by Gina LaManna
This was supposed to be her wedding. After years of clomping behind Kate in hand-me-down shoes that were slightly too big for her feet, Whitney had finally surged past her. The most ironic part of all was that until Kate had turned her attention to Max a few years back, Whitney hadn’t looked twice at Arthur.
Arthur Banks had always been a family friend to Whitney, a younger brother of sorts, a staple in her life. Then suddenly, when Kate reconnected with Max, Whitney had latched on to Arthur in a whole new way. Kate doubted Whitney had even realized what happened, but Kate knew. She certainly hadn’t imagined the curiosity in Whitney’s voice when they’d first discussed Kate’s new boyfriend Max.
Shortly thereafter, Arthur had arrived on the scene in a prominent way. It was with a wry smile that Kate wondered what Whitney soon-to-be Banks would do if she found out that Kate Cross’s perfect life wasn’t so perfect after all. That Max was probably going to dump her the second they arrived back in New York. That Kate couldn’t bear children. That Kate’s life was empty, save for her wallet. Then what? What would Whitney have left to strive for?
Kate trailed behind Max out of the car and toward the entrance. The resort and spa seeped into the desert atmosphere, sitting snugly against the landscape while managing to gift its visitors with a wave of natural relaxation and the feeling of being utterly pampered from the moment they stepped foot on the front drive. Men in sharp suits waited with fresh coconut milk and sparkling crystal flutes of champagne, and the soft floral scent that pumped from the front doors came from real bouquets and not some manufactured perfume.
As it was, Kate didn’t feel very Zen. She was angry, furious. She could see the closure in Max’s eyes. He was keeping her around for this weekend as a pretty little trophy on his arm, and as soon as they were back to New York, he’d dump her on the doorstep. Would he bother carrying her bags in, or would he leave them outside too?
Kate stepped one stiletto in front of the other, following behind Max into the lobby. She’d put extra effort into her clothing choices today—skintight black jeans, a V-neck that exposed significant cleavage, a glittering necklace and bracelet set Max had given her for Christmas.
She wore huge sunglasses and had her hair down in curls the way Max liked. In their early dating days, he’d called it her pre-sex hair because he couldn’t resist when she wore it that way. Kate’s lips curled as she wryly noticed he was resisting her hair just fine at the moment.
As they stepped to the front desk of the resort, Kate barely noticed the easy thump of a relaxing soundtrack or the quiet, efficient bustle of staff hurrying to appease every last whim and wish of its visitors. Instead, Kate was captivated by the sight of two women sitting in the corner, both of them focused on the baby nestled against the older woman’s chest.
It took Kate a second to place the woman holding the baby, but as Kate’s chest pinged at the sight of the small child, she recognized Emily, her former roommate. Kate hadn’t heard that Emily had gotten married, let alone had a child. What a pretty little life, she thought.
It wasn’t that Kate was jealous of either woman specifically, but she envied what they had. At least one of them had a baby, and they both had their friendship. They probably had loving husbands waiting for them in their rooms, sending them off with some charming quip like, “Have a sparkling girls’ night!”
The young woman across from Emily was staring at Kate as if she’d seen a movie star. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Kate and Max to be recognized—their wedding would certainly have appeared in the social section of the paper, and every now and again, the couple had their photo picked up in some magazine. They weren’t famous, but they were both rich and beautiful. They made for a handsome couple.
Funny, Kate thought wryly. If only they knew…
The younger woman snapped her gaze away as if she knew she’d been caught staring. Her cheeks blushed a vibrant red as she turned toward her friend and spoke in a lowered voice. The woman cupped her hands in a shield over her forehead with what looked like embarrassment, which was quite unnecessary, considering Kate had been staring back just as much.
Kate looked away to see Max at the reception counter already, and she stomped across the room to join him. Max flashed the front desk clerk a winning smile. The front desk employee, name tag Allison, gave Max an equally brilliant smile back.
“Here are the keys to your room,” Allison said. “Would you like me to get some massages booked for the two of you?”
