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I’ve done my best to not think about his announcement at all and the resort is so secluded, safety hasn’t been a concern. I step off the boardwalk and onto the beach, turn in a little circle to take in the sharp contrast of the golden sand and blue water, a line of palm trees behind the sand.
A shadow shifts behind one of them and I do a double-take. But it’s just a bird rustling, then flying away. My feet take me to the water’s edge and I twist my hair in one hand to keep it from floating across my face in the breeze.
Right, my love life.
My last significant relationship feels like ages ago, a big, splashy to-do while I was still in college. On a family trip to Europe, I happened to meet a hot, up-and-coming Formula 1 driver and fell madly in lust with him. We were obsessed with each other and the media was obsessed with us. I traveled to all his races, and he won the world championship two years in a row, the two years we were together.
Our fiery interest eventually waned and we broke up, a mutual decision. But then, coincidentally or not, he never won again. My name and the word “curse” made a lot of headlines and fans were livid, the paparazzi incessant. I had a bodyguard for that season, but it was some older guy that was nowhere near as interesting or attractive as Everett.
I had a very quick rebound with an actor who shot to popularity after playing the male lead in a popular Nicholas Sparks movie. I realized too late he really only needed a girlfriend for awards season. He dumped me as soon as the last after-party was over.
Up until that point, I was young and a sucker for a whirlwind romance. But after that burn, I resolved to wait around for something serious, true love with a soulmate. When my parents died, my life filled so quickly with urgent, immediate needs, all my own dreams got sucked away, including love. It was like falling into a black hole, the black hole of The Milenna Company.
Love is a word that is not in my vocabulary these days.
When day four dawns, I groan and huff and roll my eyes thinking about the assignment. I can’t put it off much longer. After breakfast, I drag myself to my near-empty suitcase, pull out the journal I packed, take a pen from the desk, and sit on a chaise lounge overlooking the lagoon. With one last eye twitch of reluctance, I write.
“I always wanted to be a CEO of my own company. I was ready to rise to the challenge of being just like Dad, albeit on a smaller scale. Henry Milenna, revered, universally acknowledged as a titan of the industry, magnetic and smart. I followed the golden path that would ensure I could do the same thing with my own brand, under the Milenna umbrella. I pushed myself to finish college in three years, tacked on a rigorous MBA in twelve months, started to formulate my goals and products for my own cosmetics line. But then the plane crashed. When we reviewed the legal documents afterwards, we discovered Dad had preserved the CEO role at The Milenna Company for me.”
I set the pen and journal down on the deck and drop my head in my hands with a groan. I may be number one on the “30 under 30” lists and my name crops up on round-ups like “North America’s Most Famous CEOs,” but deep down I’m just a kid that wants to make her parents proud, to do well with what they’ve left me, their last request.
“Is this how it’s going to be forever? Or does there come a point where my own dreams are going to matter again? I can’t live in their shadow forever.”
Mom was the queen of New York society. She ran the amazing Irene Milenna Opera Foundation, and hosted tons of charity functions, all while maintaining her genuine love for others. She was never fake about helping people. She was devoted to and hopelessly in love with Dad. And because she was the same person inside the doors of our historic brownstone as she was out in the echelons of the rich and famous, I trusted her, emulated her, and wanted nothing more than to be as graceful of a woman as she was.
But I mostly wanted my life to look like Dad’s. A powerful business magnate, brave, willing to do gutsy things that always pay off. Since filling his shoes, I’ve made some big moves, the biggest being my Beauty Done Well Initiative, but even that was fraught with insecurity on my part.
I wish I could have something for myself, a role that I can have full confidence in, that can accommodate me having a life and balance outside of work. Dad seemed to have that, why is it so elusive for me?
I unearth a deeper question, the one that keeps me up at night. “If Dad walked into The Milenna Company today, would he be proud of me?”
* * *
The bar in the main building of the hotel is an open-air arrangement of wicker furniture and giant palm fans overhead, wafting sea air throughout the veranda. I find a seat in the shade and order a Mai Tai. Other than the ambient music, there’s a natural silence on the island that is supposed to be soothing, but I’m struggling to adjust to it after living my entire life in the noise of the city.
Without a screen in front of me, I’m free to admire the way the sunset colors of my drink meld together in the tall glass, but it quickly gives way to worry about our stock graphs. There’s no hum of conversation, no buzz of phones, nothing to remind me of Milenna. I miss Ainsley’s chatter and Everett’s eyes and Mr. Delancey’s questions. I miss their constancy, our inside jokes, knowing I’m going to see them every day and we’ll pick up with the same sentence we left off on.
A bachelorette party settles in a few couches over from me, a bunch of bubbly girls, cheering and toasting over and over again. I almost look to the side to exchange an eye roll with Everett. But I stop just before I embarrass myself. He’s not here and I can’t hear his occasional, casual laugh for a few more days.
And then only a couple more weeks until I lose it forever.
It’s not like he’s going to keep in touch with me. I have to be honest with myself. Ainsley jokes that we’re work husband and wife, which always gives me a little thrill, but once that work is over, we’re just two people who probably would never naturally cross paths.
The girls next to me explode with laughter and I have to admit, as loud as they are, they look like they’re having fun. The one in a white sundress and a tiara must be the bride. I don’t know if this kind of bachelorette fling is what I would want, but I do envy her happiness, the jokes about her groom to be, the blush on her cheeks.
Well, if that’s what I want, I should start dating again. There’s a part of me that would love nothing more than to have a partner, a spouse, another person to help balance me out. But the word “dating” screams of wasted time, stilted conversations, incompatibility smacking me in the face over and over.
If only there was a handsome, caring man already in my life that I may or may not already have a massive crush on and may or may not have had a steamy dream about kissing in a crowded bar.
No, no, I can’t go down that road. Everett is my friend who has never been anything but professional and caring towards me. He’s never given me the slightest hint of interest.
We make pointed efforts to stay far away from anything that would give any mixed signals. Because of how relatively close in age we are, how attractive Everett is, and how buzzy my name can be, there are always rumors circling and attempts to make us more than we are.
The worst was the first time the media really saw us together, the day of my parents’ memorial service. Everett had put his hand on my back at some point as we came down the cathedral stairs and the cameras went wild. The picture was all over the tabloids and of course I looked sick and distraught and he looked cool yet comforting.
After that I learned how much of a spin they could really put on the two of us. It still comes up from time to time, but we both make an effort to make it a non-issue.
Even outside of the public eye, Everett and I have never crossed any lines. I wish I could tell him how I feel, especially now that he’s leaving, but I would be risking way too much if I let myself test the waters only to be politely rebuffed. That would officially be the death of “us,” and our friendship is too important. I wouldn’t want to ruin it right at the end and tarnish our entire history together.
