Page 29 of Paradise in Progress
Tristan scoffs. “Heaven forbid, you have to share your space.”
Squinting my eyes, I level him with a glare.
“Of course not, Miss Reed—”
“Kennedy,” I interrupt.
“Right, Kennedy.” Her smile is tighter and not as warm as it was before. I imagine she’s starting to feel awkward, ready to be separated from the animosity constantly swirling between me andhim.She points past the kitchen to a small hallway, where a smaller version of the living room console table sits. A decorative piece sits below another round mirror. “Your room is on this level to the right, and directlyacross from your room is the primary suite with unobstructed views of the ocean.”
Okay, this is going to be fine, Kennedy. It’s not like this is a vacation and we’ll be lounging around in the common space. When I’m not working, I can hang out in my bedroom. And during working hours, I’ll be busy anyway. It’ll be like we aren’t in the same space at all.
“If there isn’t anything else you two need,” she pauses, glancing down at her watch, “I’m going to call it a day and head home. Tomorrow is typically my day off along with the construction crew, but if you need anything at all, you both should have my contact number. I only live a few miles away.”
“Thank you, Destiny. Please enjoy your day off.”
“Thank you for all of your help,” I say.
She nods. “My pleasure. There will be members of the hospitality team floating around. Please don’t be afraid to ask for anything. Most of the restaurants will have kitchen staff practicing new recipes. I’ve also passed along their schedules in your email. While the resort is still closed to the public, there are still a lot of people milling around.”
And with that, Destiny closes the door on the elevator car, leaving Tristan and I alone. Suddenly, the oversized presidential suite feels like the size of a bargain motel room.
“Does it feel surreal?”
His question causes my head to whip in his direction from where I was staring out the window. I still cannot believe the ocean is right in front of me. For years, growing up, I was jealous of all the kids who got to go on lavish vacations to the beach while I was stuck in our small town helping my grandparents’ farm and burying my nose in book after book, studying as often as I could. “Does what feel surreal?”
“Seeing your design come to life. You did this.” His voice sounds almost, dare I say,proud. Maybe a little envious. Ha, that’ll be the day when Tristan is envious ofme.
It doesn’t stop the grin from breaking free as my chest warms. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”
“Ouch!” I scream, rubbing the skin on the back of my arm. “Did you just pinch me?”
He chuckles. “You said you felt like you were dreaming, so I thought I’d show you that you aren’t.”
Groaning, I shake my head as I turn and walk toward my bedroom. What an asshole. This might be the longest month of my life, but I’m determined to make this work. These are my designs and I’m proud of the hard work I’ve accomplished. If everything goes well, this might be my chance to be featured in a magazine showcasing the luxurious remodel of a long-forgotten resort.
Rounding the corner to enter the hallway, my feet halt as my eyes widen. Oh my gosh. If I thought the main space was gorgeous, it has nothing on this bedroom, which is the guest room in this space.
My eyes immediately go past the silver metal framed four-poster bed to the glass windows with gray shutters. The far two walls are completely covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, which slide open to the same balcony off the main space. Palm trees float in the breeze while the turquoise waters below call to me. I can see myself sorting through emails on the lounge chairs and daybeds situated outside to provide endless views of paradise.
Soft white linens tempt me to collapse on the king-sized bed. And as heavenly as that sounds, I’m desperate for a shower. Reaching for my suitcase placed on the cream upholstered bench at the foot of the bed, Imentally thank the staff for bringing it to my room for me. Unzipping the case, I pull out everything I need for a shower, including skincare and a swimsuit. I’m in need of some vitamin D.
But as I rifle through my packing cubes, I can’t find any of the swimsuits I packed.
I pull out my phone and find Lana’s name.
Me: Lana Elizabeth where are my swimsuits?!
Continuing my perusal, I unpack some of the cubes into the dresser drawers while I wait for my friend to message me back. The little devil switched all my swimsuits with teeny-tiny bikinis.
When I step into the bathroom, my jaw hits the pristine marble floors. A mirror takes over the entire first wall that greets you, with two matching his and hers sinks. Windows with unobscured views take up the other two exterior walls. A large soaking tub sits below one wall of windows, while a glass shower rests opposite the tub. Between the bathtub and shower is another door that leads to the outdoor shower.
This is what bathroom dreams are made of.
Stripping out of my travel clothes, my phone chimes.
Lana: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Me: Liar.
