“We should get going. We don’t want to be late.” My tone is sharp enough to slice through the silence between us. She’s unaware, and I follow her out of the room, both of us heading to the center of the hallway towards the elevators.
As we wait for the lift, Marley’s words spin in my mind. I try to shake it off, reasoning that I’m just jumping to the worst possible conclusion. Marley wouldn't use me. She's not a predator hunting for a cover story. But that seed of doubt has already been planted.
The problem with being betrayed by someone who breaks your trust is that it's hard not to look at everyone else through the same cracked lens. I try my hardest not to see Marley for what Carina did to me. For what my own cousin did to me. Can I put it past her?
I know Marley. Or at least, I think I do. We’ve only known each other for five days. For some, that's a blink of an eye, but for me, it's been long enough for me to start counting her in plans I haven't even made yet.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. We step on, Marley deep in her thoughts and me deep in mine. Standing here now, I can’t help but wonder if I’m falling for another beautiful mistake.
41
beautifully trapped
MARLEY
Othello barely saysa word to me down the corridors, in the elevator, or as we follow the stone pathways leading to a hidden garden-like clearing behind the resort. I assume it’s because of my mood, so I welcome the silence.
I don’t know how I feel walking into yet another fanciful event with this lie painted on me like a scarlet letter. Every glance I get feels loaded. As if everyone can see the real me and not who I’ve been pretending to be.
I want to go back to the suite and wallow in my misery. But the only thing keeping me here is the possibility that Collette hasn't completely given up on me yet.
This is me being optimistic and looking on the “bright side.”
The outdoor rehearsal dinner looks every bit Hawaiian, with its towering palms and tropical flower arrangements. As we eat our meal served in hollowed-out pineapples, fire dancers perform on a wooden platform.
Everyone is in a great mood tonight. But it’s hard not to be, considering Jerome and Collette went all out planning this massive week of events.
Dozens of round tables litter the lawn, all angling toward the head table where Gavin and Carina sit enthroned with their bridal party.
I sit at a table nearby, wedged tightly between Patricia, who has been aggressively thrusting an iPad of grandkid photos into my personal space, and Rick, who hasn't stopped talking about deep-sea fishing since appetizers.
This is the first time I've felt truly alone since I've been here. Isolated. The music and laughter swell all around me, but it feels miles away.
Collette hasn’t looked at me once since I sat down. And I can’t stop myself from stealing glances across the way at Othello. Whenever our eyes do manage to meet, he gives me a lingering look paired with a faint, half-smile. It’s a far cry from his usual genuine grin or the playful wink that always used to make my insides flutter.
He’s in a mood. I can see this. It’s so visibly etched across his handsome face.
Is it my mood making him this way? Or is it something else?
I should probably talk to him. Let him know that what I’m feeling has nothing to do with him. I don’t even understand how he doesn’t understand why I’d be spiraling right now. As ifModhadn’t already been set back with our numbers or lack thereof, now we’d have to truly scramble for a cover release story. I’m not trying to be dramatic, but too much is riding on this for me to just not care.
“Did I show you Ava’s recital?” Patricia asks, her frail finger shaking as she presses the screen for the infamous photo gallery again. Before I even have a chance to look, I take my cloth napkin from my lap and dab the corners of my mouth.
“You know, I’m not feeling too well. I’ll be right back,” I tell her kindly and rise from the table.I don’t wait for Patricia’s response. I just turn and walk away, my heels sinking slightly into the pristine, manicured grass. I don’t know where I’m going, but I just know I need to get away from here. From the celebratory vibes I’m not feeling, Collette’s cold shoulder, and Othello’s distant eyes.
Looking on the bright side is out the window.
I finally make it back inside the resort, walking down the corridors, with my heels clicking across the marble floors. It’s not long before I hear another set of footsteps echo behind me.
“Marley, wait,” Othello’s voice calls out.
I don’t know if it’s the fact that he followed me or how overwhelmed I am by everything that’s happened this week that makes tears prick the back of my eyes. They don’t fall. They sit there, burning hot with embarrassment.
“Marley,” he calls out again, and this time I freeze, turning slowly to see the concern in his eyes, and this time my tears do fall. Othello closes the distance between us, his eyes searching mine.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” I say, startling myself with the revelation. The decision comes with an unexpected sense of relief. There is nothing else for me to do here. I'll catch an early flight back to Savannah and figure out what comes next once I'm back in the comfort of my own home.
