Is that even a thing?
I’m a thirty-five-year-old man for fucks sake. I don’t hate kiss.
Not even five whole hours of travel time, and I’ve already proven that coming here with her was a bad idea. Although the look on her face does offer some consolation. She’s affected by being around me as well.
If only she would remember.
Nope. Not going there. And while we’re at it, I need to stop calling her Nicolette as if it’s going to kick start her memory. I haven’t uttered that name in what feels like a lifetime, yet here I am, letting it roll right off my tongue. You’d think that seven years would be enough time to get over… nothing. Absolutely nothing happened, and that’s what I’ve got to keep reminding myself of in order to survive this trip.
This goddamn trip.
Why couldn’t Evan and Amelia ship me off to a different island? It’s not like they’re strapped for cash. My little sister has no idea that my best friend is about to make her a billionaire via marriage. Can’t believe that’s a real sentence in my head.
And while I appreciate the people I love looking out for me, I truly don’t know what I’ve done to deserve having to pay this penance. I saved my sister’s life from a raging lunatic, and she ships me off with the one person I can’t stand being in a room with.
The woman who leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever she goes.
The woman who gallivants through life like she’s untouchable.
The woman who is the absolute worst.
Which is why I need to constantly remind myself of who this woman will always be to me.
The woman who won’t fucking remember.
* * *
As I near the entrance of the hotel, I can hear Nikki straggling along behind me. I focus on the cabana style entryway as I step up a handful of stairs. Once the rest of the hotel has come into view, I’m greeted by a man in a suit… and about a staff of twenty people. Shit, is this a cult?
“Good morning, Mr. Nuñez and Ms. McClane. Welcome to the Barlowe. My name is Frobish, and I am the manager of this oasis, here to assist you with all of your needs for the duration of your stay. Behind me is our staff. They will work around the clock to make sure that your every wish is our command,” he says in a thick Russian accent. He then flicks two fingers in the air, and two men with trays that hold tiny white sugar-cube looking things walk up to us.
Before we’re given any instructions, Nikki dives in and pops one into her mouth. The choir of muted gasps lets me know not to take her lead.
With her mouth full, Nikki states, “Oh. Um, yum. But I had one of these earlier, so I’m just gonna…” She spits it into her hand and drops it onto the tray.
Classy.
One of the tray-holding men clears his throat, then proceeds to produce a tea kettle out of what seems like thin air and runs it over the cube. The hot water causes it to grow… into a hand towel? Once it has reached its full size, this magician pulls out tiny tongs and hands me the steaming towel.
As I run it over my hands, I can smell lemon and lavender. I can’t help but chance a glance at Nikki, whose cheeks have taken on a rosy color. “Interesting. Did you eat a hand towel before your omelet on the plane or after?” I smirk.
“Anywho. Lovely place you got here. But this guy, with his big ole feet and big ole bunions, probably wants to check in and take a nice long nap in his room. Isn’t that right, Tony?” She taps my arm.
And there she goes, calling me Tony again.
“Bunions. Really, Nikki?”
Frobish chuckles quietly. “This isn’t a normal vacation experience, Ms. McClane.”
“Nikki.”
“Of course, Ms. Nikki. Your documents, payment, and everything else we need were collected at the time of booking. Once you deboarded from your plane, our systems corroborated your identities. So now all that is left to do is to join me on the golf cart so that I can show you the over-the-water bungalow you and Mr. Nuñez will be sharing during your stay.”
I hear an immediate hissing sound. And if not for Nikki being right next to me, I would have thought a tropical snake had made its way to greet us.
“What the hell are you doing, Nikki?”
“Sorry.” She blushes. “Just wanted to make sure I heard Frobish’s beautiful accent correctly. Just adding anstobungalow. You know, bungalowsss. That’s all. Please carry on.” She nods at Frobish. He looks at her as if she’s grown a second head.
