24. Scarlett
Scarlett
“Well, look at you,” I say, smiling over at Morgan as the plane begins to taxi. “I’m proud of you.”
“Why?” he asks, drumming his fingers on his knee. And while that is definitely something people do when they are nervous, it’s a downgrade in rigidness from the last flight.
“You’re less nervous this time,” I tell him.
“How can you tell?” he asks.
“You’re not throttling the armrests for one,” I point out, and Donovan laughs. Even as the plane picks up speed, he is doing better. His hands ball into fists until we are in the air, but it’s progress.
I do him the favor of not talking while we ascend into the sky.
I also keep my seatbelt on and don’t attempt any spontaneous trips about the cabin.
Honestly, it feels good to move on to the next resort.
I make a point of taking a photo out the window, showing San Diego and the shore below us as it fades beneath the plane.
MoretoExplore- Farewell San Diego. The Villa Pacifica was lovely, but we’re off to the next resort. See you soon, Maui.
I press the post button and send it out into the cosmos before checking the last two posts. One is a couple’s photo of us, and the other one is the engagement announcement. I posted it this morning. As if Donovan can read my mind, or maybe he can see my screen, he chimes in on the subject.
“I have to admit, I was nervous about the public posting of the proposal before you made an announcement,” he says. “But I think it worked in your favor.”
“Being impatient to announce it would have only looked fabricated,” I say. “Suspicious to Conrad and his lawyers. Casually posting it the morning after looks more organic.”
“You’re smart,” he says before turning to Morgan. “She’s smart.”
Morgan responds only with a hint of a smile. His eyes are closed, and he’s focusing on not getting sick, if I had to guess. Luckily, we should be leveling out soon, which should help a little.
Donovan looks between us as I stare at Morgan and his lips tip in a smirk too.
And I can’t help but wonder if he knows what happened last night.
Can he tell Morgan and me hooked up? I’m not sure if Morgan is the kind of guy who talks about things like that, even though Donovan is clearly his best friend.
Either way, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
I wasn’t planning on sleeping with him again, obviously.
I mean, the last time we banged, I wound up pregnant.
Something he doesn’t know and I’m still not fully to terms with.
I know I need to tell him. But for multiple reasons, I’ve already decided not to.
The first being it’s so new. There’s no point in bringing it up until I hit the safe milestone of pregnancy first. The second reason is that I don’t want to distract him from the job at hand.
There’s a lot of pressure on him right now, pressure to perform.
Pressure to rebuild the damage. Conrad would have a freaking field day if he knew I was pregnant. So would the media.
But the last reason, and probably the most motivating one for me to keep my mouth shut, is that I am afraid.
In all honesty, I am terrified of being a mother.
To change my life. To tell my sister. To tell him…
a man who doesn’t even seem to want to be in a relationship, let alone be a dad.
A man who still hasn’t admitted that he remembers me from the Sapphire.
So I shove it to the back of my mind and focus on the here and now. Maui.
The seatbelt light shuts off and Donovan hops up. “I call first bathroom break,” he says, shuffling towards the back of the plane. “I had two Bloody Marys at the airport bar, and I’m about to burst.”
I laugh and Morgan opens his eyes, looking at me for the first time since we boarded the plane.
“The reviews are pouring in,” I tell him.
“Oh, I know,” he says. “My phone is blowing up.”
“They’re all good,” I say. “Well, other than a handful of women who are pissed you are off the market.”
Morgan snorts at that. “I was never on the market.”
“Same,” I tell him, and Morgan’s tension seems to melt a little more.
“I’m curious,” he says. “Why writing? Why travel blogging specifically?”
“I love both,” I say. “Writing and travel. But not just for the free rooms and food. I love seeing places because every place is so different from the last. The scenery is different: the weather, the food, the culture. I can’t imagine only being in one place all the time.
Not when there’s so much to experience.”
Morgan nods. “You seem equally excited with every new place,” he says. “I find it interesting to keep up that level of passion. Especially considering how many places you’ve seen.”
“Honestly, I’ve been stateside for a while. So this job is definitely scratching an itch.”
“How does your family feel about it?” he asks, and I snort.
“My parents are indifferent. They’ve always been a little busy with their own lives. They both work in real estate and are basically never home. They hardly even see each other,” I answer.
“Siblings?” Morgan asks, and I find it curious that he is taking such an interest in my life story. Unless it’s just to preoccupy him from thinking about being seven miles in the air, which is entirely possible. Either way, I don’t mind.
