Fiona
SLOWLY I SPUN AROUND THE suite. It was huge. “Shay, what on earth were you thinking? I don’t need all this room. This isn’t in your wedding budget.”
“You don’t know what my wedding budget is. Shut up and enjoy this. I feel guilty that you are going to be forced to do so much with Marty,” she stopped short at his name. As if the sound of it would send me crumbling to the floor.
Rolling my eyes at her, I walked to the bar and picked up a complementary bottle of water. “It’s been three years. I’m over it. All of it.”
Shay’s expression was pinched. She was nervous about something. “Oh, uh, good then. You’re over all of it. That’s good. I mean I knew you were I am just glad to hear it. I didn’t want this weekend to be hard. With Marty and . . . with Chantel.” Her eyes widened. She hadn’t mentioned inviting Chantel. That was what had her nervous.
This weekend wasn’t about my past. It was about Shay’s future. I could focus on her and this fairy tale she believed in. The others could be overlooked. With a shrug, I assured her. “It’s fine. You and Chantel were close. I get it. No big deal. I’m just surprised she came.”
No, I wasn’t. Deep down, I knew Chantel would come. For Shay and Marty. And . . . she’d want to face me again. I was ready for that. It had been three years with no contact at all. Things in my life had changed. I wasn’t that girl anymore.
“Are you sure?” Shay asked cautiously.
“Yes. I’m sure, but I’ll probably need to break into the vodka in that mini fridge before I make my appearance tonight. I’ll cover all the mini bar costs because I might use it more than once.” There was zero question.
Shay sighed. “I will cover your vodka. Drink what you want. I know this is hard. And I love you for not getting mad at me. Because I would have been pissed at you.”
I nodded. “Yes, you would have. And they call me the bitch. They have no idea how spoiled and unreasonable you can be.” I was only half teasing. Shay could be a brat. I’d been on the receiving end of it many times.
Shay closed the distance between us and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. “I love you. With mom not being able to come I need you even more. It means the world to me you’re here.” Her words were emphatic. She meant them.
“I know and you should,” was my response. It always had been. I wasn’t one to use the love word.
Shay chuckled and pulled back to look at me. “Rest. Relax. And I will see you in the courtyard at 6:00 for the private dinner I’ve arranged for our closest friends.”
Luckily, I’d been smiling for the camera for so long I knew how to fake a smile to look sincere. Shay beamed back at me. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said again before turning to hurry out the door and back to her wedding preparations.
I stood there staring out the windows overlooking historic Savannah. Letting all she had said sink in. I had prepared myself to face Marty for the past three months knowing this weekend was coming. But I’d had no time to prepare myself for Chantel. I had a few hours to do so. And drinking all the alcohol in the mini bar wasn’t the answer. Well . . . maybe it was an answer but not the best one. If I showed up intoxicated, then they’d all think I still cared. I would not let them think they’d hurt me. My life was better than the one I’d left here with them. I was successful. I was strong. I was independent. I no longer needed a roommate who drove me nuts with her early morning aerobics to pay the rent. I could afford it all on my own.
Feeling somewhat more level I picked back up my suitcase and walked to the bedroom to set it on a luggage rack and open it up. I needed to unpack the little that I had brought and to make sure my dress for tonight didn’t need ironing. Glancing at the bathroom I decided I would take my vodka to the massive claw footed tub and soak in warm bubbles until I was relaxed.
Just as I was getting my dress hung up there was a knock on my door. I paused, not sure what to do. It wasn’t Shay. She had just left. She wouldn’t come back so soon. It could be the hotel with some welcome gift. But I didn’t know if I wanted to chance it. There were people in the hotel I wanted to keep my distance from until I had no choice.
I needed vodka first, dammit.
There was another knock. I groaned and forced my feet to move toward the sound. Knocking had never annoyed me so much. Right now, I disliked it more than anything else. Slowly, I inhaled deeply and exhaled. I was good. I didn’t care who it was. Leaning in, I checked the peep hole to see a hotel employee holding a basket. Relief washed over me and I opened the door not even annoyed with Shay for spending yet even more money on me.
“A gift for you, ma’am,” the lady said in broken English.
I thanked her and took the basket. With a smile, she nodded and walked away. I held the basket glancing inside to see what Shay had done. Champagne, chocolate covered strawberries, gold covered pears, and some fancy looking nuts. Shaking my head, I lifted my gaze ready to retreat into my room when the door across from mine opened.
There wasn’t enough time to panic or consider the chances it was someone I knew. When the stunning redheaded woman stopped short as if she was shocked to see me I gave her a tight smile. I definitely didn’t know her. Unless we had done a modeling shoot together once and I’d forgotten. She had the cheek bones for the job. Photographers would fight to photograph her. The redheads with perfect bone structure always were popular in our field. I doubted she was a model though. I would have more than likely remembered her. It must have been my standing here that startled her. She probably didn’t expect to open the door and see someone right there looking at her. Breaking eye contact, I quickly backed up and closed the door. I put the basket on the bar.
The champagne was tempting. I opened the basket and took out the strawberries instead. I would eat them and go for a run later tonight. After the meal. Not sure I would have much of an appetite at dinner anyway. With all that catching up crap we’d have to do.
Taking a bite of the strawberry I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sweet juice. Then I picked up the bottle of champagne and headed to the bathroom. Screw unpacking. Forget the vodka. I had champagne and a bath. I was sick of thinking about Marty and now Chantel. I needed to escape.
Stopping, I turned around, grabbed the rest of the strawberries and ignored the habitual calorie counting that started to take place in my head. Today was not a day to care. I needed this. I would savor it and I would forget about everything else. And I’d be damned if I worried about one single calorie.