provide it to him.
Saffron sat down at the table offering Steph a mimosa, but
she shook her head in response. She decided she was going to
remain alcohol-free until the wedding reception. Tomorrow
morning she would do some sunrise yoga on the beach and may-
be get a massage before the wedding party monopolized the spa.
She needed a healthy way of coping with Phillip and everything
his presence in her life brought along with him. It was time to
grab hold of the reigns.
As Yara’s parents entered the building from the poolside
patio, a breeze rolled in from the sea. It was an example of an-
other perfect Noronha day. The forecast was rain-free, unlike the next two days, which were a bit iffy. She wished the wedding
were today, for Yara’s sake. She wanted to spend the rest of the trip focusing on relaxation and taking care of her hosts, David
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and Yara.
Today, their fretful hostess planned an excursion to the vil-
lage center and the historic forts for some sight-seeing and shopping. Then tonight was the luau at Praia da Conceição. It was a
celebration of the full moon on Noronha. Supposedly the moon
was so bright you could see the rocks in the water, and there
would be a huge bonfire dance party that lasted until dawn. After ditching out on the second half of the boat excursion, Steph had vowed a blood oath to Cedric and Cheyenne that she would follow Yara’s wedding itinerary from here on out.
Cheyenne and Scot entered the dining room holding hands.
Steph shifted her eyes away from them to Liam; they were posi-
tively glowing, and it was almost painful to witness that level of happiness.
“’Ello, son!” Scot boomed, scooping Liam out of his seat
and kissing him loudly on the cheek in rapid fire succession.
Liam squealed and giggled hysterically. Cheyenne plopped into
the chair next to Stephanie. Nathan smiled at her knowingly.
“Thanks for the sound effects last night. Your enthusiasm
really motivated Saffron to up her game.” He raised a glass to-
ward Cheyenne, who turned a vivid shade of fuchsia. She
glanced at her husband and covered a smiled with her hand. Scot
wriggled his eyebrows up and down at his wife looking like a
super-hot version of Groucho Marx. A sideways grin tugged on
Steph’s lips. She remembered how hard Cheyenne had fought
against Scot’s pursuits when they first met. Steph had always
been partial to Scot. He was so genuine and approached Fury in
a business-like manner she found admirable. He never seemed to
be caught up in his own press like Nathan, and unlike Phillip, he didn’t deceive himself that he was “changing the world through
art.” Phillip. His name rolled around like a poisoned marble in her brain. Steph felt as if she were being pelted with tiny shards of loneliness. She rolled her eyes at herself beneath her sunglass-135
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
es and took another big swig of coffee.
She pulled her satellite phone from her purse. Cheyenne
reached out after her as if about to tell her something urgent, but Steph held up a finger for her to wait. She wandered to the far
edge of the infinity pool as she pulled up Christopher’s number
and pressed the call button. She had no idea what would come
out of her mouth, but she’d waited way too long to call him back and had to do or say something. She went directly to voicemail.
She shook her head. He must be in a meeting, she thought. She
suddenly needed to hear his reassuring voice.
She felt a bit sentimental as she remembered the night she
agreed to start seeing Chris. She’d gone to a New Year’s Eve
party at Rick Gervais’s house, mostly because Gordon Ramsey
was going to be there, and she was obsessed with him. When he
called to invite her, Ricky made her promise she’d do her im-
pression of Gordon for Gordon, but when the time came, Steph ironically found Gordon incredibly intimidating. Thankfully,
Gordon ended up being surprisingly cool and down to earth, and
right after she’d shouted at him to ‘fuck off out of her kitchen’ in a flawless accent, she turned around and found herself face to
face with her agent.
“Christopher!” It was quite a surprise to see him in a social
setting. He wore a bold navy suit, and Steph was struck by how
handsome he looked with his new nose courtesy of Phillip Ker-
sey. It had been awkward between them since he confessed his
feelings were more than just professional for her, and they’d on-ly spoken by email and via text since that time.
“I see you’re insulting my client.” Christopher smirked, and
Steph looked over her shoulder at Gordon Ramsey.
“He’s your client, too?” she laughed, and Christopher nod-
ded.
“They give me all the ‘challenging personalities,’” he dead-
panned, and she laughed.
“Hey, now! At least I didn’t punch him.” His lips curled in
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an appreciative grin, and he whirled her onto the dance floor and promptly pulled her securely into his strong arms. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it in a Disney Princess sort of way.
Within three songs, he reaffirmed his interest in dating her.
“Do you like French cuisine?” He pulled her closer against
him, and she felt the odd tingling sensation she hadn’t felt in far too long.
Stephanie opened her mouth to decline and was surprised
when she didn’t want to. She hadn’t dated a “civilian” since
Pace, and considering how poorly her last two relationships had
gone, shifting gears might be just what she needed to do.
“Sure. You can take me out for French food some time. No
escargot, though. Maybe French fries.”
A week later, he turned up on the doorstep of her Paris
apartment with an overnight bag, and the rest was history.
She tried to call him once more, and once more the call
went to voicemail. She swore at herself and hit the disconnect
button. She had an ominous sense of déjà vu, wondering if she
should check her email for a letter of resignation and a separate
“Dear John” letter.
When she returned to the group, she noticed they’d been
joined by David and Yara. As Steph took a vacant seat near the
empty end of the table, she noticed
