the opposite shore. Occasionally the leaves in the upper canopy would rustle as an unseen bird, or monkey maybe, alighted from a branch. After four years of city living, Larissa forgot such serenity existed.
She remembered when she decided to get married at La Joya. The photos online looked so gorgeous, she’d fallen in love at first sight. What could be more romantic than getting married in paradise? Delilah and Chloe always teased her when she said stuff like that. You think everything’s romantic, Delilah would say. Then they’d joked and call her a Bridezilla because she changed the venue three times.
She loved her friends, but they didn’t understand her any more than Tom did. She’d been planning her wedding day since she was six years old, and spied on her first dress fitting through the crack in her grandmother’s accordion doors. When the bride stepped out of the fitting room all white and sparkly, it was like a princess in real life. So pretty, so...special. Standing there, surrounded by faded yellow wallpaper, she glowed. They all did. All the brides, all the prom queens. Delilah did, too, when she married Simon. So much so, it took her breath away. All Larissa wanted was to glow like that. To have one day where she was the princess.
And she’d come so close. She could still remember how excited she’d been when Tom proposed. Handsome, successful, stable Tom Wainwright wanted her. All those years dreaming a man would fall in love with her, and whisk her off into the sunset and finally her dream had come true. Or so she’d thought.
A soft cough reminded her she wasn’t alone. Señor Chavez had moved to her elbow. “I’m told our former wedding coordinator was quite distracted toward the end of her tenure with us. Her abrupt departure has caused more than a few loose ends.”
“Let me guess. She left six weeks ago.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Figures. How much did Larissa want to bet she took off shortly after their phone conversation?
“I’ll personally take care of canceling all your obligations. However, there is one problem.”
Say no more. Larissa made her living typing advertising sales contracts. An agreement was an agreement. Without evidence she actually spoke with Maria del Olma, it was her word against the computer system. “You’re telling me I’m liable for the expense. How much?” She tried to remember the terms of their agreement. Technically, she gave them fewer than twenty-four hours. Which meant...
There was a pause. “The entire amount.”
Oh for crying out loud. “Seriously? The whole thing?”
“I am afraid so.”
“Even though you guys are the ones who made the mistake.” She shook her head. If she ever found Maria del Olma, she would slap the woman. No way Tom would pony up any of his share, either. She could hear him now. This was your obsession, Larissa, not mine.
“You know this is completely unfair, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can’t take something off the bill?” After all, it was his staff member’s error.
“Please?” she asked, lowering her glasses. She could tell from his expression, he was struggling with a response, the need to recoup costs clashing with his desire to make the guest happy. Might as well throw a little hangdog-inspired guilt in to tilt the scales in her favor. “What if I pay half?”
He sighed. “Best I can do is reduce the cost by thirty percent.”
“Only thirty?” This was so not helping her headache. “What about the fact that I brought in business? Didn’t you say those people signed a contract?” In her opinion, she deserved half off for that alone.
A shadow crossed the railing as he appeared at her elbow. Looking right, she saw him studying her with an arched brow. “I thought you didn’t remember last night.”
“I remember the reason for the Cabernet.” In fact, she was pretty sure she toasted the couple’s health and happiness once or twice.
“The Steinbergs are the reason I’m willing to go as high as thirty.”
“Oh.”
“You have to understand, space was blocked off, food has been specially prepared. The bridal cake alone...”
“No need to explain. I get it.” She’d heard the sales department make similar arguments every day. Legal contracts didn’t care about your sob story.
“I am sorry.”
Not as sorry as she was. “What’s going to happen to everything I ordered?” The custom-colored linen, the custom spa arrangements. Her headache doubled as she thought of all the little extras. She couldn’t begin to list everything.
“What can be returned to venders will be returned, the rest, like the food, will be served through the restaurant or sadly, thrown away.”
“Including the cake?” Her beautiful, three-tier white chocolate cake with raspberry mousse filling.
“I suspect it will become tonight’s dessert special.”
“Well, isn’t that peachy? I can order my reception dinner and pay twice. I might as well go ahead and have the reception anyway.”
He stared, clearly trying to read whether she was serious. “Aren’t we being a bit extreme? It is, after all, only a dinner.”
“Only a dinner?” No, chicken in a bucket was only a dinner. This was fifteen months of work and planning. “We’re talking about my wedding reception.”
“Which, had it taken place, would have had you marrying a man who was unfaithful.”
Larissa winced. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“Better to see things clearly now than stay lost in a romantic haze only to discover the truth five months later,” he replied. “Trust me, a dinner is a far easier price to pay.”
“Reception,” Larissa corrected under her breath. There was a difference. Clearly, he thought her as silly as everyone else. Maybe they were right, and she was silly and overly romantic. Didn’t make today sting any less.
“I think I’m going to lie down,” she said with a sniff. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”
“Of course. I’ll make sure housekeeping doesn’t bother you,” he said, moving toward the door. “Again, I am sorry for the miscommunication.”
“Thirty percent sorry, anyway,” she replied.
A small smile tugged at his mouth, but was quickly reined in. “I hope you feel better.”
“Me, too,” she told him, turning back to the view. Paradise had suddenly become very expensive.
* * *
So help him, if Maria del Olma or her boyfriend ever stepped foot on resort property again, he would strangle both of them with his bare hands. Teeth clenched, Carlos let out a low growl, and wished he was farther away from Larissa’s front door so he could
