“It’ll actually just be me tonight,” I tell him.
“Of course, sir,” he says, valiantly ignoring that I’ve just been abandoned.
I order Andros Island crab bisque with pork belly and, for my main, grilled spiny lobster. Amanda and Carly are seated at the table beside mine just as my soup arrives.
“You should join us!” Amanda says, waving me over.
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” I say. “Thanks.”
“Please, I beg you,” Carly says. “We’re here for another week and we’re already sick of each other.”
“Doesn’t bode well for our marriage,” Amanda says.
I like them, and I’d rather make conversation than eat soup alone, so I agree.
The waiter sets up a place for me at their table.
“So, what happened out there?” Carly asks. “With your… friend?”
Amanda nudges her. “Don’t be rude.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “Long story, but fine.”
“We have all night.”
“Well, that girl—her name is Hope—we met on the ship and had a… thing.”
Over the course of my soup, then their appetizers, then our mains, and then a truly exquisite soursop and mango mousse we all share, I tell them the whole sordid story.
This, of course, leads them to a deep dive down Lauren’s Instagram.
The posts of Hope have been deleted but they dissect the many videos of the cruise that are still up over their third glasses of champagne.
“Okay, hold up, Felix,” Amanda says. “This girl is kind of hilarious. Like, I think I love her.”
“You don’t think what she’s doing is gross?” I ask. “Being a professional gold digger?”
Carly scoffs at me. “Felix, she’sobviouslynot serious. Come on. She must know that no man is going to marry her if he thinks she’s targeting him for money and posting about it on social media. She’s playing a character.”
“And judging by her number of followers, she’s doing it all the way to the bank,” Amanda says.
“Um, yes,” Carly says. “I can assure you a girl with this many luxury sponsorships doesn’t need a sugar daddy. The internet’s her sugar daddy.”
In the context of two impartial observers being extremely rational, I begin to reconsider things. It does all track with what Hope said.
“God,” I say. “Maybe I’ve been an idiot.”
Amanda nods at me sadly. “A big one.”
I put my head in my hands as the enormity of what they’re saying sinks in.
Hope isn’t any of the things I’ve accused her of being.
She’s the lovely person I thought she was.
And I’ve been a massive prick.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “She’s right to hate me, isn’t she? She told me all this and I refused to believe her.”
