“Should we check in or wait… for Josie?” My words trail off as I step into The Cove and onto the marble floor. I can feel my mouth drop open as I take in the magnitude of this hotel.

“The guys weren’t kidding,” Katelyn says.

“No, they weren’t.”

The guys, being our husbands, insisted that we turn our girls’ week away into seven days of pampering. Despite our best attempts at finding a nice hotel with a nice beach, the guys became adamant that we treat ourselves, as a gift from them. As a thank you for taking care of them, their families, and lives while they’re on tour.

For a month or longer, the guys bickered about where we should stay, what we should do, and even as to where we would go. It came down to Betty Paige and Eden suggesting that everyone’s recommendations for a hotel be put into a hat. Whatever name was drawn would be the place that we would stay.

Of course, arguing ensued about who would draw a name because in all honesty, Jimmy, Liam, and Harrison are children in adult-sized bodies and they can’t agree on a single thing most of the time.

In the end, Paige drew the name because she was the youngest in the room, and all Eden wanted to do was go surfing; our indecisiveness was taking up valuable wave time.

And that is how we ended up standing in this grandiose lobby, with our mouths hanging open, acting like we’ve never seen anything like this before.

“I should’ve come here on my honeymoon,” Katelyn says, causing me to laugh.

“Did you and Harrison recently tie the knot and not tell us?” I ask.

Katelyn looks over and smiles at me. My heart beats fast, thinking that one of my best friends would take the plunge without having our family there to witness the act.

“No,” she says with a devilish grin. “Harrison and I are extremely happy with the way things are now.” Katelyn steps forward, dragging her suitcase behind her as the sound of her flip-flops echoes throughout the lobby. It’s a sound I hate, but have grown to tolerate it with Eden wearing them every day.

I follow her quickly toward the registration desk, curious of what has been booked for us.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. James, Mrs. Davis,” the clerk says before either of us can give our names.

I glance quickly at Katelyn who rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, but how do you know who we are?” she asks. “Surely, our reservations are under a different name?”

“Most of us in Atlantis are big fans,” the clerk tells us as her fingers move wildly over the keyboard. “When we found out you were coming, we all became very excited.”

“How does one find out?” I ask.

The clerk stops, but doesn’t make eye contact with us, meaning our question goes unanswered. Great. Perfect. No privacy.

All thoughts of being hounded run through my mind. We were probably better off bringing the guys; this way we’d have security with us and people wouldn’t dare try to ask us questions.

The young woman slides our keycards to us and rambles instructions on how to find our room and our private cabana. She goes into detail about our itinerary, telling us when our trip to the spa is, the day we’ll visit the dolphins, and our Island tours. “Here is a list of restaurants, and when you’re ready to go to Aquaventure, let us know. The bellhop will be here shortly to help you.”

“Thank you,” we both say. We step away from the desk and wait for the bellhop to take us to our room. I have every doubt in my mind that I will get lost if I try to find my room by myself. I only need to be shown once, maybe twice, before I can find my way there.

“That had to be Eden’s idea,” I say, looking over the flyer for Aquaventure.

“Do you think we should’ve brought the kids?” Katelyn asks.

I adamantly shake my head. “First off, you don’t have small children. Yours are gown and out of the house; why on Earth would you want to vacation with them?”

Katelyn opens her mouth to stay something, but closes it quickly.

“Second, we need this! Look at this place, Katelyn. They picked it for us because they love us and know we need a break. I do wish they were here though.”

“We could call them?” she says, but I shake my head. “I know you’re right. I’m feeling—”

“Like you have an empty nest?”

She looks at me wide eyed. “Yes. I hate that the kids aren’t together. Mostly, Peyton though; she’s alone in Chicago and I worry about her. I’m constantly watching the news… and I hate the news, Jenna. There is so much crime. Harrison tells me that Peyton is fine, and that she’ll call if she needs anything, but I still worry.”

The bellhop whistles his way toward us. “Hello, would you like me to show you to your room?”

“Yes, that would be much appreciated,” I say as I reach for my bag. He takes it from my hand, and reaches for Katelyn’s too. We fall in step behind him, and I quickly find myself chuckling because our bellhop looks a bit disjointed with his arms extended back, pulling two suitcases.

Katelyn steps forward and slides our key in and opens the door. In my head, angels are singing as we step into our penthouse suite. The windows are open, letting the sound of the ocean wash over the room.

“Sorry,” the bellhop says, as he rushes past us to close the window. “Usually these are closed to keep the cool air inside.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. I hand him his tip and thank him. Once he’s gone, I look at Katelyn and laugh. Our suite is beautiful, but in 4225 West colors.

“We can’t get away,” she says, trailing her fingers along the black leather sofa with red and white accent pillows.

