wanted answers, saying that he needed closure, and she’d given them. She even hoped that, by finally talking to him about their failed wedding day, she herself would feel better. But while Melanie had watched Lawrence’s back as he’d walked away from her table—moments before the waitress had returned with his omelet—the last thing she had felt was closure.
Still, during her spa session with Richelle, she’d talked tough. “I feel good,” she’d said as she and Richelle had lain on side-by-side massage tables, overlooking floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the stunning view of the ocean. “We talked, I explained my feelings, and now he understands. It’s silly that I avoided him for so long, because the truth is, talking to him today helped me get closure, as well.”
“Closure?” Richelle asked, her voice ripe with skepticism.
“Yeah. He deserved to know why, and I’d been running from that for months. That’s why I was so stressed. Because I never talked to him and gave him answers. I guess I thought he was going to flip out, and I couldn’t deal with that. But our talk went well, we resolved things, and now all the stress is leaving my body.”
That’s what Melanie had said as the skilled masseuse had worked the kinks out of her neck and back, but hours later, she felt some of the tension in her neck return. That’s where she really felt her stress. She was still thinking about Lawrence, remembering that crushed expression in his eyes. And she was definitely feeling guilt over the fact that she knew she had hurt him.
“I didn’t even ask Lawrence how long he was staying in Fiji,” Melanie said now, leaning in to whisper to Richelle hours later, as they sat on chairs on the beach for the evening’s entertainment.
“Why does that matter?” Richelle asked.
She shrugged. “Just curious. I know you don’t believe me about having closure, but if he shows up here tonight, I assure you I’ll be able to go over and have a friendly chat with him. He and I can be friends now, Richelle.”
The fire illuminated Richelle’s face, making it extremely easy to see exactly what she thought of Melanie’s theory. “Hogwash.”
“What?”
“You do realize that you haven’t stopped talking about Lawrence all day?” Richelle pointed out.
Melanie’s stomach tightened uncomfortably. “Richelle, let’s just enjoy the show.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who brought up Lawrence. Again.”
Roy returned from the bar then with the two piña coladas Melanie and Richelle had requested. He handed a drink to each of them, then sat beside Richelle and slipped his arm around her shoulder. The entire wedding group seemed to be enjoying the traditional Fijian warrior show, with men in grass skirts and donning swords doing some sort of ritualistic dance. It was spectacular. But with each minute that passed, Melanie felt increasingly alone.
Beside her, Richelle was caught up with Roy. Leaning into him. Giggling at words he whispered into her ear. It suddenly struck Melanie that once the wedding was over, and even before that, she would be largely left to her own devices.
She surveyed the crowd of hotel guests. So far she hadn’t seen Lawrence and Shemar. She wondered if he was avoiding tonight’s festivities on the beach because of her.
But he had no need to. He had gotten the answers he’d wanted. Even if he didn’t like them.
About ten minutes later, Melanie caught sight of his face through her peripheral vision as he sifted his way through the crowd. Instantly, her heart slammed into her chest at the mere glimpse of him. She felt that familiar, fierce attraction she’d felt even the first day she had laid eyes on him. He was absolutely gorgeous.
You let him go? people had asked. But he’s so hot.
Perhaps it was because Lawrence was so hot that Melanie had felt even more insecure. She was a beautiful woman, and he’d told her so often, but women were often dogged in their determination to steal a man like Lawrence. That’s what Vern had claimed when Richelle had found out about his affair.
But right now, as she took in his sexy torso draped in a white cotton shirt, and his firm behind clad in denim, she felt a purely carnal pull of lust for him.
He was alone and looking for a place to sit. She swallowed, wondering if this was the time for her to put her money where her mouth was and get up and go over to him. Invite him to sit in the empty seat beside her.
And she was just about to rise when she saw him turn and gesture to someone behind him. Craning her neck to see whom he was beckoning over, her stomach tensed violently. Because walking toward Lawrence was not only Shemar, but also two olive-complexioned women dressed in short, tight dresses.
They were gorgeous. The kind of women who oozed sexuality.
“What’s he doing with them?” Melanie asked, her heart beating faster than normal.
She didn’t realize she’d spoken the question aloud until Richelle turned to her asking, “What was that?”
Melanie glanced at Richelle, saw that even as she was trying to talk to her, Roy was nuzzling his nose in her neck.
“Nothing,” Melanie said, swallowing. “Nothing.”
“Stop it!” Richelle chastised Roy playfully. Then said to her, “Sorry, Mel. Oh. Oh. I see. Looks like he did get his closure after all.”
Melanie gaped at Richelle.
“What?” Richelle asked. “You said you two are friends now, didn’t you?”
Melanie grimaced, then put on a brave face. “Exactly.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Nothing,” Melanie said. “He’s entitled to talk to whomever he likes. We’re not together.”
But despite Melanie’s words, her stomach sank when she looked at Lawrence with the women and saw one in particular laughing and touching his arm.
“Wow,” Melanie muttered. “She’s so not his type.”
“Obviously, he’s had to get a new type,” Richelle said. “Since you dumped him.”
The words stung, even though they shouldn’t. But before Melanie could think of a reply for her friend, Roy was stroking Richelle’s face, and she was turning back to her man, and no longer paying any attention to Lawrence or either of the two women who were no doubt trying to seduce him.
The crowd erupted in applause, and Melanie jerked her gaze forward. Out of duty, she put her hands together and clapped as well, though her mind wasn’t on the show at all. Her mind was on Lawrence, and how he was now flaunting his single status in front of her.
Several moments passed and she glanced over her shoulder and saw that Lawrence, Shemar and the two women had taken seats at the far back of the small seating area. He was sipping some sort of green cocktail concoction in a tall glass.
Melanie couldn’t help scoffing. “Since when did Lawrence drink froufrou drinks?” she asked.
Richelle placed a hand on her arm, and Melanie faced her. “Mel,
