“Gotcha.” I popped my lips around a scarlet lipstick. “She doesn’t want to talk. That’s fine.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to talk.” Trinity’s face invaded the phone camera, two stains of blush marring her cheeks. She looked otherwise pale and worried. And, if I wasn’t mistaken, was also dressed like a nun in an attempt to impress her future in-laws. “It’s just that…Christ, Nessy, Catherine is already such a pain in the…”
“Mass,” Bear completed for her.
He knew I didn’t like profanity.
“That,” Trinity agreed. “And now she is going around muttering mean things under her breath about us. Oh, Nessy, she is so awful.”
Something in my chest eased that she was talking to me again. Maybe it was just wedding stress?
“Look, I’m sorry. It was an honest mistake. What does Wyatt say about all this?”
I applied a third coat of mascara, waiting to hear a knock on the door and find a wrinkled-looking Cruz. So far, the morning had been blissfully Costello-free, but I wasn’t counting on that to last.
“He’s not saying anything.” Trinity sighed. “His parents are his idols. He’ll never go against them.”
“Sounds like a catch.”
“Don’t give me lip, Nessy. You’ve no right after the life choices you’ve made.”
Ouch.
“Well, hang in there, okay? I’ll make it better when I see them. I’ll apologize a thousand times. I swear.”
After hanging up and looking overly made up—I didn’t need a weekly therapist appointment to know it was a camouflage technique designed to protect myself from society—I strutted out of my room, swinging a little faux-fur purse.
I looked about as classy as a ketchup stain on a strapless cropped top and was perfectly okay with that.
After all, I couldn’t be accused of trying to bag a British royal on a cruise from North Carolina to the Bahamas.
I couldn’t find Cruz anywhere during breakfast, which contributed greatly to my sense of urgency to fix whatever I messed up between my family and the Costellos.
Afterwards, on my way to the pool, I strutted by a glass-walled library overlooking the ocean and spotted him sitting by himself, looking fresh as a daisy, wearing an entire outfit I’d seen on a mannequin the day before from the boardwalk in Prada’s window.
Black Bermuda shorts, a chunky navy top, and his big, bold watch.
He’d so spent the night in Cruise Director Lady Woman’s room. If anyone was giving anyone STDs, it was this gasstard. I made a note not to get anywhere near Gabriella Holland’s southern region when we did our bridesmaids’ fittings.
He was sipping an espresso and catching up on the news on an iPad attached to the table by a security wire.
Taking a few calming breaths, I pushed the glass door to the library open and sashayed toward him, stopping right in front of him.
Low elevator music filled the room, which was full with men of fifty-five and over. I wondered at what point in time, exactly, Cruz Costello had morphed from a dashing Q1 with steel buns to a Floridian pensioner.
“Did you know constantly reading the news is almost as detrimental to your heart as smoking?” I blurted. Because saying stupid stuff had always been easier than apologizing.
He didn’t look up from the iPad, swiping his finger across it to turn a page.
“I didn’t know that, because it’s not true. Cite your source.”
“Southern Belle magazine.”
“Allow me to be skeptical. Is this your version of an apology?” His words rippled through me.
Dang, he had a good, low voice.
“If I’m going to apologize, so should you.”
He looked up, lounging back on the plush, brown recliner he was occupying, a puff of his undiluted woody scent invading my nostrils, making everything under my naval tingle.
“What for?”
“Telling Brendan we were cousins, and married, and carrying STDs. In that exact order.”
“Fair enough,” he surprised me by saying. “You go first.”
I closed my eyes.
I wasn’t four anymore.
Then why was it so hard to apologize?
Your sister’s happiness is on the line. Now’s not the time to have pride.
“Sorry I booked us the wrong tickets. I truly, truly didn’t mean to.”
“In that case, I apologize for embarrassing you in front of your little friend, but reserve the right to do it again when provoked, on the grounds it was more fun than I’ve had in years.” He motioned toward the chair next to him. “Coffee?”
“Please.” I sat down, feeling a little awkward.
The truth was, I wasn’t used to being served. I’d always been the one doing the serving. Nonetheless, a waitress from the attached coffee shop came to take my order—a flat white and a French-sounding pastry I couldn’t pronounce, but could point out on the menu.
It occurred to me that I had to pay for my food, and I hated myself for not sticking with free breakfast, served earlier, or the free twenty-four-hour buffet on the lido deck I had too much pride to bail to.
But I had the tip money from yesterday in my purse, so I wouldn’t have to tally it up on my monthly Excel sheet. I could still get Bear his video game at the end of the month. Maybe.
“So. Did you get lucky yesterday?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“If by lucky you mean I didn’t have to spend the night with you, then yes.”
“Did you spend it with someone else?” I asked casually.
“Yes.”
Okay, that was not supposed to hurt. Certainly not the way it did. I was tangled in tight vines of jealousy that suffocated me.
“Nice. Is she from our neck of the woods?”
“Unsure.” Cruz flipped another page on the iPad. “She was a fifty-year-old Prada saleswoman who secretly rented me her top bunk on the staff deck and opted to sleep with your Brendan, making a hundred-percent profit margin.”
Holy clap.
Dr. Costello was resourceful.
He must’ve mistaken my surprised face for another emotion, because he said slowly and thickly, “Sorry it didn’t work between you and lover boy. Unless, of course, you don’t mind being Bonnie and Brendan’s fifth wheel.”
“He can have Bonnie.”
“From what she told me, when she came to get her electronic card back this morning, you also told him I have two penises.”
I could feel myself getting redder and redder, but I didn’t reply to this.
Cruz threw me a little patronizing smirk. “Actually, I have just the one, but I can see why you’d make that mistake, considering its length and width. I’m flattered you paid such close attention.”
“Why’d you say you weren’t alone, then? She wasn’t with you.”
“Just to see your face. You hate seeing me win.”
“True.” I sighed. “Which sucks, because you’re Dr. Cruz Costello, so you always win.”
“Not always.”
There was a lull in the conversation, and I felt the urge to fill it, somehow.
“I have to say, it’s pretty creative of you to find a way to take my potential sugar daddy away from me before I even made a move.”