Page 1 of Love, Take Two

1

EMORY

Flying to a tropical paradise to watch your ex marry someone else? Peak emotional maturity right there.

I adjust my camera angle to catch the late afternoon sun streaming through the palm trees as my taxi winds up the coastal road to Paradise Cove Resort. The view is ridiculous—turquoise water that looks like it's been Photoshopped, white sand beaches that stretch endlessly, and lush green mountains rising dramatically in the background. My travel influencer heart sings while my credit card balance weeps.

"This is incredible," I murmur into my phone's camera, switching to video mode. "Guys, I cannot even begin to describe how stunning Serenity Island is. Look at this view." I pan the camera across the coastline, keeping my voice upbeat and excited while internally calculating how much this week is going to cost me. "I'm heading to Paradise Cove Resort for what promises to be a legendary celebration, and I'm already blown away."

The taxi driver grins at me in the rearview mirror. "First time to Paradise Cove?"

"First time to the island entirely," I say, still filming. "I've seen the photos online, but nothing prepared me for this in person."

What I don't mention to my 2.5 million TikTok followers is that the "legendary celebration" is my ex-girlfriend Erika's wedding to some banker named Jared, or that I've been stress-eating airport snacks for the past six hours because I'm nervous about seeing her get married. Those kinds of details don't exactly fit the carefree adventure traveler brand I've spent three years building.

The resort gates come into view—massive wooden structures carved with tropical designs and flanked by gardens that probably cost more to maintain than I made last month. A security guard waves us through with a brilliant white smile, and suddenly we're driving through what can only be described as paradise engineered for Instagram.

Every single detail has been designed for maximum visual impact. The main building rises in elegant curves of white stone and glass, with infinity pools cascading down multiple levels toward the ocean. Palm trees sway at perfectly calculated intervals, and I spot at least three different waterfalls integrated into the landscaping. Couples lounge on daybeds that look like they cost more than my rent, and everything is bathed in that golden hour light making photographers weep with joy.

"Holy shit," I breathe, then quickly stop recording. That's definitely not going in the final cut.

The taxi pulls up to the main entrance, where uniformed staff members are already approaching with genuine smiles and tropical drinks on silver trays. This is a five-star resort that caters to people who don't look at price tags, and for the next week, I'm going to have to pretend I'm one of them.

"Welcome to Paradise Cove!" A stunning woman with a flawless smile and a name tag reading "Ezalea" approaches my door. "You must be Mr. Wise. We're absolutely thrilled to have you here for the Laurent-Williams celebration."

I climb out of the taxi, accepting the offered drink—something fruity and strong that probably costs twenty dollars but tastes like vacation in liquid form. "Thank you so much. This place is incredible."

"Wait until you see your suite," Ezalea says, leading me toward the entrance while staff members handle my luggage with the kind of efficiency that comes from serious hospitality training. "Ms. Laurent specifically requested that all her content creator guests receive our premium ocean view accommodations."

Of course she did. Erika always thinks of everything, which is one of the many reasons she's going to make an amazing wife. Not to me, though.

The lobby outdoes the exterior. Soaring ceilings, exposed wooden beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows frame the ocean view. The live-edge furniture probably costs more than my car, and everything whispers luxury instead of screaming it.

I discreetly pull out my phone to check my credit card balance while Ezalea handles check-in procedures. The numbers make my stomach clench, but I remind myself that this content should generate enough sponsored post opportunities to justify the expense. Probably. Hopefully.

"So the Laurent-Williams celebration," Ezalea says as we wait for the key cards to process, "this is going to be quite the week. A full seven days of festivities, and I understand there's going to be significant social media documentation?"

"Definitely," I say, switching back into professional mode. "Erika—Ms. Laurent—has an incredible following, and I'm sure everyone's going to want to share this experience." I pause. "It's not every day you get to witness a love story this beautiful in a setting this stunning."

The words come easily because they're true. Erika and I might not have worked out romantically, but I want her to be happy. She deserves someone who can give her the stability and commitment she's looking for. Someone whose idea of financial planning extends beyond "hopefully this post goes viral."

"Mr. Wise, you're all set," Ezalea says, handing me two key cards and a thick information packet. "You're in the Sunset Suite on the fourth floor. Ocean view, private balcony, and you actually have adjoining accommodations with another member of the wedding party."

"Adjoining?" I ask, accepting the keys. "Like, connecting rooms?"

"Exactly. The suites share a private terrace area—it's quite lovely for morning coffee or evening cocktails. Very popular with our guests."

Another staff member appears to escort me to my suite, and I follow him through corridors lined with local artwork and toward an elevator bank that overlooks yet another infinity pool. The attention to detail here is insane—every surface, every view, every single design element has been optimized for that perfect shot.

"The suite amenities include complimentary WiFi, daily housekeeping, premium minibar, and access to all resort facilities," my escort explains as we rise to the fourth floor. "TheLaurent-Williams celebration has exclusive use of the Sunset Pavilion for ceremonies and the Crown Restaurant for private dining events."

"Sounds amazing," I say, while internally wondering if I should have packed actual formal wear instead of just "really nice casual" clothes. Erika's always moved in circles where people know the difference between expensive and really expensive, and I have a feeling this week is going to lean heavily toward the latter.

The hallway we emerge into is gorgeous—polished stone floors, tropical plants in massive ceramic pots, and massive windows showcasing ocean views at every turn. My escort stops at a door marked "Sunset Suite 4A" and hands me one of my key cards.

“Sllide this here," he says, demonstrating. "And enjoy your stay, Mr. Wise. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call the concierge."

The door opens to reveal what might be the most beautiful hotel room I've ever seen, and I've stayed in some incredible places for content. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominate the far wall, showcasing an unobstructed ocean view. The bed is massive and draped in white linens with a higher thread count than my entire wardrobe. Modern furniture in warm wood tones complements traditional island textiles, and fresh tropical flowers sit in arrangements throughout the space.

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