way, waiting for whatever wrathful words he had for her.
He came to a rapid halt about two feet in front of her. She
stared at the grass between their shoes, and after a full minute of silence, she dared to meet his eyes. Those grey-blue eyes had
always had a certain transparency for her. She could never tell
exactly what he was thinking, but she could read his emotional
state fairly well most of the time. The sorrow she now saw be-
hind them overwhelmed her with remorse. Yet she still stood
behind her original decision. He’d been far better off not know-
ing. But it was too late to think about all that now.
“I’m finding it hard to form a cohesive sentence,” he finally
sighed, rubbing his stubble nervously.
Stephanie nodded and released her camera so that it hung
forgotten around her neck. “That makes two of us.”
He heaved a gut-wrenching sigh and put his hands in his
pockets. “I have no idea where to begin.”
She nodded. “I’ll start. Plain and simple: I should have told
you. But honestly, now I’m really sorry you had to find out at
all.”
He nodded, never taking his eyes off of the crashing surf of
the shore below. She saw grief weighing on his handsome fea-
tures and vividly remembered when it had all been so fresh for
her that it stung every morning when she woke. She’d robbed
him of the opportunity to properly mourn for far too long. Regret crippled her, and she took slow, steady breathes to calm herself so that when she spoke again, she sounded level and calm.
“It was a girl, Phillip.” She offered. His eyes shot to hers,
and he took a jarring step back as if she’d hit him. Tears sprang 144
RAGE
to his eyes, and he held up a defensive hand. Steph’s eyes darted to his, trying to understand his body language. She was shocked
at the extent of his reaction.
“I….I really thought I was ready to do this. I…I’m sorry; I
just can’t.” He backed slowly away from her as if she had a gun
trained on him. She opened her mouth to ask him not to go, but
his eyes begged her not to speak, to spare him further wounds.
She said nothing and watched him walk away once again.
She made sure to lag behind as everyone piled into SUV’s
for their next stop, the village center. Finally, she climbed into the last remaining Land Rover with Saffron, Nathan, and Cheyenne, who looked psychotically pissed. When they disembarked
in town, Steph watched Scot approach their vehicle. Though she
couldn’t hear what they were saying to one another, Cheyenne
looked like she was about to go fifty shades of ghetto on Scot.
Kara stood a few yards away from them, cradling Liam. The
nanny looked incredibly afraid.
“Fine!” Cheyenne shouted, and she stalked off in the oppo-
site direction of the rest of their party. Steph trailed after her, running to catch up.
“Where the hell are you going?” Steph panted as she fell in
next to Cheyenne.
“To spend obscene amounts of Scot’s money.” Her icy tone
took Steph by surprise.
“Right on. Mind if I tag along?” she sputtered.
“Sure. Why the hell not?” Cheyenne snapped. Steph led
Cheyenne to the boutique she’d gone to earlier, and the moment
they entered, Cheyenne spoke. “What’s the most expensive thing
in this store?”
The same saleswoman that had helped Steph in broken Por-
tuguese two nights before suddenly spoke English like a duchess.
Steph glared at her, but the saleswoman was too busy fawning
over Cheyenne and her platinum card to notice.
Steph sat outside of the dressing room flipping through old
145
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
issues of Vogue, when she heard a strangled, choking sound and
realized it was Cheyenne sobbing.
“Chey, is everything ok?” It was a ridiculous question, and
Steph actually slapped herself in the forehead for asking it.
“No!” Cheyenne blubbered and after beating on the door for
a couple more minutes, Steph unceremoniously crawled under
the dressing room door. Cheyenne hadn’t even managed to un-
dress. She had her face buried in the corner, sniffling. Steph
walked over and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her
around.
“What in the hell is going on with you and Scot?” Steph
demanded. Cheyenne dissolved into racking sobs.
“I think he’s sleeping with Kara.” Cheyenne yanked the
shirt off over her head and dropped her skirt to the floor. She
tossed a dress worth a few grand onto the floor to get at another one. She yanked it over her head as if it were a Fury t-shirt and not a designer gown.
Steph’s eyes bugged out, and her jaw hit the floor. “I’m sor-
ry. What?”
Cheyenne proceeded to wipe her nose on the gown she was
wearing, and then yank it back off. “I keep catching them off
alone whispering. And he’s always touching her.”
Steph couldn’t imagine it could be true. Scot was one of the
good guys. He worshiped Cheyenne. This all had to be some sort
of mistake. She was about to say as much, but the homicidal look on Cheyenne’s face made her think better of it. “Did you confront him?”
“No. I demanded he fire her, and he refused. He defended
her and said she was a ‘really good nanny’.”
“That son of a…” Steph spat, and she flopped down on the
bench in the dressing room.
“You know, I hate all of this shit.” Cheyenne reached down
and held up a gold, glittery clutch. “This is the only thing in this store I like. I’m buying this, and we’re getting a liquid lunch.”
146
RAGE
“You need to buy the one you used as a tissue.”
Thirty minutes later, Cheyenne had drained her second mo-
jito, and Steph was lost in thought as she looked out over the
square. Scot had always been enamored with Cheyenne, and
Steph couldn’t believe it was all some sort of an act. The wait-
ress produced another drink for Cheyenne, who chugged it.
Steph pushed her food around on her plate, and Cheyenne didn’t
even bother to pick up her fork.
“We should just head back to Maravilha. You can hang out
in my room until the luau.”
Cheyenne shook her head. “I can’t guarantee I won’t attack
Kara.”
“I’ll switch rooms with Pilar.” Steph was referring to the
lone bridesmaid Saffron always referred to as “fat.” Cheyenne
shrugged and threw a wad of cash onto
