Page 2 of Love, Take Two
I start filming, capturing the view, the details, the way afternoon light streams across the polished floors. This is content gold, and my followers will eat it up.
"Guys, this is unbelievable," I say to my camera, walking toward the windows. "Look at this view. I'm four floors above paradise,and I can see forever." I pan across the ocean, then back to showcase the room. "Paradise Cove Resort has exceeded every expectation."
My luggage arrives as I'm exploring the massive bathroom—marble everything, a soaking tub that faces the ocean, and a shower that could comfortably fit four people. The staff member who delivers my bags points out additional amenities: a private balcony with outdoor seating, a wet bar stocked with premium spirits, and French doors that lead to what must be the shared terrace Ezalea mentioned.
After he leaves, I step out onto the balcony and have to catch my breath. The view from ground level was incredible, but from up here, it's like looking at a postcard that someone enhanced beyond reality. The sun is starting to sink lower, painting everything in shades of gold and orange that no filter could improve.
I'm setting up for golden hour shots when I hear voices from the adjacent terrace. A woman's laugh carries clearly through the tropical air—warm, genuine, and somehow familiar in a way that makes my chest tighten with recognition I can't quite place.
"This is ridiculous," the voice says, and something about the tone, the cadence, tugs at memories I can't immediately access. "Maya, I'm living in a postcard right now. Everything here is perfect."
I move closer to the dividing screen between our terraces, trying to place why that voice sounds so familiar, but whoever she is moves back inside before I can catch a glimpse.
Shaking off the strange sense of déjà vu, I focus on creating content. The next hour flies by as I capture the sunset, the roomdetails, and my excited commentary about the week ahead. By the time I'm satisfied with my footage, the sun has disappeared into the ocean, and the resort has transformed into something even more magical—soft lighting illuminates every pathway, torches flicker along the beaches, and the sound of live music drifts up from what must be the welcome cocktail party.
I check the itinerary Ezalea gave me. Tonight's event is casual cocktails on the Sunset Terrace, followed by dinner and dancing. Tomorrow brings couples' yoga at sunrise, a wine tasting lunch, and group beach volleyball. The entire week is packed with activities designed for maximum social media potential and group bonding.
Looking at my phone, I realize I should probably make an appearance downstairs soon. I've been putting off the inevitable awkwardness of seeing Erika as a bride-to-be, but hiding in my suite isn't going to make this week any easier.
I change into linen pants and a button-down shirt that Carlos assured me was "effortlessly elegant," run some product through my curls, and give myself a pep talk in the mirror.
"You've got this," I tell my reflection. "Erika's happy, you're happy for her, and you're going to create incredible content this week. Plus, free drinks and a tropical paradise. What could possibly go wrong?"
Famous last words, but I'm feeling optimistic as I head for the elevator. I've traveled to dozens of countries, created content in challenging conditions, and built a successful career from nothing but wanderlust and determination. Surely I can handle one week celebrating my ex-girlfriend's wedding to someone else.
The elevator doors close, and I check my appearance one more time in the mirrored walls. Game face on, charming smile ready.
Time to find out if I'm as over Erika as I think I am.
2
VADA
Six months ago, if someone told me I'd fly to a Caribbean paradise to celebrate my ex-boyfriend's wedding, I'd have suggested therapy. Yet here I am, bouncing in my seat as our seaplane descends toward what looks like heaven dropped into the ocean.
"This is unreal," I murmur to my phone camera, angling it to catch the crystal-clear water below. "Guys, I'm flying into paradise for what's going to be the most incredible week of celebrations." I flip the camera to show my face, unable to contain my excitement. "I know some of you have been asking about attending my ex's wedding, and honestly? Sometimes the best relationships are the friendships that come after."
The seaplane touches down with barely a splash, and I'm already mentally cataloging everything I want to capture for my followers. This is exactly the kind of authentic content that's been resonating with my audience—real life celebrations, genuine emotions, and the beauty of supporting people you care about even when romantic relationships don't work out.
Paradise Cove Resort emerges from the tropical landscape like something from a dream. I've planned events at luxury venues, but this place operates on another level entirely. Every detail has been curated for maximum impact, from the hand-carved wooden docks to the staff members waiting with flower leis and welcome drinks.
"Ms. King!" A gorgeous woman with a professional smile approaches as I climb out of the seaplane. "Welcome to Paradise Cove. I'm Ezalea, and we're absolutely delighted to have you here for the Laurent-Williams celebration."
I accept the offered drink and follow her toward the main resort. "Thank you so much. This place is even more stunning than the photos."
Erika's been sharing sneak peeks of this venue for months. Her attention to detail is legendary, which is probably why her lifestyle brand has 2.1 million followers and counting. The girl knows how to curate an experience.
"So you're a friend of the bride?" Ezalea asks as we walk through the open-air lobby.
"Actually, I'm a friend of the groom," I say, pulling out my phone to discreetly capture some behind-the-scenes content. "Jared and I dated years ago, but we've stayed close friends. I'm genuinely excited to celebrate his happiness."
Ezalea's eyebrows rise slightly—probably not the typical ex-girlfriend response she's used to hearing. But then again, most people don't understand that sometimes relationships evolve into something better than romance. Jared and I worked great as friends once we stopped trying to force a connection that just wasn't there.
Check-in is seamless in that way that only happens at places where money is truly no object. Ezalea handles all the details while I create some arrival content, capturing the lobby details and my excitement about the week ahead.
"Ms. King, you're in the Sunset Suite 4B," Ezalea says, handing me elegant key cards and an information packet that's probably more comprehensive than most travel guides. "Ocean view, private balcony, and you have adjoining accommodations with another wedding party member."
"Adjoining?" I ask, accepting the keys. "Like connecting rooms?"
