twenty minutes. The cabdriver lifted the heavy fountain out of the trunk, and I pulled the wheeled suitcase into the back stairwell, made sure the doorway was firmly locked, and climbed the steps to the apartment above the Blend.
There was no sign of Matt or Joy. I found Koa Waipuna alone, slumped on the couch in a rumpled jacket. The collar of his shirt was open, and his face was flushed, the odors of beer and Jagermeister wafting around him like a fog of hops and black licorice.
“Koa? Where is everybody?”
“Joy headed out to meet her friends,” Koa said. “Matt’s in the bathroom. I finally convinced him to take a shower. Sober up a little.”
“You look like you could use a bit of sobering, too.” I sat down beside the big Hawaiian.
“I couldn’t let the dude drink alone. That’s like… pathetic.”
Koa sat up and pulled the cord off his ponytail. He shook his head until his long black hair flowed like an obsidian waterfall around his huge shoulders.
“What happened?”
“After the scene in the restaurant, me, Javier Lozado, and his buddy Hector-”
“Hector Pena?” I asked, recalling the sad-faced man who was mourning his daughter.
“That’s him. We took off after Matt, but he was long gone by the time we hit the sidewalk. We all split up.” Koa rubbed his bleary eyes. “I found Matt about an hour later, at a bar he took me to the last time I was in town. We started drinking, and he told me his troubles. I called Javier’s cell, and he met us, helped me get Matt back here.”
I’d only just met Javier. But I remembered him well (most women probably would). The retro south-of-the-border machismo thing was hard to forget, but it was his dashing, good-natured aura that impressed me most.
“Where’s Javier now?” I asked. “I should thank him, too.”
“He went off to find Hector, who’s still missing,” Koa replied. “Javier was worried about finding the man, the state he’s in. But until he left, he was great. He spoke to Matt a long time in Spanish, as if they were brothers. It was like all that crap over Louisa never happened.”
“Louisa? That one’s a new name. Who’s Louisa?”
From his expression, I could tell Koa regretted his schnapps-loosened tongue. “Oh, just some girl down in Colombia. I don’t even know her last name. Javier was dating her-or was he engaged to her? I forget. Anyway, the way Matt tells the story, she and Javier had a big fight, and he stormed off, leaving the girl hanging for weeks. Louisa didn’t know whether Javier was ever coming back, so Matt tried to comfort her, and they ended up in bed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Matt’s a cad, but at least he’s true to form.”
“What do you mean?”
“He loves women, that’s what I mean. With Matt, sex never implied love or commitment, just a way to express a fleeting feeling. Did Javier ever want his girl back?”
“You know men.” Koa grunted. “Women, too, for that matter. Louisa threw it up in Javier’s face that she slept with his friend, and Javier dropped a rock. He and Matt ended up rolling around in the street.” Koa shrugged. “But they got over it. They’re pretty close now, those two. You should have seen them tonight.”
Koa glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go, Clare. I’m sorry-”
“No, don’t worry. I don’t hear any breaking glass upstairs. Matt’s probably in bed already, sleeping it off.”
I said good night to Koa, then went to check on Matt. Unfortunately for me, the bed was empty, except for my little coffee bean-colored cat, who looked quite happy, her paws extended, her white belly showing.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Java, another occupant’s on his way.”
I went to the bathroom and knocked on the door. I didn’t hear the shower, and I didn’t get an answer.
“Matt?”
Still no answer.
I pushed my way in. Matt was on the floor, curled up on (and regrettably not
“Let’s go. Time for bed,” I said, taking his arm.
Matt was still damp from his shower, and just about as slippery as Randall Knox, but I managed to get him on his feet and into the guest room, ignoring his mumbled demands.
“I want some black coffee,” he said as I forced him onto the bed.
(He wanted some other things from me, too, a list of things, actually. All of them would have been stimulating. None had anything to do with caffeine.)
“Forget it,” I firmly told him. “You have to get some rest. You don’t want your eyes to look bloodshot for your wedding pictures, do you?”