“No, thanks.” Kate stepped forward, swiping the key from the woman’s hand before Max could take it. She leaned on the counter, gave a knowing side-eye glance toward Max. “We’ll be plenty busy on our own.”
Max ran a hand through his hair. “For Christ’s sake, Kate. Will you leave it alone?”
Allison blinked and glanced down at the sharpness in Max’s tone.
“What did I say?” Kate asked, feeling a flutter of uncertainty. Max’s furious eyes were out and in full force. Normally, he was more of an indifferent sort of fighter, but this time, she could tell he meant business. “I meant—”
“Fuck! Everyone knows what you meant,” Max said. “It’s all you talk about, even after we agreed to take a break. What if I want to get a massage?”
“Get a massage,” Kate said. “What’s the big deal?”
Max rolled his eyes. “Kate, this isn’t working.”
Kate tapped the room key against the counter. “What the hell do you mean, Max?”
Suddenly, Max went still. He closed his eyes, his hands folded peacefully in front of his body. “I can’t do this.”
“Get the damn massage if you want!” Kate tried to sound angry, but her voice cracked. “I was trying to be romantic.”
Max’s eyes flashed open. “There’s nothing romantic between us anymore. It’s business and sex, and business and sex. Everything has turned into a calculated regimen. Look, Kate, I’m sorry. I was going to wait until after the wedding for your sake, for Whitney and Arthur’s sake.”
“Wait to do what?”
“End things. It’s over, Kate,” Max said. “I didn’t want to make a scene. Didn’t want to ruin the wedding for our friends and family, but I can’t wait. It’s over.”
“Max, we need to discuss this.”
“Allison—” Max brushed passed Kate and leaned against the counter. “I’m going to need another room. Do you have anything available?”
Allison’s long, lacquered nails click-clacked in an annoyingly efficient way. “Yes, sir. We have only one room left—”
“I’ll take it,” Max said. “Whatever it is.”
“Please, Max! Let’s talk this through.”
“It’s done. It’s over,” Max said. “It has been for a while. I was trying to wait, but…”
“Well, maybe if we actually tried harder and talked about things, we could sort everything out.” Kate felt mysteriously calm as she gave a shake of her head and flicked her sunglasses to the top of her expertly curled pre-sex hair. “Yesterday was a little disagreement. We get into them all the time.”
“We want different things.”
“We’re trying to have a baby together!” Kate’s voice broke, raising the slightest amount. “We’ve been dating for over two years. We’ve discussed marriage. I’m ready to marry you tomorrow.”
“I told you, I’m not interested in getting married.”
“You’re almost fifty, for God’s sakes! Grow up, Max. You want a family, don’t you?”
His eyes flickered with the smallest amount of pain in them. “Yes, I do. That’s why things won’t work between us. I’m sorry. I’ll cover your room and instruct all your bills for the duration of your stay to be put on my credit card. Spend as much as you like, relax, heal. You’ll be over me by the time you leave.”
Allison continued typing through the painfully awkward silence. Eventually, the front des
k clerk produced a second key card, which she handed to Max. Without even a glance at Kate, Max snatched the key and stomped toward the elevators.
That was when she knew for sure. They were over. Done. Finito.
Allison stood there, gaping at Kate. “I’m so sorry.”
Kate couldn’t find the words to speak. She’d been dumped at a wedding she didn’t even want to be at. She could have cut Whitney a fat check and sent along a fake apology instead of sitting in an over-the-top gorgeous spa trying to heal. Kate didn’t need to fucking heal. She needed to get pregnant.
“I’m sorry,” the front desk clerk said again. “Can I send a bottle of champagne to your room?”
It was such an obviously inappropriate, rehearsed response that Kate could do nothing but stare at the woman. When Allison realized what she’d said, she began to stutter, flustered, apologizing over and over. Eventually, Kate put her out of her misery by grabbing the suitcase Max had conspicuously left behind and marching toward the elevator.