“I have a sister.”
“Older or younger?”
“Older. Claire. She’s a mom, a wife, an English teacher…” I rattle off.
“So you both love to write,” he concludes.
“Sort of. She went to school, graduated, and checked all the boxes. I started school, dropped out, got a passport and a tablet. People thought I was crazy. You probably think I’m crazy,” I giggle, but Morgan just casually shakes his head.
“Not really.”
“No?” I ask. “The man who doesn’t even like leaving his office doesn’t think I’m nuts for trading in a diploma and the possibility of a 401k to see the world?”
“My parents, the founders of all of this, loved to travel. I spent my entire childhood traveling,” he says. And I guess that would make sense.
“Did you love it?” I ask. “That must have been an amazing experience for you and Conrad.”
“It was alright.” He shrugs. “It was fun at times and exhausting at others. While I got to spend a lot of time at beaches and in museums, and at cool hotels, I also spent a lot of time in airport lobbies and on buses and trains. Not the best way to grow up, honestly.”
My stomach dips at that. I hadn’t thought about that. About the children of the owners of Bale Resorts growing up that way. Or about the fact that the small person inside me is destined for the same life if I don’t change my life path completely.
If he didn’t enjoy it as a kid, I doubt he’d want it for his own kids.
* * *
We arrive in Maui and it’s like San Diego on steroids.
The water is crystal clear; the sun is bright; the air is fresh, and everything smells like flowers.
Maybe because they put leis on us the second we dismounted the plane, something I obviously had to get a photo of for the blog.
But either way, it’s exactly what I hoped and dreamed it would be.
I’ve been to tropical islands before, but not many, and not Maui. This is a bucket list item for sure.
If I had my freaking bucket list.
The Oceana is everything I imagined as well. A sky high building in the shape of a half-moon with an archipelago of pools in the arch and, of course, a private beach.
As we walk through the sliding doors, the lobby emits a cool breath that smells like fresh flowers. We are met with smiles by people in linen dresses and floral casual button-downs. But we are also met with problems.
Morgan wants to get right to business, and that business begins with inspection.
Cleanliness, customer ratings, occupancy, pool temperatures, and restaurant satisfaction.
The latter poses some issues, and Morgan sets up an immediate meeting with the management and Donovan. To my surprise, he wants me there too.
“You can’t tell it like it is and show me improving things if you don’t see what’s behind the curtains,” he tells me
And these curtains seem to be hiding a lot.
“People aren’t eating here,” the manager says. “Not like they used to.”
Hannah is a thin woman with tattoos and short hair, and a sharp, no-nonsense jawline. She gives off the same air as Catherine Zeta-Jones in the movie No Reservations. Like she demands perfection, but everyone around her is failing her.
“And why is that?” Morgan asks. “Why aren’t guests of the Oceana eating at the five-star restaurant inside it?”
“Honestly, the Tide and Torch is not the problem. The staff isn’t the problem. The menu isn’t even the problem. It’s the food itself,” she answers, and our brows collectively furrow.
“Are the cooks not up to par?” I ask.
“The cooks are doing their best,” she answers. “Myself included. The problem is the food isn’t fresh.”
That statement sends Morgan’s eyebrows to his hairline. “I’m sorry. The food isn’t fresh?” he echoes in disbelief. “How can that be? We’re on an island. The best food in the world is everywhere.”
“True,” she says.
“So, what’s the problem?” Morgan asks impatiently.
But Hannah doesn’t waver. “The problem is a lot of our food is being imported. Frozen.”
“Frozen?” Donovan asks, and his jaw is unhinged.
“Yep. To cut costs. And because apparently, it takes less time to order food online to be sent to us than to keep an eye on what’s fresh and in season around us,” she states.
“Which management are we talking about?” I ask.
“Who do you think?” Donovan asks, and I frown.
“Conrad…”
Morgan pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “I’ll take care of it. We’ll shift the entire menu.”
“Sounds great,” she says, though she’s not smiling. The woman is clearly beyond frustrated. “How long will that take?”
“We’ll do some research, shopping around,” Donovan says, but I just smile.
“I have an idea. We’ll have a new menu for you complete with food tomorrow,” I say, and everyone just stares at me.
“What are you talking about?” Morgan asks, but I keep smiling.
“Don’t worry. This is what I do best.”