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“You’ll love it here.”
I could snort right now, but the nice man wouldn’t understand.
Of course in any normal circumstances I’d love Costa Rica. Anyone would. But fulfilling a family obligation and pretending you’re still lovey-dovey with the ex who broke your heart is a different deal.
I draw in a breath. I take in the scenery as the limo drives through busy streets, then the highway, and a curvy way up a mountain. Stunning views from the beaches and lush, vivid green from the trees greet me the higher we get. Also, the closer we get to the villa, the more uneasy I become.
My blood is in a low, steady simmer. Sweat slicks my forehead and I have clammy palms, even though the AC is turned on. I’m sure it’s comfortable in the car… if I weren’t on my way to meet Beck Roderick.
Beck.
A flutter crosses my tummy.
It’s impossible to think of him and notfeelanything. I fix my square sunglasses, and the beautiful scenery out the window gets blurry for a moment, even though it’s a clear sunny day.
Is it wrong to hope he looks less hot? Maybe he stopped his insane workout routine and took on day drinking? Maybe his nice full head of hair is gone?
Okay, I last saw him months ago and he’s forty-four and not seventy-eight. So, no chances.
Still…
“We’re here,” Mario announces.
Moisture evaporates from my throat. The driver opens the door to me and I slide out of the seat, stomping my high heels on the stoned ground, willing myself to exude the calm confidence I’m far from feeling right now.
White stucco walls, tiled roofs, and intricate archways make me feel like I'm in an entirely different world. Though I know even though the location may be different, but the world isn’t. Not my and Beck’s mess of a marriage.
This, I remind myself, is the last family gathering I’ll attend. After this weekend, I’ll serve him the divorce papers stacked in my luggage. I can only truly move on when there’s closure—and there won’t be any if I know we’re still legally bound.
I try to tell myself our relationship was a mistake. We met through mutual friends, had a whirlwind romance of two months, I got pregnant, we got married in Vegas. I lost the baby soon after, and he pulled away, showing me he’d only married me because of the pregnancy. A pang of pain stabs at my heart.
Me, fool that I was… believed he loved me.
“You’re here!” Jessie says, opening the door, and she pulls me into a hug.
Thankfully his sister has no problem showing her emotions, and I appreciate her for it. I hug her back, excited. Having three brothers and being the only girl, I’ve always wanted a sister. Jessie reached out to me a few times after I moved out of Beck’s home, but I didn’t want to further our friendship and take the risk of having reminders of Beck’s existence. I guess I was a coward too.
“It’s been way too long,” Jessie says. “Everyone is on the terrace having drinks. Mario will take your luggage to your room. Come join us.”
“S-sure,” I say, in a sad attempt to add energy to my voice.
Might as well get this out of the way, right? What other option do I have? Go freshen up in my room while my anxiety levels skyrocket?
I clutch my purse. I picked an all-white pants and blouse ensemble, with a long coral necklace to pair with it. I always favor solid colors in clothes to make my jewelry creations pop. But now I wonder if I shouldn’t have gone with a different outfit. Not that any of it will make a difference.
I catch myself biting my lower lip, then stop.
Now is not the time to show weakness. We’re supposed to be this happily married couple, for Mimi’s sake. At least, this weekend.
I walk over to a group of people sitting on the oversize chairs of high-end outdoor furniture on the terrace. I take in the stunning scenery around me – lush green foliage, bright flowers, and an infinity pool that overlooks a cliffside view of the ocean.
I recognize his family members, and first beeline to say hello to Mimi. I’ve sent her flowers and visited her in the hospital once. I’ve wanted to do more, but I didn’t know how to act when she thought Beck and I were blissfully happy but the truth was a different story. One I was not allowed to share—and rightfully so. I’d never give her more worries when she was sick. Thankfully, she’s good now.
“Eliza! I’m so glad you made it,” Mimi says.
A nice warm glow travels through me, and I take a look at her. She’s wearing a golden kaftan, along with a light brown pair of slick pants, and I recognize her earrings. I gave them to her. A measure of nostalgia comes down on me. Damn it. I miss his family. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mimi,” I say. She insisted I call her Mimi from the very beginning, and she’s not someone people say no to. “What a lovely place.”
For the next few minutes, Aunt Lillian and Uncle John and a few others catch up, and a waiter pours us delicious tropical drinks. It’s safe to say that they rented a home with five-star service.
