The Honeymooner

by Melanie Summers

  I allow Richard to help me swap out the tissue, then stand, watching him in the mirror as he talks.

  “I have a confession to make,” he says.

  I narrow my eyes, wondering if he did cheat on me, then swiftly realize how hypocritical that is, which leads me to the thought that actually, no, I didn’t cheat because he broke up with me before I got here — in a very shitty way, I might add.

  “It really was that picture you posted of you paddleboarding that sealed it for me. I mean, it's not just the bikini — although I do love you in a bikini — it's that you were willing to change for me. You really heard me when I said how boring our life was, and I honestly didn't know if you would. It was just such an awful moment for both of us, and I wasn't sure how much of it you were actually taking in, but then I see you posting these pictures of yourself parasailing and snorkelling and paddleboarding, and I thought, ‘Wow, she’s just so fun. I need to be there with her.’” He pauses and just stares at me like a sad puppy. “Say something, sweetie. I need to know what you're thinking.”

  “I need more toilet paper,” I say, my words coming out muffled.

  He shakes his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. Here you are with this horrible affliction, and I'm just rambling on about my own feelings. If I'm not careful, you're going to start thinking you were lucky to get away from me.”

  I let out a nervous laugh and say, “Yeah. Listen, if you could give me a few minutes, I’d like to get myself cleaned up.”

  “Of course. Of course you do. Okay, I'll just go sit in the room and wait for you.” He nods repeatedly, then backs out like a servant leaving an evil queen. Shutting the door behind him, he leaves me alone with my panic.

  Oh my God, what am I going to do? I don't even have my phone in the bathroom with me, so it's not like I can secretly call Alice or text her to get some advice. Think, Libby, think.

  I breathe deeply while I wait for my nose to stop bleeding. Then I wash my face and brush my teeth — not because I want fresh breath for Richard, but more because I need the extra time to figure out what I'm going to say to him when I walk out there.

  I stand with my hand on the doorknob for a ridiculously long time before I finally decide just to wing it. Opening the door, I find him sitting at the desk on the far side of the room, reading over my reports. It's always been a bit of a pet peeve of mine, because he tends to give me unsolicited advice even though he's never worked in mergers and acquisitions. To be fair, as a corporate lawyer, he does have a fair bit of knowledge. But still…he’s quite mansplainy about it.

  “Why two reports with completely different conclusions?” he asks, furrowing his brow together.

  “The first one I wrote up is wrong. I got some new information last night that made me rethink the whole deal.” Not that it's any of your business.

  “Huh, well, that must've been one hell of a discovery last night for you to go from wanting to advise GlobalLux to back out to writing up a detailed plan for a major expansion project.”

  Oh, it was one hell of a discovery, all right. Seven of them, actually.

  I set my shoulders back and stare him down for a second. “Yes, the property owner had a hidden gem that really made all the difference in the value of the property. It was a total game changer.”

  He shrugs nonchalantly even though I think he might suspect there's more to my change of heart than I'm letting on. Standing, he says, “I've actually got some stellar work-related news as well,” smiling as he walks over to me.

  “Really?” I ask, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  “I’m up for partner.” He stops, obviously waiting for some huge reaction from me he doesn’t get. “On Tuesday, Morris told me I’m his front-runner. There are a couple of tiny things I need to do first to lock it in, but both are basically as good as done.”

  “That's amazing, Richard. Congratulations.”

  “Congratulations to us, sweetheart. The bonus alone will be enough for the down payment on that house on Waldorf Lane.” He pulls me in for a hug, careful not to press my nose against his shirt.

  Us? Waldorf freaking Lane? I’ve just been told everything I’ve always wanted is right within grasp, and instead of feeling elated, I feel…nothing. I’m numb. And that’s not how I should feel, is it?

  Giving me a kiss on the forehead, he pulls back and smiles down at me. “It's everything we wanted, Libby. And Morris said I can take the next week off with you to celebrate. If you want to get married here, we can. I'll go out first thing in the morning and get the license so we can be married by tomorrow afternoon. Or if you’d rather wait and do the big church wedding, I’ll get Daniella on it immediately, and she can have the entire thing ready by the time we get home.”

  I push him away gently and shake my head, feeling uncomfortably hot. “Stop, just stop. Less than a month ago, you literally left me at the altar and told me you didn't love me anymore. Now all of a sudden, you show up without any warning and tell me you want to get married right away?”

  He looks taken aback. “I thought you’d be happy. You’ve always wanted to get married, and now I’m saying, let’s just do it.”

  “That was before…” I say, gesturing out to the sides with both hands.

  “But you posted those pictures to show me how much you're trying to change, didn’t you?”

  I nod. “Yep, I did.” He’s got me there. A mere seven days ago, I was desperately trying to get his attention, but somehow everything changed when I got nothing back, and then…Harrison gave me so much.

  Richard smiles and presses one palm to his heart. “I knew if you would do that for me, I had no choice but to fly halfway across the world to get you back. But if you need some time to let this sink in, that's more than fair. I completely understand.”

