Page 55 of Beach Bodies

‘Thank God you didn’t.’

‘What’s the point?’ I spit. I’m nearly hyperventilating. This is why we don’t talk. Because I can’t stay unemotional with the woman who set herself against me– against us. Against her own daughter. ‘Just tell me what the point is! I don’t understand!’

‘The point is to do the right thing, even when it’s hard.’

‘But it’s not right, Beth Ann! It’s—’

‘We gave you Taste of Heaven free and clear,’ she cuts in. ‘We didn’t ask for a cent from Jessica’s part of the business. We have been more than generous with you. We gave you what was yours, and all we’re asking is for you to respect what’s ours.’

My teeth are clenched, distorting my words. ‘I. Can’t. It’s wrong. It’swrong.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Lily, but this conversation is over.’

She disconnects.

With a growl of rage, I throw my phone. It lands somewhere in the sand. Then I bury my face in my knees.

I rub my finger, hard. The finger where my ring would have gone, too. I bought a diamond ring for Jessica and a simple band for myself. I didn’t propose at the Riovan, but I thought there would be chances back in Cincinnati. Then she spiralled so fast… by the time I realized she needed professional help, a proposal didn’t feel right. We checked her into Restore30 for their thirty-day programme. When she came out, I should have proposed then, right away. Instead… fuck. And now, here I am.

I feel like a widow, but I was just the girlfriend.

Finally, I get up. Recover my phone. Brush it off.

My whole body feels numb, but I force myself to walk back to my room. River is in the shower, thankfully. I huddle in my bed under the covers without taking off my clothes. I’m still filthy and sweaty from my day at Brisebleue and my painful minutes intimately bonding with Daniel’s floor, but I don’t have the energy to move.

Maybe when River gets out I’ll hop in the shower. Maybe I’ll feel some sharpness return, some sense of being in control, but right now I feel completely hollowed out.

Maybe I’ll …

Chapter Twenty

I sit upright in bed, heart thundering as hard as if I’d been running, sweat rolling down my body.

The green numbers on the hotel alarm clock say 2.36a.m. The room is black around me– and sweltering. I throw the bedcovers off my legs and take a minute to just breathe.

I was having a dream about Beth Ann vacuuming incessantly outside my door… I look over at River, whose mouth is open, emitting a rhythmic rattle.Right.Snoring roommate.

Well, there’s no getting back to sleep in this heat. Is the AC off? I cartwheel my legs over the side of the bed and pad over to the digital thermostat by the bathroom. Ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit? That can’t be right– and yet I can feel the confirming thickness in the air, like I’m inhaling hot soup.

When a sharp, rapping sound comes from the door, I muffle a yelp, adrenaline jolting me more awake than I’d like to be at this hour. I put a hand to my chest to try and help my heart recover. Anger follows. Who the hell is knocking at this time of night? Daniel?

I walk over to the door ready to give someone a piece of my mind, but first, put my eye to the peephole. I nearly reel back in shock as I take in the distorted face looking at me, hair in disarray, eyes wide, mascara smudged.

Carli Elle?

My fingers make a frantic fumble to unlock the chain and deadbolt. I fling open the door.

The hallway yawns back at me. No one there. The hall lights flicker, then dim.

‘Carli?’ I say softly, as a gust of chilly air raises goosebumps on my body.

Using a foot to keep the door propped open, I step out into the hall. There she is, all the way at the end of the hall, walking quickly away from me. The lights are flickering and buzzing like a beehive.

‘Carli!’ I call out. Damn it– if I go back inside the room to find my key, I’ll lose her. There’s only one thing to do. Letting the door close behind me, I sprint after her, to the corner she disappeared around, just in time to see her slip through a doorway.

It’s a lot chillier out here, reminding me that I’m dressed only in my sleep tank top and a faded pair of polka-dot PJ shorts. I shiver. I reach the place where she disappeared– the ice machine room– and step cautiously inside. No Carli. The buzz is louder here. Something must be going on with the building’s electrics. The vending machine has an Out of Service sign taped to it. There’s only one place she could have gone from here: the door marked RESTRICTED ACCESS, where this floor’s electrical panels are.

The handle gives– unlocked. Not good. I push it slowlyopen, her name on my lips, ready to release a torrent of questions.

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