Page 69 of Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts

I stopped a passing food runner, her arms laden with used dinner plates. “Did you happen to see a phone lying around here?”

“I don’t remember seeing one,” she said with a shrug. “But you could check tomorrow with the lost and found, after we’re finished cleaning up. There’s a chance it’ll turn up there.”

As soon as she turned her back, I stooped down to rifle through my bag, but my search only turned up a hairbrush, my wallet, and a six-month-old pack of Wrigley’s Spearmint. I straightened up and braced myself against the table, watching the bubbles rise in the champagne flute as I racked my brain for what I could have done with my phone. I knew I hadn’t carried it down to the beach with me, but I was certain I’d brought it tonight, because I remembered checking the time earlier while we were still waiting for dinner.

Declan was hovering at my shoulder. “Did someone take it?”

“Why would they take it?” I asked. “It’s worthless. It’s like three years outdated with a crack right down the middle of the screen.”

“I’m not talking about the resale value,” he said with a grave look.

I swallowed. There was plenty on my phone that was better left there—conversations with Jo, old screenshots of people’s Tinder profiles that I was roasting, Google searches that would probably look weird out of context. But nothing worth stealing. Nothing that was going to make or break me. “They’d have to have my passcode. And there’s nothing on there of interest.” But even as I was saying it, uncertainty welled in my gut. My social media profiles. I’d heard from other influencers about hackers holding their accounts hostage. But this wasn’t a hacker, and I wasn’t some major celebrity. I didn’t have enough money to be worth the time or the effort. They’d have better luck just hocking the crappy phone.

“I’ll ask around,” Declan said. “Find Lucas or Autumn. See if anyone saw anything.”

I nodded, coming to the only conclusion that made sense. Someone had pocketed my phone once before this vacation, under the guise of helping me. The same person I’d been talking to before Declan dragged me away from the table. Had I really been that gullible? I’d spent years expecting the worst of people, but there was still a small part of me that hoped they’d prove me wrong. I should have known better.

Trying to shake the embarrassment stinging my cheeks, I said, “I’m going to talk to Renee.”

CHAPTER24

Renee was running through tomorrow’s drink list with a couple of the bartenders, but Shelley was not among them. “Go,” Renee greeted with a surface-level smile as I approached. “Enjoying your evening?”

I took a deep breath. I’d never liked having these conversations—the sort where people tiptoed around what they actually wanted to say, all in the name of professionalism. It hadn’t been my intention to pawn the business side of things off on Jo, but it came so naturally to her. Reading the emails, reviewing the contracts. “I prefer being called Margo,” I said to start with. “And no, actually. I’m not.”

Renee must have realized that I hadn’t come over here to catch up, because she dismissed the bartenders with a quick nod. They busied themselves on the opposite side of the wraparound bar, uncorking bottles of champagne and pouring drinks for guests. “What can I do to change that?”

“I think one of your employees might have taken my phone.”

Renee’s smile turned strained. “That’s not possible. Castaway Catalina holds their employees to the highest standard. We conduct annual background—”

“Regardless of whatever precautions you’ve taken, my phone is missing,” I interrupted.

Renee nodded at the restaurant behind me. “Perhaps one of the guests took it.”

I faltered, turning to look at the crowd mingling between the tables. Friends, some of them. I recognized Jo’s parents. But mostly strangers. As far as I knew, Jo and Peter came from good families filled with honest people, but everyone was related to someone. It was just as likely that my phone got picked up by a cousin with sticky fingers as it was that a server slipped it in her apron.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking through my options. Shelley was nowhere to be seen, and I didn’t have any proof that she was the culprit aside from a couple awkward exchanges and a gut feeling. It was all circumstantial, at best, and at worst, I might cost someone their job with a baseless accusation. “We keep a lost and found at our main office,” Renee said. “I’ll check first thing tomorrow.”

I tore my eyes from the party. “I’d like it if you could check now, please.” Maybe I’d get lucky and someone had grabbed it for safekeeping.

“The main office is closed for the evening. Even if one of our employees did find it, they’d have to wait until tomorrow to turn it in.”

“Shit.” I ran a hand through my hair. My one saving grace was that my phone was locked when I left it on the table. There were probably a few tricks for getting past that, but with any luck, whoever took my phone wouldn’t know them. More important, there was a chance the phone thief wouldn’t know whose phone they’d stolen. They probably snatched it off the table without paying any attention to who was sitting there, and now they’d wipe it and sell it for a quick buck without ever realizing what they had.

“I’ll see about compensating you for the phone,” Renee said. “The last thing we’d want is for your vacation to end on a sour note.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, though the money wasn’t really my concern.

I broke away and searched for Declan to see whether he’d had any better luck with the wedding party. I found him standing near our table, looking like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. “Liv said she saw your phone on the table when she was getting up to go talk to Peter’s cousin who owns a dispensary, but she hasn’t been back over here since. And by all accounts, Lucas has been stuck in the bathroom since before the slideshow even started. Says the ceviche messed with his stomach. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Autumn.”

I exhaled through my nose, trying to calm down, but it was difficult when my life was quite literally in someone else’s hands. “Autumn wouldn’t take my phone.”

“She might’ve seen something,” he pointed out.

I marched over to where Jo was laughing at something her dad said, the back of her ivory cape dress to me. I tapped her on the shoulder. “Jo.” She turned, a flute of champagne in her hand and her face still fixed in a smile, but it faltered when she caught my expression. “Where’s Autumn?”

Her brow creased. “Why? What’s wrong?”