There was no way Kate was sitting around the spa for the duration of her trip. How could she possibly relax at the same lush resort where her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—was celebrating with family and friends, probably looking for the new version of her? This time around, he’d want someone who wasn’t broken, someone who could give him children.
Kate felt her eyes sting as she reached the elevator. She’d pop into her room for a second, to clear her head and reassess. Kate was a strong woman, she knew that much. She was smart and successful—and broken.
Yes, I want a family, Max said in her head. That’s why things won’t work between us.
The nerve of him! Kate jammed her room card into the door and waited for the green light to flicker on before giving the solid wooden panel a huge shove. She left her bag in the entrance, stepped over it, and strode across the thickly carpeted floor to the window.
She took no satisfaction in the fact that the room Max had booked for them to share was gorgeous. It offered a view of the desert around them, the blackened mountaintops in the distance offset by glittering pools underfoot. A full-blown Jacuzzi was the centerpiece of the living area, quite a laughable development to Kate, considering the circumstances. Hot tubs were for romance. Kate certainly wasn’t going to use it alone.
Neither was she going to use the custom bottle of wine that sat in a small welcome basket near the television. Kate strolled over and retrieved it, recognizing the name of the Napa Valley vineyard printed on the label. The design was a custom one created for Whitney and Arthur, along with the blend inside. Kate read the sappy quote about love wrapped around the outside and set the bottle down with a snort of disgust. Enough was enough. She couldn’t even escape the reaches of love on her alcohol bottles.
She stepped onto the balcony and stared out at the peculiarly beautiful landscape, the silent, sharp edges of the cacti and palm trees, and found it fitting. Eerily poignant, beautiful and solitary, intimidating and vulnerable.
Next to it all, interwoven, were the big, bold, beautiful touches. Carefully manicured trails wound between sapphire pools and tropical little huts offering all sorts of refreshments (for a fee). Everything glowed beneath the ethereal wash of twilight, while the hotel staff scurried underfoot like ants dressed in fine white linens, smiles pasted on their faces as they buzzed, buzzed, buzzed between customers. They delivered towels, beverages, toothbrushes—whatever pampered their high-paying guests into a sense of false security.
Security—what a laugh, Kate thought. She’d believed her relationship with Max was secure, but how wrong she’d been. She watched as a small army of workers bustled about on the beach to set up for the wedding. There was an arch someone was decorating by hand with flowers, blooms that would surely be dead before the actual ceremony. A practice run, maybe?
There was the spacious, open-aired platform made from tarnished, knotty wood and brushed with sand that would be transformed into Cinderella’s ballroom. Already, white, gauzy fabrics were being hung from the rafters as twinkling little fairy lights danced beneath the stars. The wedding wasn’t for another two days, but like most of the guests, Kate had arrived early due to the suggested stay dates listed on the wedding invitations.
According to the schedule in the lobby, the guests would be keeping busy with rehearsal dinners, groom’s dinners, pampering parties for the ladies, and whiskey tastings for the men. Post-wedding, there would be present-opening ceremonies (plural), massage sessions to unwind for the women, and cigar-rolling extravaganzas for the men. Kate hadn’t had such a full social calendar since college.
As Kate turned her attention back to the landscape, back to the natural scenery, to the trees gusting in the warm night breeze and the sand whispering across the ground, she felt a sense of calmness wash over her shoulders, followed quickly by the chill of sadness.
The sadness, however, bubbled into anger as she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Anger because Max had wasted two precious years of her life. Two precious years she’d never get back, two precious years that could have been put toward building something—a future, a family, a home—with the right man. Instead, Kate had nothing to show for her relationship with Max. He didn’t even have a sock drawer at her house, because he preferred to keep everything at his place “just in case.”
Obviously, “just in case” had arrived, and Kate realized they didn’t have so much as a shared utility bill. There was no discussion needed once they got back to New York. Two days before, she’d been trying to procreate with this man. Today, he felt like a stranger.
Kate wanted to cry, but she knew she couldn’t. She knew she wouldn’t.
