Chapter 16

Gettingto paradise is a bigger pain in the ass than you'd think.

First there's the flight from Austin to Belize City. Then there's a boat ride to the island where the resort is located. After nearly six hours of combined travel time, I'm thankful that Martin and I have patched things up.

Do I still have a pang in my chest when I imagine what might have been between us?

No!

No, I do not.

Because me fantasizing about what "might have been" is not useful. Especially since Martin clearly has no such pangs.

After our conversation on the plane about Ian, now that I understand how protective he is of him, I can no longer fool myself into believing he's a heartless bastard. However, I can't fool myself into imagining that his heart isn't a pang-less bastard.

But that's okay. Because I am at peace with it now.

Look how at peace I am… I'm like one of those monks that can meditate on a bustling New York subway, that's how at peace I am. Or like the warrior monks in Rogue One!

Though, clearly they die horribly and I'd rather not.

The point is, I'm at peace about my fledgling friendship with Martin. Which is a good thing because we are about to be trapped together on this island for several days.

The island is a narrow strip of pristine beaches dotted with bungalows on one side and a tiny tropical forest on the other called Cresiente Caye. It's an eco-friendly resort run by a married couple that offers snorkeling, scuba diving, and excursions to a nearby turtle sanctuary.

They don't normally do destination weddings because they only have a dozen cabanas, but Ian's friends Lily and Seb (who I met briefly at the engagement party) know the owners. And there's a separate casita where the turtle sanctuary is. So after the wedding in two days, the owner, Jonah, will take Savannah and Ian there, where they'll have the entire island to themselves for two nights. Well, it will be just them and the turtles.

Basically, other than the fact that the resort's size has limited the guest list, it is the perfect location.

Of course, I'd read all about the resort online once the wedding planning started, but the pictures on their website did not prepare me for the beauty of the place as our boat approaches the dock. There's a large palapa behind the main stretch of beach, with umbrellas, and palm trees and beach chairs in front. Brightly painted cabanas branch off on either side, separated by enough space to ensure privacy.

Best of all, my sister is waiting for me on the dock. Which is perfect, because she's been so busy planning everything, we've barely spoken the past couple of weeks.

Except, as soon as the boat docks and its crew starts unloading bags and helping me out, Savannah rushes up to pull me into a hug and whispers, "Oh my God. I'm so sorry."

For a second, I think she's apologizing for me having to ride in with Martin. But then I remember she doesn't know that I've even met Martin outside of the engagement party.

I pull away and look at her.

My older sister has always been taller and prettier than I am. And she got the big tits and pretty eyes in the family. (Hers are a gorgeous blue and mine are an ordinary brown) Totally not fair!

And, generally, since falling in love with Ian, she's been even more glow-y than normal.

But today, despite how gorgeous she looks in her swimsuit and beach cover up, she also looks worried.

"What's up?"

Oh, God. I hope nothing's wrong between her and Ian!

Except it can't be that, because he's standing a few feet behind, talking to Martin who came off the boat just after I did. Ian is watching Savannah in the same hearts-in-his-eyes way he always does. Like he's a cartoon character who just got hit upside the head with a two-by-four. So it can't be that.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

She links her arm through mine and guides me across the wooden dock to the beach, leaning close to speak in hushed tones. "I don't know how this happened. I swear I don't. And I don't know what Mom was thinking. She should have known better!"

"What is it?" I ask again.

Except now that we've reached the beach, her steps are slowing, possibly to match my pace, since she's barefoot and my converse are making me sluggish in the sand. I pause to lean down and kick off my shoes. When I straighten with my tennis shoes in hand, I see that the rest of the wedding guests have exited the palapa to greet us.

I see Ian's mom, his friends, Lily and Seb, a couple of Savannah's friends from the restaurant, our mom and her current boyfriend and …

I turn to Savannah. "Trent? What is Trent doing here?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you!" She steps closer to me, lowering her voice even more, even though the crowd's still far enough away that they probably can't hear us. "Apparently mom ran into him the other day and they started talking. And I guess she didn't know that you two used to be in a situationship. And she somehow invited him!"

Blood rushes from my head down into … I don't even know where. It just leaves my head making me feel lightheaded and woozy.

"How on earth did mom accidentally invite your high school friend to your destination wedding? On a tiny island? How does that even happen?"

"I don't know! She swears she didn't mean for it to happen. And you know how fast talking Trent is."

Oh. Do I ever.

I know exactly what Trent can be like.

"And that's not the worst part." Savannah is trying to force a smile, but it's coming off as more of a panicked, tooth-baring, like she's trying to scare off a predator.

That blood of mine that rushed away from my head is now pounding through my heart like a freight train.

"There's a worse part?"

"We're out of bungalows."

"What do you mean, out of bungalows."

"Well, we invited exactly the same number of guests as there were cabanas. So with Trent here…"

As she trails off, I scan the cluster of people waiting outside the palapa, mentally comparing it to my memory of the descriptions on the website. "And now there's only one empty cabana. But now that Martin and I are here, there are two more people."

"Exactly." She says the word like she's ordering an execution.

Which is not how my sister should be feeling about anything at her wedding.

Least of all something as fixable as this.

Does it suck balls that my ex somehow finagled his way to her wedding? Yes. But way better my ex than hers!

So, I do what any good sister would do. I shake off my dread and paste on a cheerful smile. "Hey, it's no big deal! We'll figure it out."

"But—"

I turn her to face me and grip her by the arms. "You are here to get married. You are not here to worry about where the guests are sleeping. You should be walking hand in hand on the beach with Ian, sipping cocktails and looking gorgeous at sunset, or whatever it is people do at destination weddings."

"But—"

"Here's what's going to happen: you and Ian are going to go do something fun. I am going to talk to the staff to figure something out. And you are not going to give it another thought. Seriously. We're in paradise. I'm sure it can't be that hard for them to find a hammock they can string up between two trees."

"Are you sure?" Savannah asks.

"Positive."

Of course, the moment she walks away, I glance down to see approximately forty-three mosquitoes lining up to suck me dry. Okay, maybe not a hammock outside. But there has to be somewhere I can bunk down.

I slap a couple of the mosquitos and head up to the palapa to find the couple who run the resort. However, before I can reach them, Trent breaks off from the pack and comes jogging over.

When did my life become such a clucking disaster?