“They planned this,” I say.

“You know they did. They somehow rigged this hotel being drawn.”

Nothing surprises me when it comes to the guys. Katelyn and I tour the rest of the suite. It’s huge, with a full dining room table that seats eight. Each room has a king-sized bed, and overlooks the ocean. In fact, every space in the room has a view of the ocean.

“I’m never going to want to leave,” I mumble.

“And yet, we live on the beach.”

Katelyn’s right. We have this luxury at our fingertips, yet here we are, vowing to never leave paradise.

“What time is Josie supposed to arrive?” I ask as I continue to stare out at the perfect sandy beach and blue waters.

“Not for another couple of hours. Should we visit our cabana?”

“Yeah, we should.”

We change quickly and follow the signs that lead to the private beach. We have a cabana reserved for the duration of our stay. As soon as we sit down, a waitress appears, out of thin air.

“What can I get for you ladies?”

“Can you surprise us?” Katelyn asks. “We’ll take whatever is your special drink for the day.”

“And some fruits? Maybe an appetizer tray?” I add.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells us, leaving us to get situated. Every cabana here is different. Some have a double lounge bed, while others have a sofa and chairs. I don’t know who requested what in ours, whether it was one of the husbands or the staff here, but it’s very accommodating with three single lounge beds, and tables between for us to set our stuff down.

Katelyn dumps her bag onto one of the beds. Sunglasses, cell phone, and three books spill out.

“Prepared, I see,” I laugh at her pile.

“What? I didn’t want to get bored.”

I spread my arms out wide. “How can you get bored here? I mean, look at this place.”

“And the eye candy,” she says, nodding toward the side of the pool where two guys are looking at us. I quickly duck behind the curtain and stifle my laugh.

“No way,” I tell her quietly. “I know you won’t even entertain them.”

She shrugs. “I mean, we’re here and—”

“Katelyn Powell-James, I do not believe a single word coming out of your mouth right now.” I pick up one of her books and pretend to throw it at her. A name on the inside catches my attention. Mason’s name is etched onto the paper. It’s faded, but still there.

I’m afraid to look at her face out of fear we’ve chosen the wrong week to get away. It’s been so long since he passed that dates slip by, and I find myself forgetting to remember him.

The white gauzy material that makes up the curtains sways with the slight breeze we have, brushing against my skin. I smile at the thought that Mason is here, especially when it seems Katelyn needs him right now.

That’s why she keeps asking if the husbands should’ve come. It’s something I’m going to have to ask Josie when she gets here. The last thing I want to do is feel like I must walk around on eggshells because I might say something stupid.

“I’m going to test out the water,” I tell her, motioning over my shoulder. I quickly ditch my cover-up and straighten out my bikini. “Wanna come?”

Katelyn hesitates for a minute before nodding. She ditches her cover-up and reaches for my hand. Together, we walk to the edge, away from the two men that she saw earlier.

“Sharks,” she says, nodding to the guys.

I glance around the resort and see that we’re surrounded. “They’re everywhere.”

“And will turn into vultures once word spreads that we’re here.”

She’s right. As much as I want to say no one cares that we are here, the truth is, they do, or will once they find out. To us, we’re the wives of men that entertain millions with their music. We’re the ones doing their wash, making their dinner, and playing dad to their children when they’re out on tour. But to others, we’re the ticket. Many think they can get in good with us, and that we’ll invite them over and let them party with the guys.

But it doesn’t work that way, at least not with Josie, Katelyn, or me. We’re a closed-off, tight-knit family with steel doors and shutters. Even the kids experience their own turmoil because of who their fathers are.

Eden is very cautious about who she brings home, and often chooses to spend time at her friend’s house over ours. I hate that for her, but I understand. Jimmy doesn’t. He wants her home, away from the temptations of the world. Even when she has a surfing competition, he’s there, and if he can’t be, a bodyguard is. Eden is protected at all times. The last thing he wants is for his career to interfere with hers.

Still, it’s happened. Her competitors accuse judges of giving her better scores because of who her father is, which would make sense if her father could surf as well as she can. Now, if Harrison was her father, I could understand, but not Jimmy. He has no influence over the judging of a surfing competition. What’s he going to do, offer them a signed CD?

Knowing my husband, he would try, if Eden wasn’t any good, but that’s not the case. She’s one of the best on the junior circuit and keeps telling us that she plans to be a professional surfer by the time she’s seventeen. Most of the time I want to tell her no, that she needs an education, but can’t. I don’t want to be the parent that limits their child, but also don’t want to turn my back on an opportunity.

Jimmy blames me. Saying that if I hadn’t been adamant that we move to California, none of this would’ve happened. I, of course, remind him this is payback for knocking me up in the first place.