It was meant as a joke, one she’d made regularly when they lived together, but the whole energy in the room instantly shifted. Samantha cleared her throat, knowing her friend had no idea what had happened, and grabbed a copy of the Wall Street Journal from the shelf. “We broke up,” she said softly, hoping the nonchalance in her voice carried to her best friend, but as soon as the words exited her lips, Renee removed the cucumbers from her eyes.
“What?” Renee whispered. “When?”
Samantha closed the magazine and turned to face her. “On the trip. Two days ago.” She took a breath, trying to calm her nerves. “You were right. He put everything above me and I was sick of it. When he called to tell me he couldn’t make it to the wedding, that was the end for me.”
Renee frowned, sending bits of green mask to fall to her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
She shrugged. “Don’t be. I should have done it a long time ago…like you said.”
A tear slipped down Renee’s cheek, leaving a streak of flesh visible through the thin mask.
Samantha sat forward and grabbed hold of Renee’s hands. “I thought you’d be happy. I thought—”
“I’m pissed, Sam. So angry he’s treated you like this again.”
Samantha nodded, her chin slightly quivering, because it was obvious how much Renee loved her, how ferociously she cared about her.
“This trip has taught me a lot about myself.” She began. “One being that Steven and I were never meant for each other. I don’t think even as kids, but especially not now.”
Renee nodded, as though she’d known this fact a long time. “How did you do it? What did you say?”
Samantha winced. “I did it by text. I know it wasn’t ideal, but he was always too busy to talk. I knew he’d at least check his messages.”
Renee raised her eyebrows. “How did he respond?”
“I don’t know. My phone got wet. I have no idea.”
Renee laughed, then turned in her seat and looked at Samantha through the mirror. “Serves him right. Though honestly, I’m surprised he let you go that easily. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried calling me to get to you.”
Samantha sighed. “I guess he’s resigned to it being over. He’s focused on his career, and I’m honestly relieved about that. It will make things easier when I get home.” She nodded for emphasis, then turned in her seat to continue reading. But a large burly man came to stand behind her at that moment.
“You must be Samantha,” he said in a deep, husky voice.
She nodded, then glanced over at Renee with eyes as wide as saucers.
Renee giggled. “Tom, this is my best friend Sam. She just broke up with her boyfriend, and needs the hottest haircut within your ability.”
Tom smiled, instantly transforming his face into something reminiscent of a teddy bear. “You got it, Nay,” he said. Tom lowered Samantha’s seat, indicating she should follow him, and gestured for her to sit down at the shampoo bowl.
“Lie back,” Tom said. He then guided her neck down into sink, where he began delicately removing her braids. He then wet her scalp, sending the perfect temperature water over her head, and proceeded to wash her hair—with the strongest, most skilled fingers she’d ever felt in her life. Almost.
Samantha’s hotel room turned out to be a mere two doors down from Renee’s. Two.
Convenient for borrowing deodorant, but not so convenient if she wanted to sneak a certain someone into her room in the middle of the day. It wasn’t that she wasn’t having fun either, because spending time with her best friend was exactly where she wanted to be. She craved their interaction, their easy friendship that allowed them to speak freely, or be perfectly silent without any awkwardness at all.
At one point during their appointment, Renee was telling her about her and Phin’s first date, and Samantha thought she might cry, she was laughing so hard. Or at another time, when Renee told her again the story of how he proposed, Samantha thought she might cry, but this time because it was utter sweetness.
And then, they had a long talk about Steven, and about how Samantha feared she’d stayed with him for so long for all the wrong reasons. Because she was scared of hurting people, of saying no. Scared of rejections, and of failure. In the end, they had a big ol’ cry fest about how much they missed each other, and made promises to visit each other whenever they could, no matter where they lived or how difficult life became.
But now, she was alone in her room, which left plenty of time to think about Tristan. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact he’d become the forbidden fruit, or if it was something else, but all her hormones were bursting. Having him at her will for two days had ruined her for life. Already, all she could think about was kissing him, touching him, and him touching her. She dangled her feet off the side of the bed and let out a deep sigh.
She’d tried to take a nap as Renee was doing, but every time she closed her eyes, memories of Tristan’s lovemaking played through her mind, making her feel…anything but rested.
Deciding to give up on sleep, she fetched her purse from the top of her dresser, and carried her toiletries and makeup to the bathroom. She arranged everything on the countertops meticulously, then hitched her leg up on a chair and began shaving her legs, taking ten times as long as she normally would for such a tedious task. But still, hours remained until she needed to be ready for the party. She turned around to rest her bottom on the counter and looked at the tub.
It had been years since she’d soaked in a bath. Years since she’d had one available. She pushed herself to stand from the pristine white counter and walked over to run her fingers along the cool porcelain edge. Her apartment back in LA didn’t have a bathtub, and the idea of soaking her muscles sounded heavenly. She turned on the faucet and let the tub fill halfway with water before adding a scoop of bath crystals that were graciously provided on a silver bath tray.
Fragrant lavender and lemon filled the bathroom, and on impulse, she fetched her bag off the counter and pulled out her phone to send a message to Tristan.
Mona: Are you alone?
It was a simple message, well meaning and straight to the point… And not five seconds later, her phone rang and she slid open the call.
“Where are you?” he asked with a husky flirtation.
She sat on the edge of the bathtub, smiling as she tested the temperature with her fingers. “My room.”
“That’s a shame, you should be in mine.”
She grinned, letting her bath robe slip down her shoulders then fall softly to the floor. “I’m about to get in the bath,” she said. Tingles traveled down her body simply from the admission. She felt naughty, sexy, and she wished she could see his face.
“Where’s your room?” he asked then. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”
She only smiled and put one foot in the water. “You can’t. Renee’s room is just across the hall. It’s too risky.”
He groaned. “I like risks.”
She laughed and lowered her body farther. “Well I don’t, and I’m the only one who knows my room number.”
He was quiet a moment, and she could almost see him smiling. “Touché, little one.”
She grinned and leaned back, resting her neck in the built-in pillow. “Little one?” she asked, her nose wrinkling at the pet name.
“It’s only fact.”
She nodded, letting her body relax. “So what did you do today? Anything for the wedding?”
“Eh, this and that. Mostly hung out with Phin and his family. And thought about you in that dress.”
She grinned. “Did you like it?”
“I did.”
“Good,” she said, leaning forward to turn off the water. The bath was completely full at this point, so she tightened the handles, then leaned back in her spot. The water must have made a splashing sound, because the line became incredibly quiet.
“Are you in the bathtub, Samantha?” There was a thread of humor in his voice, but she could hear it going deeper too.
She wrinkled her nose, then bit her finger as a rush of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered.