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Chapter Twenty-Four
Talia
The afternoon of the spa’s opening, Vivian showed up at my townhouse with Cris in tow. We went to Grand Marin to shop for outfits to wear that night. An endeavor made less stressful when one has a billionaire boyfriend. Though I suspect Archer would offer to foot my bill, I’d die before I let him. He’s done enough for me already, and since that tense evening at the spa’s pool, we haven’t exactly been on the same page.
Vivian has expensive taste, the stores we shopped at way outside my comfort zone. I tried pretending none were my style, but when I slipped into a black sheath with an open back and twin gold chains crossing the deep V, Vivian informed me she was buying it. Cris advised me not to argue with Viv because it never worked. I argued anyway, but quickly determined Cris was right. It wasn’t going to work.
Viv mentioned paying it forward, followed by, “If you knew about all of the clothes Nate bought me, you’d let me do it.”
Cris chimed in, “She’s truly spoiled. Let her do it.”
After, we ate dinner at a restaurant in Grand Marin. Martinis and pasta. Cris asked Vivian how the wedding planning was coming along, and I turned into the Tin Man, sitting rigidly in my seat while I ate. Instead of asking if I was planning on coming, Vivian reminded me the black dress was perfect for guest attire.
I’ve grown so close to Vivian and Cris in the short time I’ve been here, I honestly planned on flying back to attend. But I doubt Brandon will be as magnanimous about giving me time off to fly home for an Owen wedding. When I called him to tell him my father was mistaken about me wanting my job back, Brandon offered to hire me, but not as an employee of Lotus Leaf. He further explained that Ed crossed a line. Then he admitted he crossed one too, and apologized for acting like a jealous jerk. “Jerk” was putting it mildly, which I let him know. He told me there was no sense in turning down good money close to home. Then he asked if I missed Papa and Lis, and Miami.
I did. So, he had me there.
I talked to the site manager, Tom, yesterday about the design job. They want a spa built onto the back of an existing fitness center, and they need to pivot their focus from barbells and bulky guys to a softer, more welcoming environment. I mentioned introducing meditation, yoga, and the requisite massage, and Tom told me I could do whatever the hell I want, so long as he finished the job on time and earned his bonus.
Not the passion with which I run my business, or Archer runs his, but at least I have control over my part. My wheels haven’t stopped turning since.
Now, Vivian, Cris, and I are lingering at the bar of Archer’s unnamed night spa. Guests showed up—nearly everyone invited. They’re mingling, drinks in hand, as scratchy, upbeat, lo-fi music plays over the speakers.
“You are a million miles away,” Vivian tells me. She’s bathed in lavender light, lending her dark hair a purple sheen. Her black gown is shorter than mine, and sparkly. Cris wore red, which reminds me of the night I met her at the fundraiser. Red is her color.
“Sorry. I just want everything to go perfectly tonight.”
“You can breathe easy,” Viv says as another of Carmella’s underlings sweeps by to straighten a vase of flowers. The three assistants she sent are efficient and nearly invisible, but I’ve spotted them re-fluffing pillows whenever someone stands from the sofa, and collecting left-behind wheatgrass shot glasses or champagne flutes.
“When is the big reveal, anyway?” Cris asks. “I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell us the name of the spa. I understand the subterfuge with the public since he wants to lure in the fancies, but he could have told us.” I assume by “fancies,” she’s referring to the celebrities in attendance. A young actor and actress in the latest sci-fi film are here and, remarkably, half the cast of Hamilton. Archer never ceases to impress me.
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon. He can’t keep it a secret forever.” Viv and Cris attempted to shake details out of me at dinner, but I finally convinced them I have no idea what to expect either. I haven’t talked to Archer since he passed by, drawing his fingers along the bare skin of my back. I’ve spotted him behind the bar, in the lobby, and mingling with a few suited men I don’t recognize.
Since the awkward ride home from the spa after our argument, we haven’t talked about my leaving. And while we’ve shared kisses and spent time together, I’ve noticed the careful way Archer holds himself when he’s around me.
As if on cue, a loud whistle cuts through the air. The music quiets as every guest’s head turns toward the lobby, where Archer is standing in front of a large square something wrapped in Kraft brown paper and tied with jute twine.
“You are pioneers,” he announces. “Embarking on the first night spa in Clear Ridge, Ohio!” Applause paired with lots of smiles erupts in the room. “Thank you for being here for the grand opening. I couldn’t have done this without my incredible staff.” He rattles off names and points out people in the crowd. They are incredible; he’s not exaggerating. “Talia Richards, come up here.”
I shake my head, but Viv and Cris literally push me in his direction.
“Come on, Wildflower. This is your baby as much as it’s mine.”
Reluctantly, I step up next to him, awkwardly shy about being singled out. Odd, since that’s what I strived for when I worked at Lotus Leaf. I didn’t take this job for kudos, though. I did it because I was hungry for an adventure. I’m not disappointed. I’ve enjoyed every moment of it.
“Talia designed this spa, and I’ve begged her to stay and do another. She’s going to give me her answer tonight.”
My cheeks grow warm.
“And now, the reveal you’ve been waiting for.” He rubs his hands together. “I’m going to tell you the name of this place.”
More applause, mine included. I step back as he pulls a pocketknife from the pocket of his dark trousers and slices the twine. He turns to me and gestures to the large, wrapped sign. “Go ahead. Tear it open.”
Hands sweating, I fumble, ripping at the paper fruitlessly before making a hole big enough to poke my finger through. I tear it away, discarding the pieces and revealing thick letters made up of green and blue and yellow flowers. I see the word in its entirety, its meaning sinking it slowly. When I realize what it means, it’s like the air is suctioned from the room. I back away as Nate and Benji each lift a corner of the sign.
“Welcome to Wildflower Spa,” Archer calls out. The cheers are deafening, the music is loud again, and I…I stand stock-still staring at my nickname—Archer’s nickname for me—painted on the sign for his new night spa. He points at a blank wall and tells his brothers, “It goes on those nails right there.”
Nate and Benji hang the sign, all eyes on them. Including mine.
