whole time I thought he was just playing around, trying to make trouble because he was bored.”
“Guess you were wrong, huh?” Devon stood and
then reached down and pulled her friend up. “We can’t stay in here sitting on the floor forever. Are you ready to go out and drown Travis in the pool? I’ll help you if you want.”
“Thanks for the offer.” Celeste stood thinking for a moment. She turned toward the kitchen and then
turned back. “No, I’ll call Nick first. Then I’ll kill Travis.”
“Celeste, don’t be such an idiot!” Devon practically shouted. “The guy just totally martyred himself for you and you’re going to call him? Go find him!”
“Drive to L.A.? Now? But it’s seven o’clock! And I’m supposed to go to Tempe tomorr—wait a minute.”
Celeste realized what she was saying. “I’m not going to Tempe tomorrow.”
Devon just stood, watching her friend.
“I think I’m going to L.A.,” Celeste said.
“Woo-hoo!” Devon flung her arms into the air. “You rock, girl. Don’t waste one more second on Travis the Asshole.”
Celeste hugged Devon as hard as she could. Then she walked out the door, leaving Devon standing in the hall behind her, the world’s biggest grin on her lips. As she ran down the walk to the Civic, Celeste’s plan fell into place in her mind, like coins clinking into a row of slots.
She glanced at her watch. If traffic was on her side, she could be in L.A. by eleven o’clock. She only hoped she wasn’t too late.
Chapter Twenty-six
Celeste pulled away from the curb, her headlights cutting a long white beam into the descending
desert evening. She had to find Nick. She had
to tell him—what? That she was sorry, first of all.
And … she’d figure the rest out later. Maybe she’d know what to say when she saw him. But she had to see him.
Back at the resort, Celeste let herself into the quiet office. She flicked on one of the computers. While it booted up, she stared into the falling shadows, thinking of Nick’s face that morning. His blue eyes had been so sad. The computer beeped and she quickly drew up the master guest list. Sanderson, Sanstein, Saunders. Thirty-two Waterwood Court. She plugged the address into Google, grabbed the directions from the printer, and turned off the computer.
As she got up to leave, she heard the office door open behind her.
“Celeste …” Travis’s voice was pleading as she turned to face him. “I—”
“Stop.” She cut him off. Storming past him into the darkened lobby, Celeste realized that she had to deal with this. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her anger from boiling over.
Seizing on her pause, Travis stepped forward and put his hand on the small of her back. “Celeste, I’m so—”
“No, Travis. You don’t get to talk.” Celeste spun around to face him. “You don’t get to try to make this better. Because this isn’t about the prank. Or even about letting Nick, who happens to be the son of my parents’
very best clients, take the fall for you.” She could feel her momentum building. Travis dropped his hand to his side and Celeste stood up straighter.
“This is about me, and my family, and our business.
You knew exactly how important this festival was to us.
But, just like you did all summer, you completely disregarded my feelings. I begged you—begged—to leave Nick alone, to give me a break, to trust me and let me do what was best for my family. And you ignored every word. I can’t be with someone like that. So don’t apologize. Just go.”
Travis’s jaw had dropped slightly, but he closed his mouth and collected himself. “Look, I’m sorry I got so jealous. I just couldn’t stand the way he looked at you all the time. It made me crazy.”
Celeste laughed. “Wow. Again, my very simple
request gets ignored. I understand being jealous once, but after I assured you that it was you I wanted to be with? That’s called trusting your girlfriend, Travis. And maybe not doing exactly what you felt like doing exactly when you felt like doing it. For once. So how about, for the first time in our relationship, you just listen to me?
Please. Leave.”
Travis didn’t move. Rather than waste another
moment, she walked past him to the door leading outside.
Pushing it open, she paused and turned her head back.
“Just so we’re clear, Travis,” she said calmly. “We’re very, very over. Good luck in college.” With that, she stepped into the desert night.
Once she was back in the car, Celeste floored the accelerator. Now that she knew the truth, she couldn’t stand to let Nick think she blamed him. And Travis …
Celeste shook her head. She’d figure out what to do about him later. Right now, she needed to focus on Nick.
The two-hour drive to the coast seemed like ten.
Even though she drove seventy the whole way, Celeste felt like the exits were creeping by. Finally, the orange night glow of L.A. shone ahead of her, like some sort of apocalypse on the horizon. She slowed down as the sub-urbs started flashing by and consulted her directions.
Right on Route 25. Straight for five miles, then left on Wilton Boulevard. Celeste peered through the windshield. The street sign for Waterwood loomed on her right. She turned. Her heart was pounding and her hands were sweaty on the steering wheel.
Nick’s house—or mansion, Celeste noted—stood at the top of a little hill, the broad green lawn sweeping up to wide terrace in front, circled by the smoothly paved driveway. The black Mercedes was parked in the driveway. The house windows were dark. Celeste parked at the curb and cut the motor. She could feel the adrenaline that had fueled her through the ride slowly evaporating. What was she going to do now—ring the doorbell and explain to Mr.
Saunders why she was showing up at his house at almost midnight, wearing nothing but a sundress and a black bikini? Somehow, she didn’t think that would go over too well. Just then, the sweep of
