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We both turn sharply toward the woman talking to us. I don’t know what Effie’s reaction is, but I glare at her in the hope it’ll scare her off so we can finish this weird conversation we’re having. Sadly, it doesn’t work, and the woman moves closer.
“I have you down for full body massages and then facials to start,” she explains, focusing on Effie.
I sense my best friend glance at me curiously. While a massage might be a pretty regular thing in my life these days, a facial…not so much. But hey, when in Rome and all that.
“Sounds great,” Effie says, surging from the jacuzzi and climbing back out as if she’s got the hounds of Hell snapping at her heels.
She has her robe on and is following the therapist toward the door in the blink of an eye.
In a rush, I jump out and fold my own robe over my arm.
“Hey,” I say, quickly catching up to her. “Are you okay?”
She looks up at me with a wide, fake smile on her face.
“Yeah. Everything is great. I’m so excited about this.”
I don’t get a chance to question her. Not that I want to with an audience. Instead, I’m guided to a room and greet my masseuse while Effie is led next door.
It’s no big deal. We can talk later. Maybe she’ll have figured out the words she needs to say by then.
I tell the masseuse not to go easy on me, but holy hell, for a relatively small woman, she really knows what she’s doing. She gives our sports therapist at the facility a run for her money.
By the time I walk out of that room, I feel alive in a way I haven’t for quite a few weeks. Oh, and my face is nice and soft too. Shame I’m the only one who’s going to get to feel it.
Sure, I could go out and hook up here. Without sounding too arrogant, it would be pretty easy. But I’m not here for my dick. I’m here for my best friend, and the last thing she needs is a night out as my wingwoman.
She isn’t back from her treatment when I return to the pool. I’m not surprised; I booked her in for the full works.
I make the most of both the sauna and steam room before retreating back to the jacuzzi with my cell.
Just like earlier in the day, it’s boring alone, but at least I know Effie is being treated like a queen.
After ignoring numerous emails from both my agent and our team publicist, I reply to a few messages from the guys and my brothers, and assure my mom that I’ve arrived safely, and that Effie is okay.
Effie emerges a while later with a shiny face, red eyebrows from where they’ve been waxed, and freshly painted nails on her hands and feet.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Depends on which bit of me you’re referring to. My brows are naked, but my muscles are loose.”
I chuckle. “I mean, shit could be worse.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“I know you want to make the most of this. But…can we go?” she asks.
I frown, not expecting that request to come so soon. But I understand.
“Of course. Meet me out the front in thirty?”
“Twenty,” she states, letting me know just how desperate she is to go and see Grams.
“You got it, Luck.”
I leave her at the entrance to the ladies’ dressing room before making my way to the men’s.
I’m ready in ten and waiting for her on a couch in reception. She isn’t far behind me, and as soon as she emerges, she makes a beeline for the exit.