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‘Right now, let’s just focus on getting through the day.’
And to that end, she was in need of a strong cup of black tea. Roman craved black coffee. She checked the time on his watch. She had ten minutes to spare and then she really had to get hustling. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘And I’ll hop in the shower, if that’s all right.’
‘Enjoy it,’ she said. ‘It’s like a spa in there.’
In the tiny kitchen, Samantha brewed a cup of tea for herself and coffee for Roman. He was still in the shower when she returned to the bedroom with the cups brimming with scorching hot caffeinated beverages. She set them carefully on the chest of drawers and knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Coffee is ready!’ she called to him. ‘I don’t drink the stuff, so it might be crap.’
‘Get in here!’ Roman called out.
She cracked open the bathroom door. He likely couldn’t hear her over the running water. ‘I said, your coffee is ready!’
He cracked open the shower door. Hot fragrant steam swirled out and fogged the bathroom mirror. ‘I said, get in here.’
‘No. Absolutely not.’
This was not the time for fun and games. She’d intended to use her travel steamer to smooth out her wrinkled dress while he was in the shower. She couldn’t show up looking rumpled. The wedding photographer would be standing by to snap candid photos of the event. None of that mattered when Roman said ‘please’.
He was wet from the shower. Water beaded on his strong shoulders and rolled down his arms. He stared at her through the veil of steam, his expression resolute. It did something to her. Freed her of free will. Samantha let out a sigh. She’d never do anything to intentionally bring on Naomi’s wrath, certainly not on her wedding day, of all days. But a girl had to shower.
‘Give me one second.’
She went to grab her dress from the wardrobe and hung it on a hook on the bathroom door. One way or the other, the wrinkles would come out.
Undressing, she said, ‘This is not what nice guys do.’
He cracked open the door a little wider to welcome her in. ‘You were right about me. I’m not a nice guy.’
An hour later, Samantha raced barefoot along the stone-paved walkway that snaked around the resort grounds, her sandals dangling from her hands. Her damp hair trickled streams of water down her back. She stopped twice for directions before landing on the event space almost by accident. Fifteen minutes late and severely out of breath, she burst through the French doors into the Palm Lounge. ‘I’m here! I made it!’
The set-up was lovely, all pink and gold. A table was set for five and a buffet had enough food for fifty. Brunch-appropriate music poured in from hidden speakers. Jasmine was alone at the table, snacking on a bowl of cut fruit. Jen was at the bar, uncorking a bottle of prosecco. Naomi and Maya were noticeably missing.
‘It’s OK, sweetie,’ Jen said. ‘We’re the only ones here.’
‘Come have a seat.’ Jasmine held out the chair next to hers. ‘What happened? Did you oversleep?’
Samantha nodded. Yes, she’d overslept, but then she’d fooled around in a shower, too. She’d keep that to herself.
‘Well, you look fantastic,’ Jen said. ‘Mimosa?’
‘Yes, please.’ Samantha hobbled over to the table, fell into the chair and slipped on her heels.
All three looked fantastic in the black midi-length dresses they’d been instructed to wear. Jasmine’s dress was actually a smart jumpsuit. Jen wore a simple knit column with capped sleeves. Samantha had chosen a linen slip dress with thin straps that was still slightly wrinkled. The bride was expected to wear white.
‘Where are the others?’ Samantha asked.
‘Anthony’s parents arrived an hour ago, so maybe that’s screwing up the timeline.’
So long as she wasn’t the one screwing the timeline, Samantha had no objection.
Jen handed out champagne flutes. ‘Cheers, ladies! It’s been a trip of a lifetime and I’m honoured to have met you.’
Jasmine clinked glasses with her. ‘The honour was all ours.’
‘This trip has been incredible,’ Jen said. ‘I’m leaving Tobago in a much better place than when I arrived. I’ll never forget it.’
Jasmine gazed down at her ring. ‘Neither will I.’