  “Yeah, that would be best.” I slide on my flip-flops and grab the card key for my room off the desk. “I'm going to go for a walk. Alone. I need to think.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll just unpack my things and get settled while you’re gone.”

  He beams, and I stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly I feel for him. The only word that pops into my brain isn’t a feeling at all. It’s nothing.

  ***

  I walk out of the building and straight down the path without even thinking of where I'm going. My feet take me to Harrison's villa, obviously, because my feet are attached to the rest of my body, which includes my naughty bits, which are clearly jonesing for some more of Harrison’s length and girth.

  How can I be thinking about sex at a time like this?! Oh, dear, I’m in some serious trouble, aren’t I? I mean, Richard finally shows up and says everything I’ve been dreaming he’d say, which means I can still get my perfect life. All I have to do is say yes, and the entire thing will unfold before me like one of those origami swan napkins (you know the ones—you pull on the beak, and it magically fans out).

  I knock on the door, not sure if I'm hoping Harrison will answer or not. Somehow, I feel like as soon as I see his face, I'll know what to do. I wait for a minute, but nobody comes to the door. Sighing, I start for the beach, hoping he's out for a run and we’ll find each other like we did once before.

  My head swirls with everything that's just happened, and it's hard for me to believe that in the last twenty-four hours, I've thought I was maybe falling in love with someone other than my fiancé, and now I’m faced with a choice I never thought I’d have to make. My thoughts switch back and forth between Richard and Harrison…and land on Richard.

  I think about how excited he looked, and how he was saying all the right things and doing all the right things and offering me the life I’ve always wanted. I should definitely say yes to him. I mean, it’s the safest choice, right? The responsible thing to do.

  Plus, I know exactly what I’m getting into with Richard. He loves me — in spite of the whole wedding thing. After all, he did come all the way here to try to get me back. And if I go home with him, I’ll be r
eturning to the life I know — Saturday mornings at the farmer’s market, fine dining, stability, my family and best friends nearby. With Harrison, it’s a whole lot of terrifying uncertainty, which quite frankly isn’t my comfort zone.

  I should say yes to Richard. Yes to my old life. Yes to the dream house a few blocks from Alice and Jack’s, where we can raise our children. It’s the logical decision.

  Then why doesn’t any of that sound even remotely appealing to me right now? Is it just residual bitterness from the wedding? Dammit. Why can’t someone just tell me what to do?

  TWENTY-THREE

  Dick Can Suck it for a Change

  Harrison

  The sun is just starting to set as I hurry over to Libby's building. I take the steps two at a time and hold the door open for some of our guests who look dressed to go out for dinner.

  “Have a great night,” I say as I hurry past them, feeling completely alive.

  When I knock on her door, my chest pounds with excitement and I think about the wonderful evening I have in store for us. I lean on the doorframe and grin as I hear the chain unlatch.

  When the door swings open, I say, “Hey, beautiful” at the same time a man says, “There you are, darling.”

  We both stare at each other for a long moment before either of us says anything more. The guy has the phrase ‘old money’ written all over him, with his lame boat shoes and fancy ‘I’m on a tropical vacay’ pants, and I’m pretty sure he’s never seen the business end of a wrench. I immediately dislike him, and not because he called me darling either.

  I’m the first to speak again. “You must be Dick.”

  “Richard. And you are…?” he says, cracking his knuckles.

  “Harrison Banks.”

  “Oh, yes. Libby told me about you.” His eyes are hard enough to make me wonder if she told him everything. “Can I help you with something?”

  “No. Is she here?”

  “I’m afraid she’s just stepped out. Oh, you’re probably here for her report, yes? She was printing it just in time for my arrival.” He turns and walks over to the desk. Picking up a stack of papers, he says, “She finished her work just in time to celebrate our future. I’ve been made partner at the largest law firm in the U.K.”

  My stomach drops to the floor at hearing Dick’s happy tone and seeing the smug grin on his face. Through clenched teeth, I ask, “When will she be back? I need to ask her a few things about this report.”

  He walks back to me, his gait stiff. Handing the report to me, he says, “Why don’t you email your questions to her? She’ll be a bit busy tonight, if you get my drift.”

  I stare at him for a moment, pressing my tongue against the inside of my teeth while I decide whether or not I should just punch him. Realizing that's not really the best option, I say, “Yup, I'm pretty sure I know what you mean.”

  “We'll probably lock ourselves in our little love nest here for a few days before going back home to get married. Or if she’s in a real hurry to get on with the wedding, we may just beam out tomorrow morning. Shall I tell her you said goodbye?”

  What a fucking douche.

  “No need. I know how to get in touch with her.” I glare at him for a moment, rage coursing through my veins. “You know you don’t deserve her, right?”

  “Oh, and who does? Someone like you, perhaps?” he says, wrinkling up his nose. “A man who ran his business into the ground? I think she’ll be better off with me, thanks — someone who can really take care of her.”

  “Take care of her?” I scoff. “You mean like abandoning her on her wedding day and telling her she’s too boring for anyone to love? Like that, you mean?”

  His head snaps back in shock, and he opens his mouth in what I’m sure would be a total douchey douche bag comeback, but I cut him off with, “Nice fucking boat shoes.”