With a hit of resolve, Kate left her things where they’d fallen and stormed right back to the elevator. She descended to the main lobby. She strode through, noting the deep, manicured wood on every surface—the bar, the stools, the chairs and couches. Even the accents on the walls, the shelving, had a cabin-like sort of feel, a lush setting the resort had designed to lure its guests into a calming mindset.
Yet Kate’s shoulders had never been stiffer, her mind never more ruffled.
Stalking up to the bar, she leaned over and attracted the attention of the bartender. “Glass of champagne,” she said lightly. “Actually, fuck it. I’ll take the bottle. Put it on the tab of Max Banks.”
“Are you here for the wedding?” A well-preserved, older woman sat next to her handsome husband and smiled up at Kate, not waiting for an answer. “We’re here for the DeBleu/Banks wedding. You’re welcome to join us for a drink if you’d like.”
“Well, I’ve gone and ordered a bottle of champagne, so I could use some help with it,” Kate offered. “I’ve been freshly dumped, and my ex-boyfriend is picking up the tab this weekend.”
“Oh my.” The older woman’s shoulders stiffened, and a frown tilted down her rose-tinted lips. “But you’re so young…and gorgeous.”
“Apparently, we wanted different things,” Kate said.
“Well, I suppose it’s something that he’s footing your bill,” the woman said with a cautious smile. “My name’s Lulu Franc, and this is my husband, Pierce Banks. I do love a good story if you feel like talking.”
“This is where I say good night,” Pierce said, standing and giving Lulu a kiss on the forehead. “I really am exhausted, sweetheart. I’m going to retire to bed. I’ll be waiting up, but don’t rush.”
“Oh, don’t leave on my account,” Kate said. “I’m just a sad, brokenhearted woman.”
“Stay a bit longer, Pierce,” Lulu insisted. “We’ve barely spent any time together since we arrived.”
“I wouldn’t want to interfere.” Pierce flashed a disarming smile, rested his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I’ll be upstairs in bed. Don’t hurry back.”
While a flutter of confusion crossed her face, Lulu kissed her husband on the cheek, then turned her attention to Kate. She regained her com
posure quickly and offered a fresh smile. “Looks like I’ve got a few minutes.”
“Hi there, Lulu,” Kate said, then gestured to the bartender. “Add another bottle of your finest champagne. I’ll be here a while.”
* * *
Detective Ramone: Ms. Feeney, tell me a bit about your job at Serenity Spa & Resort.
Allison Feeney: Well, I’m the front desk clerk, and I was working alongside my coworker, Ashley Pinkett, on the day most of the Banks/DeBleu wedding party was checking in. I assume that’s what this is about?
Detective Ramone: The computer records show you were the one to check in a woman named Kate Cross and her boyfriend, Maximillian Banks.
Allison Feeney: Ex.
Detective Ramone: Excuse me?
Allison Feeney: Ex-boyfriend. I mean, everything blew up right in front of me. I actually offered the poor girl a bottle of champagne, like an idiot. I was just so shocked, you know? Then again, Ms. Cross doesn’t strike me as poor at all. Or a girl. She’s definitely a woman with some money, if you know what I mean. I think I’ve seen her picture in the paper.
Detective Ramone: What was said during the breakup?
Allison Feeney: Oh, I don’t know if I should share. It’s very personal.
Detective Ramone: Well, this is a murder investigation. Please tell me everything you remember.
Allison Feeney: Did she kill him? Did Kate murder Max? Oh, God. Good thing I didn’t ask him out! I thought about seeing if he wanted to get a drink. He was cute, you know, but… Oh, right. Is he dead?
Detective Ramone: Please describe the nature of their argument.
Allison Feeney: Well, I was so stunned, I didn’t catch all that much. I can say for certain that he mentioned some things about her being broken. About how he had wanted to wait until after the wedding to break things off for the sake of their family and friends, and then she wouldn’t let him get a massage, and he sort of exploded then and there. He ordered a second room, and that’s when I asked her about the champagne. Stupid, I know.
