Page 91 of Scandalous Lover

“Me neither.”

My eyes fall closed at his whispered words.

“I’ll see you after the wedding, okay?” he says and disappears up the stairs.

Chapter Thirty

Naomi

But I don’t get to see Sam after the party, or even the following day, as we’re both caught up in the aftermath of the wedding. I’m helping to pack up and distribute decorations and lost belongings to their rightful owners, and Sam’s days are filled to the brim with every single other thing that goes into running a resort of this size.

Luckily, he’s gotten really good at keeping his phone on him, so we keep up a near constant chat under our aliases. After he told me that he named my contact Natalie, I changed his to Smith, making our inability to be in the same room at the same time more like a little game.

Naomi: That was quite a day yesterday, how are you holding up?

Sam: I got out of here at eleven, luckily, and got some sleep. Good thing, too, because I had to swing over and pick up the morning front desk person when their cart wouldn’t start this morning at five.

Naomi: Daaaang. I was barely getting home at five. I stayed to help with wrapping up the party after these crazy kids danced until three and then had drinks with the staff.

Sam: Ah, I remember those days.

Naomi: The good old days?

Sam: Nah. I prefer to be the boss. Make my own schedule. Make other people stay until three and clean up after drunk wedding guests.

Naomi: What else do you like making people do, Mr. Boss?

Sam: If only you could make it up here before my next meeting, I’d show you.

Naomi: I can run stairs pretty quickly…what’s your timeframe?

Sam: They just arrived. Sorry, princess.

While I’m dying to sink into Sam’s arms in a private corner somewhere, it also feels really good to be an important part of this project. After my photographer duties were a wrap last night, I stayed to help wherever was needed, and it turned out that was everywhere. I can’t even describe the feeling of finally watching the last guest hit the elevator call button and getting to collapse into a chair and drink wine out of a coffee cup with the rest of the crew.

I was needed. I was wanted. I was part of a team.

This morning, I got up as early as I could manage, arriving to find grateful, welcoming faces downstairs onwedding clean up. They put me to work right away, and I stay and help until the last task is marked off the list.

“Thank you so much for all you did,” Fran says as she hugs me tight, preparing to hop into her golf cart and leave the resort for the first time in nearly forty-eight hours.

“You haven’t even seen the pictures yet,” I protest, but I’m overjoyed by her praise.

She pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, grinning. “Even if there weren’t fabulous pictures to look forward to, I would still appreciate you. I don’t know how I’m going to pull off next month’s wedding without you. They want a champagne fountain. Like it’s the nineties or something.”

I laugh, but her words also sting a bit. I try not to let my disappointment show.

She’s so quick to assume that I’ll be gone by then, and maybe she’s right. I do have my own life to get back to, don’t I? Fran’s just trying to be supportive, to let me know that she believes in my ability to recover from the setback of my cancellation.

“That’s going to be a sight to see,” I say, taking a step back.

“See you in a couple days,” she says, tossing me a wave as she slips into the passenger seat beside Avery. “Have fun with the island all to yourself!” A wink and they’re gone.

I smile and turn back to head into the lobby, but I realize there’s nothing left for me to do there.

The wedding is totally wrapped up.

I have my bag on my arm already.

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