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I paused, turning over her words. “Wait.” I fixed Xavier with a disbelieving stare. “When you said you booked the hotel, you booked thewholehotel?”
“I like supporting family businesses.” His dimples twinkled with mischief. “I also like privacy.”
The businesswoman in me said he shouldn’t be splashing money around like this when the fate of his inheritance hung in the air.
The romantic in me said to shut up and enjoy the experience. For the first time in my life, the romantic won.
The concierge gave us a quick tour of the hotel’s amenities before taking us outside, where dinner would be served.
“If you’d like to order more food, swimwear, or any other amenities, you can do so using these cards,” she said, handing us each a slim gold card. They had several white buttons embedded in them for various purposes, including housekeeping, dining, and general services. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The door closed behind her, I turned, and… My heart skipped an awed beat.Wow.
I’d stayed at many luxury hotels in my life. Most were pretty generic in the way all luxury hotels were, but this place wasbeautiful.
The turquoise lagoon pool featured a miniature waterfall at one end and a hot tub on the other. Lush foliage and custom rockscapes enhanced the tropical vibes, while a cushioned, candlelit cabana infused the scene with dreamy romanticism. Overhead, a glass dome protected the entire space from the elements, and the temperature was a perfect, balmy seventy-five degrees.
We weren’t in Manhattan; we were in the freaking Garden of Eden.
Xavier laced his fingers through mine and pulled me toward the cabana. When we got closer, I noticed the low wooden table was covered with food.
Correction: it was covered with afeast. Coconut puff sticks sat next to grilled and marinated chicken skewers; classic pad Thai noodles starred alongside pineapple fried rice served in an actual hollowed-out pineapple, and an array of soups and curries perfumed the air with lemongrass, ginger, cumin, and a dozen other mouthwatering spices.
My stomach rumbled again with eagerness.
“There’s no way we’ll finish all this,” I said, sinking onto one of the giant cushions that doubled as a seat.
“Probably not,” Xavier admitted. “I didn’t know what dishes you like best, so I ordered a bit of everything.” Another peek of his dimples. “None with walnuts though.”
Those butterflies in my stomach were getting out of hand; I needed pest control or something.
“I don’t think walnuts are usually featured in Thai cooking,” I said, trying to hide the swell in my chest.
“You never know. What do you have against those poor nuts anyway?”
“They look like brains. It creeps me out…Stop laughing.”
“I’m not laughing,” he managed through gusts of laughter. “I just didn’t expect that to be the reason.”
I attempted to hold on to my indignation—my reason for hating walnuts was perfectly valid, thank you very much—but Xavier’s amusement was too infectious, and a smile eventually cracked my frown.
Our rapport took on an easy rhythm as we ate our way through the feast. Talking to Xavier was like talking to one of my best friends. I didn’t have to scrounge for topics or worry he’d take something I said the wrong way. He understood me, and as our conversation wound from food, film, and music to travel, I relaxed to the point where I forgot about everything outside this moment.
“Thailand,” Xavier said when I asked about his favorite places he’d visited so far. “I went after college, fell in love, and stayed there for an entire summer. It was hot as hell, so I spent most of my time at the beach.” A hint of wistfulness flickered over his face. “My mom was a fan too. When I was young, she would tell me about her adventures abroad and how she always went back to Thailand. The culture, the nature, the food...” He nodded at the half-empty dishes in front of us. “She loved it all.”
I remained quiet lest I spook him into withdrawing. Xavier never talked about his mother, and I was fascinated by the glimpse into their relationship.
I knew they’d been close. They’d had to be, considering how devastated he’d been by her death, but I didn’t know the details—the little things that transformed Patricia Castillo from an amorphous piece of the past to a concrete memory.
“Maybe that was why I stayed so long,” Xavier said. “It made me feel closer to her.”
My chest tightened, mirroring the weight he bore. I’d had a few more years with my mother than he’d had with his, but I understood the desire to connect to someone who was no longer there. Their presence, no matter how brief, left an emptiness that could never be truly filled.
“My mother wrote me a letter when I was born.” Xavier’s mouth twisted in a wry smile when my gaze jerked up to his in shock. “I didn’t know about it until last month. My father told me about it during our…during our last conversation. He said he’d forgotten about it because my mom placed it in a safe. I don’t know if I believe him, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. He’s dead, and I have the letter.”
His shrug looked forced. He could pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. We both knew that.
