But looking out at the mangroves swaying in inky waters, she was reminded how much of this state was covered in wetlands. She thought her sister would have booked a swanky beachside resort in Las Olas. Instead, the car continued westward, deeper into the marshy dark.
Eventually, the swamp gave way to a manicured lawn. Ahead, a sign appeared: Vista Del Sol. The hotel loomed in the distance, bone white against the night sky. Spires rose from each corner like watchtowers. Grand arches framed the gilded entryway. More like a castle than a hotel, it glittered beneath the moon.
The SUV rumbled over a drawbridge, then pulled up to the entrance. A dark-haired bellhop in a festive red uniform promptly emerged to gather her things. Hena moved to tip him, but he shook his head, refusing to accept it. Curious.
Stepping inside, Hena felt like she’d wandered into a Moroccan palace. Pendant lights glowed overhead, their tricolor panes casting shadows across the marble floors and jewel-toned couches. Two swans drifted in an indoor lagoon by the glass elevators. Through the transparent back wall, she glimpsed a turquoise infinity pool framed by palms.
The resort was quiet. Almost too quiet. Looking around, Hena realized she was the only guest in the lobby aside from a man in a gray suit by the front desk, a garment bag draped over his arm.
“You should be all set, Mr. Davies,” the receptionist told the man as Hena approached. She stole a glance—correction: the veryhandsomeman.
The woman handed him a gift bag as his phone buzzed. He stepped aside to check it, and she turned her attention to Hena. She wore a smart red dress, and her chestnut-colored hair was swept back into a neat bun. When Hena gave her name, the woman’s eyebrows shot up.
“Ms. Mirza. I’m so sorry, I should have known,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you.”
She pulled out a cream-colored envelope from the shelf behind her and handed it to Hena.
“Your key is inside. Wi-Fi info too. I suggest connecting ASAP, as cell service can be spotty. And be sure to download the wedding app for the digital keycard. You’ll be staying in one of our VIP suites over at the deluxe tower. Fourth floor. It has a private elevator. The keycards will open both.”
“Lucky.” The man next to her let out a low whistle as he stuck his phone back in his pocket. “I’m staying at the other tower with the plebes.”
He smiled, and Hena felt butterflies, which couldn’t be helped. With his broad shoulders, olive skin, and dark hair, he was, simply put, gorgeous. And he had about five inches on her, which meant he was at least six feet tall.
“Here for the wedding?” she asked him.
He nodded. “I’m Reza, one of the groomsmen. And I’m running late.”
“Hena. Sister of the bride. Don’t worry, desi standard time is taken very seriously in these parts. We’re only a touch behind.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He put out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She shook it, ignoring the jolt that went through her.
“Ms. Mirza, before you go…” The woman at the counter scrawled something on a notepad and handed it to her. “I’m Lucinda. This is my personal number. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
Reza raised an eyebrow, and Hena pushed back a laugh. Being the bride’s sister appeared to have its perks.
“Do you know where tonight’s welcome dinner is?” Hena asked Lucinda. “I forgot to ask for the address.”
“Tonight’s event is in the Parakeet dining hall, just around the corner.” She slid a gift bag across the desk. “This will have all the pertinent information you’ll need.”
Hena peeked inside. There was Voss water. Snacks. La Mer lip balm. Apple AirPods. And a hefty binder embroidered with Lulu and Khaled’s names. The first page featured a welcome note from the happy couple. Hena flipped to the next page. And the next.
Friday, January 9.Welcome Party
Saturday, January 10.Bridal Shower
Sunday, January 11.Dholki
Monday, January 12.Mayoun
Tuesday, January 13.Mehndi
Wednesday, January 14.Nikkah
Thursday, January 15.Shaadi
Friday, January 16.Walima
