharply as a sob caught her unexpectedly, nearly causing her to spill her martini. Tears streaked down her face as she pressed her hand over her mouth to quiet the sound. She missed her mom so intensely that it felt like a constant ache in her bones.
It’s not fair! she thought, screaming the words inside her head. Why do I have to lose everyone?
These waves of grief had surprised her once or twice since she had been on the island, and when they came, it felt like they would never end.
“Ma’am?” a quiet voice behind her said.
Holding her breath, she turned to see the concierge, appearing rather concerned.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded weakly. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I, um, lost my mother recently, and—”
“No need to explain, ma’am,” he said. “I understand.”
“Thank you,” Sylvie said with a small smile. “And sorry—”
“Please, ma’am, don’t apologize,” he said, smiling back before continuing. “And pardon me, but a gentleman was asking for you—says he’s a friend of yours. Mr. Luke Preston?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, he’s an old friend. He’s looking for me?”
“Yes, ma’am. Shall I let him know you’re here?”
She nodded, and he went to fetch Luke as she scrambled to make herself look halfway decent—or, at the very least, like she hadn’t been crying. Of course, she had left her handbag upstairs in her room, so all she could do was fix her mascara using the front-facing camera on her phone.
“Hey,” Luke said, making her jump.
“Oh, hi! Sorry!” Turning to look at him, she watched his face fall. She must look worse than she thought.
“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer and placing a hand on her arm.
A heavy tear escaped her control and rolled down her cheek. “I’m fine!” she said, laughing as Luke raised an eyebrow. “I promise! It’s just…I caught myself thinking about my mom, and it kind of hit me all over again that she’s gone, you know?”
He nodded. “I know. It’s hard when it jumps out at you like that—feels like being ambushed by your own brain.”
“A little bit, yeah,” she said, thinking about it.
“And it’s weird. Every time it happens, it feels like…
I don’t know. Like I’m fine for a few days, I even enjoy myself a little, then there are these waves of grief.
It never really goes away, but when it hits, it’s like no time has passed at all.
It feels like I’m stuck there, and the time in between was a hallucination or something. ”
Luke squeezed her arm gently, and she felt her skin tingle where his fingers touched her. “I think I know the feeling.”
She barely heard him, though—she was completely inside her own thoughts. It was good of him to make her feel listened to, she supposed.
She sighed heavily, as if annoyed with herself. “And I know it’s kind of dumb, but I just don’t want to be here, feeling hidden away in a backroom bar with only a club sandwich in my room on offer, you know?”
“Let’s get out of here, then. There’s a seafood place down by the water I’ve been wanting to go to for days.” He sounded unsure, but the determination on his face made her smile.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go. I just need to get my purse.”
“Why? You’re not for paying for anything,” he replied. “Dinner is on me, okay?”
She knew he wouldn’t stop her if she truly insisted, but she had to admit there was a flicker of excitement as she nodded. He took her hand, and together, they quietly slipped out of the hotel and onto the street.
Throughout the walk, she felt lightheaded and giggly—almost like they were skipping school and dodging the principal as they snuck out the front gates. The street around them was loud, bustling with people laughing and having a great time. The air was electric, the music vibrant and unfamiliar.
Even though the restaurant was only a short walk away, it took longer than expected, given how packed the street had become.
“What’s going on?” she asked Luke as they arrived at the restaurant.
“Carnival is starting. Apparently, the streets will be so packed with celebrations that you won’t be able to move in a few days.” His eyes widened as he stared toward the back of the restaurant and pointed. “There! We can grab that table!”
A single table with two chairs sat next to the balcony railing overlooking the sea.
Perfect, she thought as she took her seat. It’s beautiful.
An older woman with purple decorations woven through her long locs, which hung well past the waistband of her jeans, approached and handed her a menu. “Enjoy it, darling. There is nothing like Carnival in the world, and it hasn’t even gotten started yet!”
Laughing, Sylvie found herself thinking about how much her mom would have loved the experience. This time, though, thinking of her mom didn’t make her cry. Sad, sure. But no rolling tears of grief.
In her mind, she ran through all the Sweet Somedays she could remember.
Visiting the island from Femme de Force had seemed impossible.
It had nearly been a disaster.
It was probably the hardest one on the whole list.
And yet, here she was, sitting on a Caribbean beach with a party all around her, and Luke Preston walking toward her holding a bottle of champagne.
Maybe the Sweet Somedays weren’t as impossible as they felt.