Page 8 of Love, Take Two

This week is going to be interesting.

4

VADA

I close my suite door and immediately lean back against it, letting out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My heart is still racing from seeing Emory, and I need a moment to process what just happened before I take a few clips for social media.

Emory Wise. In the flesh. At my ex-boyfriend's wedding to his ex-girlfriend.

I push off from the door and head toward the bathroom, pulling out my phone to create some quick content while my makeup is still intact and the evening lighting is perfect through the windows.

"Hey everyone," I say to my camera, managing what I hope looks like my normal bright smile. "Just got back from the most gorgeous welcome cocktail party. Paradise Cove is absolutely incredible, and meeting all the other guests has been so much fun." I pan the camera to show the stunning ocean view from my suite. "Tomorrow starts a full week of celebrations, and I cannot wait to share this beautiful experience with all of you."

I end the video and set my phone aside, not trusting myself to create any more content until I've processed whatever happened downstairs. My followers expect authentic behind-the-scenes moments, but "guess who I just ran into, literally ran into, my college boyfriend" feels like too much authenticity for a Monday night.

I start removing my makeup, using the familiar routine to calm my racing thoughts. Eight years. God, he looks incredible. Older, but in all the right ways. Those warm brown eyes remain unchanged, and his smile still gives me butterflies I thought I'd outgrown.

The bathroom lighting is phenomenal, and I catch myself wondering if he's creating content right now too. Probably. His travel influencer account has always been impressive, and a resort like this is exactly the kind of place his followers would want to see.

Focus, Vada. This is about supporting Jared's happiness, not getting distracted by your college boyfriend who you haven't thought about in... okay, fine, who you've definitely thought about but only in a nostalgic way that doesn't mean anything.

I change into comfortable pajamas and settle onto the gorgeous bed with my laptop, planning to do some work. Building my event planning business means I can't afford to take a full week off, even in paradise. I have three upcoming weddings to coordinate, and I should use this time to create some inspiration content that—

"Yeah, Carlos, it's insane."

I freeze. That's Emory's voice, clear as if he's standing in my room instead of next door. The adjoining wall situation is going to be more of a privacy issue than I anticipated.

I shouldn't listen to his conversation. I should put on headphones or turn up music—anything other than eavesdropping on my college ex-boyfriend talking to whoever Carlos is.

"No, I didn't know she was going to be here," Emory continues. His voice drifts through the thin wall as if he's standing beside me. "Trust me, if I'd known Jared had also dated Vada, I would have mentioned that my ex was marrying my college girlfriend's ex-boyfriend."

College girlfriend. The casual way he refers to me sends an odd pang through my chest that I don't want to analyze.

"She looks incredible, man. I mean, she always did, but she's grown into herself, you know? More confident. More successful. She's building her own event planning business now."

Wait, how does he know about my business? We haven't talked about careers yet beyond basic pleasantries.

"This dude, Derek somebody, started with the oversharing," Emory says with a laugh I remember from late-night conversations in our shared apartment senior year. "Announced to everyone that 'Jared dumped her' and brought up her corporate job situation. Guy has zero filter."

I wince. Derek's tactless commentary was worse than I remembered, and it was obvious enough that Emory picked up on how uncomfortable it made me.

"No, it wasn't weird seeing her," Emory continues, though something in his tone suggests otherwise. "I mean, it was surprising, obviously, but we ended things well. No drama, no hard feelings. We just grew apart after graduation, wanted different things."

That's accurate, though hearing him summarize our entire relationship history in two sentences feels oddly reductive. We were together for two years, lived together senior year, talked about post-graduation plans that just naturally led us in different directions. It wasn't dramatic or painful; we both knew we were better as friends than as a couple trying to force something that wasn't quite right.

"The problem is we're in adjoining suites," Emory says, and I can hear him moving around, probably pacing the way he used to when he was processing something complicated. "Like, connecting rooms with a shared terrace. And Erika wants to pair us together for all the couple activities this week because we're both single."

There's a pause, and I assume Carlos is responding to this information.

"Yeah. A whole week in close quarters with someone I used to be in love with, pretending we're casual friends while everyone analyzes our every interaction for signs of romantic drama."

Used to be in love with.

That phrase hits differently than I expected. Because he's right—we did love each other, in that intense, all-consuming way that happens in college when everything feels like the most important thing ever. But hearing Emory acknowledge it out loud, even to someone else, brings back memories I thought I'dfiled away safely in the "fond college experiences" category of my brain.

"She seems happy for Jared," Emory continues. "No jealousy or weirdness about watching him marry someone else."

"No, I'm not still hung up on her," Emory says, answering a question I couldn't hear. "It's been eight years, Carlos. We're different people now. She's building this successful business, I'm making decent money with the social media stuff... we've both moved on."

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