Page 19 of Not Your Basic Love Story

At midnight we went further on the beach and sent the bride and groom off, complete with sparklers and fireworks. Miranda and Derek walked hand-in-hand down the beach to their suite where they’d spend their first night as husband and wife.

I turned to look at Dev. The uncertainty was back, the look in his eyes that he wasn’t sure of something. “You want to call it a night?” I asked.

He nodded. We said polite goodnights to the few people we passed who knew us, Angelina included. Angelina begged us to stay out, to get some shots with her, but that was the last thing I wanted. Wordlessly we made our way back to my suite, the tension between us palpable, but not the sexual kind. My mind raced, wondering what had happened.

Door closed, I sat on the edge of the bed and removed my sandals, peppering the floor with sand. Dev stood by the door, hands in his pockets.

I looked up at him. “I’m sorry if Susan said something that upset you. She tends to do that.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that.”

I stood and gathered my sandals to move them out of the way. “What is it, then?”

“Who’s Graham?”

I froze, a chill running down my spine. The very name brought with it a wave of nausea. Did someone say something? Damnit, Nicole!

“Graham?” I said, swallowing, my stomach in knots.

He pulled a piece of folded card paper from his pocket, edged in gold withhisname on it. Graham Hoffman.

My stomach dropped.

“Was I here to replace him?” he asked.

“No, I…”

“Was this guy supposed to be here with you?”

“Well, yes, but...”

Dev looked around my suite, the king-sized bed once again sprinkled with rose petals, the towel swans kissing. “You were supposed to be here with some other guy. Where is he?”

I swallowed. “We broke up.”

“How long ago?”

I hesitated. “Two weeks ago.”

His eyebrows shot up, startled. “Two weeks?”

There was nothing I could say.

“Am I just some stand-in for you?”

The disappointed look on his face was heartbreaking, and tears tugged at the corner of my eyes. “I’m sorry…”

Though he must have been hurt, he didn’t raise his voice. I was used to being yelled at, but this quiet anger was somehow worse. “Was I a vacation romance for you to get over your ex? A fling? Why didn’t you tell me, Rebecca? You didn’t even mention… you know what? Nevermind. You don’t owe me an explanation. I thought what we had was going to be something more. I guess I read into it too much.”

He set the card down on the dresser and reached for the door.

“Dev, wait!” I said. He hesitated, looking back at me, the hurt evident in his gorgeous brown eyes. And then he left.

I wanted to run out into the hallway, to call for him, to tell him… to tell him what? That I loved him? I’d only just met the guy! And Ihadbroken up with my ex two weeks ago.

Was he right? Had I been using him to ease, no, delay my pain during my friend’s wedding, to make it easier on myself, with no consideration for Dev’s feelings?

The rest of the night was spent in a drunken blur as I cried in the jacuzzi tub, drinking the contents of the minibar. The following morning I was hugging the toilet, regretting my decisions of the previous night.

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