“Just run!” Carina yells over her shoulder, never breaking her stride.
We race after her into the vineyard, weaving between towering rows of grapevines while laughter echoes through the warm Maui night. The drone and the helicopter seemed farther away now, swallowed by the darkness.
“My Prada shoes!” Jaylah whines, but she doesn’t stop running. We run and run, laughing and wheezing, the ground sloping beneath our feet. The breeze tickling our skin.
I feel weightless. Disconnected. My dress billows behind me like a sail. Up ahead stands an enormous moneypod tree, its sprawling branches stretching out like open arms. Carina reaches the tree first, collapsing beneath it, her chest heaving, her cheeks rosy, her smile never fades.
One by one, the rest of us join her, dropping onto the grass and leaning against the thick trunk. We struggle to catch our breath while fighting the urge to stop laughing. We are blissfully hysterical.
Above us, the helicopter is gone. The drone is gone. It’s clear why we were running and who we were running from.
Paparazzi.
The world has caught wind of this wedding. The cameras are desperate for the inside scoop, or a glimpse behind the scenes. Something to report. To be the first to tell the world what they know.
“I should have brought that bottle of prosecco,” Carina pouts.
“I’m ten steps ahead of you, boo,” Danielle says, pulling a bottle from the pocket of her full-skirted dress. A chorus of giddy shrieks erupt around the tree.
“What?” Carina shrieks.
“How did you fit that bottle in your pocket?” I ask.
“And this is why dresses with pockets are always ago,” says Camila.
We pass the pineapple prosecco around, giving each other waterfalls and laughing about our sweet escape.
37
fight it
MARLEY
I wakeup the next morning tucked against Othello’s chest. I lie here in a state of bliss, the sound of his steady breathing in my ear and the Maui sights out the floor-to-ceiling windows. A feeling I wish I could bottle up and keep forever.
Last night was just as nostalgic. A release-and-bonding moment that made me feel lighter knowing Carina more personally and seeing the woman behind the public persona. We walked away seeing each other differently than before.
We have only 72 hours left here in Maui, and I plan to take full advantage of simply being here and taking nothing to heart. Especially the date Othello has been promising me since before we landed. Today is finally the day. I’ve tried guessing what we’re going to do and where we’re going to go, but he won’t tell me anything.
I hear him groan, rising from his sleep.
“Good morning,” he murmurs and kisses the back of my neck.
“Good morning.”
“How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to watch the sunrise. I’m going to hate leaving here.”
“Same.”
Othello spoons me closer to him as we watch the tide come and go.
“What are you going to miss the most about Maui?” he asks.
“Waking up to this view,” I tell him.
“Really? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to miss?”