  With that, I turn and walk out, letting the door shut behind me.

  ***

  Have you ever been faced with something so horrible, the effort you put into wishing it wasn’t true was enough to make you feel like you’d just finished an Ironman? Because that's how I feel right now.

  I’ve been sitting on my couch sipping bourbon and reading over Libby’s report line by line. She’s written a scathing assessment that basically makes me sound like the world’s most inept resort operator.

  Her projections for Paradise Bay are bleak, to say the least, and I do my best to separate my feelings for her from what she's written, but it's nearly impossible. It all feels so personal because it is. The failures she sees are mine to claim.

  Among the papers is a sheet I'm certain she didn't want me to see. Part of me wonders if Dick saw it and tucked it in for me to find, because I can’t see her being so cruel to include it on purpose or so careless to leave it in by accident.

  HARRISON’S WEAKNESSES:

  - me in lacy knickers

  - hero complex

  - attachment to staff

  Richard’s smug face pops back into my head every twenty seconds or so, and it's all I can do not to go back over there and beat him to a pulp. I try not to think about what they might be doing right now, because the thought of his hands on her — and any other part of his body on her for that matter — makes me want to vomit.

  Maybe if I’d had a few more days with her, she would have realized I’m the one who sees her, not him. I don’t need her to be someone she isn’t. I love her exactly the way she is. Or I thought I did. I stare down at the report again, and it finally hits me: I’ve been played.

  She was just stringing me along so she could…what? Get in my pants?

  Sipping my drink, I try to figure out what the hell just happened and what my next move should be. I toss the papers onto the coffee table and sit back on the couch, rubbing my eyes. How did I go from feeling so incredible to so incredibly bad in one evening?

  I cringe when I think of all that cheesy shit I said about her being a beautiful butterfly, not a clam. What was I thinking? This was just business for her and should have been for me too.

  Part of me can't help wondering if maybe the two of them do belong together. She'll obviously never want for anything with Dickhead, whereas she clearly sees me as some sort of…I don’t know what.

  The door swings open, and in walks Emma, three sheets to the wind. “Hey, brotha! Whatreyoudoinghere?” She plunks herself on the couch next to me. “I thought you’d be spending the night with your laddddayyy. Did you two get into a fight or something?”

  “Not exactly. More like, I found out what she really thinks of me, and it turns out it’s not all that flattering.” I point to the report.

  Emma leans forward and picks it up, then squints at the first page for a minute. Turning to me, she says, “Yeah, can you just give me the gist? I’m a little tipsy right now.”

  “You don’t say,” I answer, wincing at the smell of her breath. “It basically states that the resort is poorly built, has been poorly maintained, and would be a horrible investment.”

  Emma wrinkles up her nose. “What? That’s crazy. Why would Libby say that? She seemed so nice…”

  “I honestly don’t know. Last night she sounded like this place was full of potential, but this…” I shake my head and sigh. “She played me.”

  “But why? So her company would be able to buy us for cheap?”

  “That’s the weird thing. She recommended they don’t make an offer.”

  Emma looks up at the ceiling. “Okay, I’m not following, but full disclosure, I am actually really very drunk, so…”

  “That’s okay. I’m not following either.” I rub the back of my neck. “Maybe we should just sell to Stewart. We could use some of the money for you to finish school and protect the pension fund. And I could maybe buy a catamaran and spend the rest of my days taking people out on booze cruises.” The thought makes me want to hurl, but then again, how much less stress would that be for me compared to this?

  “Are you
serious? One bad report, and you’re ready to give up?” She tries to snap her fingers but misses, then gets distracted trying to snap them again and again.

  I pat her leg and smile. “You should have a glass of water and get some sleep.”

  She finally lets her hand fall to her lap and rests her head on my shoulder. “You can’t give up, Harrison. This is our home.”

  “You need to know when you’re beat. And when you are, you have to roll with the—”

  Sitting up suddenly, she points a finger in my face. “Don’t say it. Do not say roll with the punches. That’s just an excuse for giving up,” she slurs. “And you’re not a quitter. You’re Super-Harrison. I know I’ve never told you this, but you’re my hero. You can do anything. Always could, you beautiful bastard.” Emma leans in and pats me on the cheek, too hard. “But don’t tell Will. He thinks he’s the hero, but it’s you. It’s always been you.”

  I feel a lump in my throat for some stupid reason and clear it away. “I’m not super anything.”

  “Yes, you are. So don’t go making some stupid excuse to give up just because she hurt your feelings.”

  “It’s not an excuse, Emma. As the guy who’s been holding it all together for over a decade, I’m probably the best one to know when it’s all unraveling.”

  “Nope. We can fix it. We’re a family, which means we can fix anything if we work together,” she says, nodding wildly. Then she closes her eyes and leans back on the couch. “Just give me a minute to think of a way…”

  “And she’s out,” I murmur.

  I get up and pick up a blanket off the armchair, then take off her shoes and cover her up. As I arrange Emma on her side and tuck a pillow under her head, I think of the last woman I looked after who was in this shape.