“But did she say that?”
No.
“Collette saw something inyou.Yes, I know you lied about being in a relationship, but I’m sure if you approach Collette and just tell her the truth, she will at least respect you for owning your mistake.”
Lo starts slathering on her facial cream, rubbing the moisturizer into her flawless brown skin.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you have to lose?”
I look at her deadpan. “My entire cover story. That’s what we have to lose. This isn’t something we can replace overnight.”
Lo shrugs and nods.
“True. But, whatever the outcome, we will be fine.”
“I can’t believe I let this happen,” I groan into my hands.
“Will you see her tonight?”
She switched off the light at her vanity, slipped out of her robe, and climbed into bed in a soft Victoria's Secret pajama set. The six-hour time difference suddenly becomes apparent. While her day is ending, mine is somehow still going strong.
Or wrong.
“I’ll see her at the rehearsal dinner tonight,” I tell her. “But I’m not even sure I should go.”
“No, you have to go. Go to dinner and tell her the truth. Apologize and let her know you didn’t mean it.”
I’m taking Lo’s words into consideration when a text comes through, the brief vibration jolting me with anticipation. I assume it’s Collette, but it’s Othello.
Seeing his name softens me a bit.
We’d finally exchanged phone numbers, and he’d somehow made a habit of sending me cute little messages at random ever since.
OTHELLO: Where are you? You good?
MARLEY: I’m good. Out on the beach talking to Lo.
“I should go,” I tell my friend. “Othello’s looking for me. Please, don’t tell anyone about this yet. I want to talk to Collette first.”
“Noted. And Marley, don’t worry until she actually tells you, “You’re fired.”
Despite the look of sadness on my face, Lo giggles and tells me goodnight before hanging up. I stare off into the sea, the waves doing little to nothing to put me at ease.
40
for nothing
OTHELLO
I’ve noticedMarley moving like a straggler since she trudged back into the suite. Very few words and barely making conversation. I’ve asked her twice if she’s okay, and both times the answer is,“I’m fine.”
I am already dressed in a pair of khaki linen pants and a matching buttoned top. I leave a few undone, waiting for Marley to finish getting ready so we can head to the rehearsal dinner. I sit on the balcony, aimlessly scrolling through my phone while keeping an eye on Marley through the open doorway. She’s in the bathroom, moving slower than usual, and my mind is consumed with trying to figure out what could have happened.
She pulls a simple, very classy baby-blue dress over her hips and struggles with the zipper in the back. I set my phone down and head over to help her.
“I’m right here. Why didn’t you just ask?” I say as I zip her dress the rest of the way up. My fingers briefly graze the back of her neck, and if she wasn’t in such a ticked-off mood, I would kiss her there.
