“Oh, hell,” Alec said, as if he was fed up with the conversation. He started climbing out of the bed, but Lilly decided she was fed up too, and ran for the door, making her way into the hall with the sound of him calling her name ringing in her ears.
It was done. This time, truly O-V-E-R.
Lilly arrived back at her bungalow, red-faced and anxious. Stressed by the conversation with Alec, she’d gotten herself turned around again and had wandered the deserted grounds of the resort, disoriented and growing more tense with every passing minute. It was only by luck that she’d found the narrow track leading to the front door. When the key card clicked in the lock and it swung inward, she nearly fell inside, relieved. Reprieved.
Rubbing her hand over her chest to calm her thudding heart, she walked into the living area, only to encounter Audra, who stared at her in equal surprise.
The blonde had her hands curved around a steaming cup of in-room coffee and her gaze cut to the closed door of Lilly’s bedroom, then back to Lilly. “It’s so early. I thought you were still sleeping. That you’d gotten in late and had yet to wake up.”
She took in the other woman’s figure, nearly hidden by the too-large sweats. But Audra’s face gave away that she’d lost weight. There were shadows beneath her eyes and her lips were cracked and pale. “I’m the worst friend,” Lilly said, taking note again of the black coffee her friend was lifting to her mouth. “I need to feed you a real breakfast.”
Hustling to the coffee table by the sofa, she flipped through the hospitality binder to locate the room service menu. “Lattés, side orders of bacon and sausage. Look, they have ricotta pancakes!”
There was a thirty-minute guarantee on delivery, which gave Lilly enough time to shower and put on fresh clothes. She glanced at the garment bag hanging on the outside of her closet door as she entered her room and felt a fresh round of anxiety. Apparently the dress she’d bought at a State Street boutique the day before had been sent over. After making payment, the store had insisted on keeping the garment for the afternoon in order to repair an inch of fallen hem and to give it a fresh press.
The purchase had been Jojo’s idea. The other woman had persuaded Lilly that she must attend the dinner-dance serving as the final event in the Thatcher anniversary celebration week. The guests would not only include the family staying at the resort, but also a crowd of friends who were caravanning up from LA in stretch limousines. Rich people could never take no for an answer, Lilly thought now, recalling her weak protest followed by the inevitable capitulation. They expected everything and everyone to fall into line.
A warm shower washed away some of her resentment, and she walked back out to the living area, wearing a smile, a pair of yoga pants, and her favorite hoodie. The fragrance of delicious breakfast food was unmistakable. “I’m all dressed for overloading on carbs and fat,” she declared, pulling on the elastic waistband of her bottoms to prove there was extra space.
She headed straight for the room service cart and the domed platters sitting there. “Can I serve you?” she asked Audra. “And don’t worry, we have sliced melon and kiwis to counter all the bad stuff.”
When her friend didn’t answer, she glanced over. “What?” she said in response to the other woman’s speculative gaze. “What is it?”
“I was just wondering how long you thought you could get away without explaining your walk of shame.”
Lilly returned her attention to the plate she was filling, stabbing a sausage with slightly more vigor than necessary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t know why you’re trying to pretend it didn’t happen. I’m your best friend. It’s not like I’m judging you.”
“There is no walk of shame when you’re wearing jeans and athletic shoes, is why. That walk only happens in a teeny dress and when you’re barefoot and carrying your fuck-me shoes on your finger.”
“Lilly Durand would never not wear shoes in a public space.”
This was true. Her friend really knew her well. “I go shoe-less at a pool,” she said with great dignity. “And the beach. I like the feel of sand on my toes.”
Audra rolled her eyes and came forward to snatch up one of the plates loaded with breakfast calories. With a fork in hand, she dropped to the sofa. “What’s the latest between you and Alec Thatcher?”
When Lilly didn’t answer, her friend gusted a sigh. “You’re sleeping together. Admit it.”
There was no point in denial. “We did sleep together.”
“Was that so hard?” Audra asked.
Lilly couldn’t say. Admitting she slept with Alec wasn’t the issue, it was explaining the aftermath that tied her tongue.
“Well, I’m proud of you. I hope you end up with a fabulous, glamorous regret, something like Pink might have, or…I don’t know…Angelina Jolie.”
“She’s got all those weird tattoos,” Lilly pointed out. “I don’t want that many regrets.”
“A teeny one then, manageable, like a blurry butterfly on your ankle or a small Japanese character on your shoulder that you thought was the symbol for ‘rebel’ but really means ‘noodles.’” Audra drew in a breath. “In the ensuing years, we’ll laugh hysterically over it during those happy hours when we forget to order food along with the wine.”
“I don’t think I’m ever going to be laughing about Alec,” Lilly muttered, forking up a piece of fluffy pancake.
“What’s that?”
“How about you?” Lilly said, turning the tables. “Give me a progress report on your own regret-pursuit.” Of course she didn’t want to encourage her friend to get into any trouble, but she might feel more upbeat wearing some regular clothes and experiencing the air beyond the four walls of the bungalow.
Audra’s mouth twisted. “It might take a little more time to get started.” Her