“There’s not gonna be any damn wedding,” Matt said. (Okay, I’m
While Matt ranted, I stripped away the towel, nudged my little cat over, and forced Matt to lie back on the pile of pillows. Then I covered his hard body with a soft blanket.
“Look, Matt, I know you’re still furious about what Breanne did. It was wrong for her to send every person in your little black PDA book a wedding announcement. But, come on, wouldn’t these women have found out anyway?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. A lot of them live in other countries. I doubt they read New York gossip columns or American magazines.”
“You mean you were actually planning to date some of these women after your wedding?”
“You know how I am, Clare. I like to keep my options open.”
I sighed, nudged his leg over, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s going to be hard for you to hear this, but as much as I can’t stand Breanne personally, I have to confess I
Matt’s bloodshot eyes widened in outrage. “What?”
“It’s smart. She obviously wants you to give fidelity a try.”
Matt frowned. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”
“What
“Monogamy’s retro. Breanne’s said it herself, more than once.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t care what she said. I think, deep down, Breanne feels the same emotions I used to about you: jealousy, possessiveness, anger-”
He waved me off. “You don’t know Breanne like I do.”
“No.
Matt and I could usually communicate with very few words. At the moment, I felt as though we were talking two different languages. I sat in silence for a moment.
“Tell me, truthfully,” I finally said. “What is it that you love about Breanne?”
This question seemed to baffle the groom. (Not a good sign.) I waited as he searched the bedroom ceiling, finally he met my eyes.
“I… I guess I love my life with her,” he said quietly. “It’s always fun to be with Bree, you know, exciting. She can always find a party, no matter what city she’s in. Man, that woman loves to party. And seeing Rome, Paris, Tokyo with her… it was great. It’s always the best with her: limos, top hotels, the finest restaurants.”
“So it’s her money you love?”
“No…” Matt frowned. “Honestly, it’s what we enjoy together, Clare. I mean, Bree loves that life-the traveling, the networking with new people-and when I’m with her, she arranges everything, makes life easy. I don’t have to sweat the small stuff. It’s kind of a relief. She doesn’t mind taking care of things and taking care of me, too-like she did when I broke my arm last fall.”
Like a mom, I thought. It made sense, their relationship. With Breanne in control, Matt was free to extend his eternal boy status all the way to the retirement home.
“Breanne likes adventure, too,” he went on. “After fashion week was over last year in Milan, we took off, ate and drank our way across Italy from behind the wheel of a Lamborghini that some designer loaned her. We skinny-dipped in the Mediterranean at five in the morning, and then we went paragliding. Oh, man, that was such a blast.”
Matt’s expression softened. “I guess I love her for things like that, too.” A hint of a smile moved across his features. “And I guess… I guess I do love Breanne.”
“Then, uh, maybe you should marry her. But I mean really marry her, Matt. Try being a real husband for a change. That might just be an adventure, too.”
Matt studied my face. “You and I weren’t a total disaster, were we?”
“One look at our daughter will answer how I feel about that.”
Matt sighed. “Okay, Clare. I heard everything you said, and I’ll think about it…”
It was the exact same response Breanne had given me at the restaurant earlier today. I returned Matt’s smile, holding out hope that this was a sign the two really were simpatico.
“So the wedding’s on?” I pressed. “You’ll marry Breanne?”
Before Matt could answer, the phone on the nightstand warbled. I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Clare?” It was the harsh, clipped tone of a woman who wasted no time with pleasantries.
“Yes,” I said.
“I gather things didn’t go well with Nunzio, or you wouldn’t be home alone right now.”
Here we go: the return of bridezilla. “Actually, Breanne, I secured the fountain. And I’m not alone. Matt’s here.”
I heard a sharp breath on the other end of the line. She began speaking again, but I put my hand over the receiver and turned to my ex-husband.
“Listen to me, Matt, I have something important to tell you…”
I spilled the beans about Breanne being attacked in Machu Picchu ’s bathroom. Before I could get to Randall Knox or my Gordian knot of conspiracy theories, he snatched the phone from my fingers.
“Breanne, are you all right, honey? You’re not in any pain, are you? Do you want me to come over?”
