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Chapter Two

A t eight in the morning, the pool was mostly empty with only a few parents occupying lounge chairs while watching their kids splashing in the shallow end. William and I sat in the Triton bar outdoor area, having a carb-loaded breakfast—calories didn’t count on vacation—and avoiding any mention of last night. We had done enough talking yesterday while we packed. William had presented me with his ridiculous, romanticized ideas about Dr. Andrew Jones and me. To the point that he had already married me to the man just so I wouldn’t have to change any of my legal documents because our last names were the same.

Most people didn’t think we were siblings. We were both tall, but William had hazel eyes, sandy brown hair with professional highlights, and a bowlike mouth, and I was green-eyed with chestnut hair and had a mouth that was often compared to Julia Roberts. Or a horse. I preferred the former. But the main difference between William and me was that he fell in love easily, just like our mother. An army of people did not have enough fingers to count how many lovers our mother had had, and the same went for William. Whereas I didn’t care to fall in love at all. Been there once. Done that. No more, thank you.

“Hot professor alert.” William wiped his mouth.

I looked over my shoulder. Dressed in a light-blue button-up shirt and oat-colored chinos, Andrew strode past the lifeguard, greeting the young man with a nod. The top two buttons of Andrew’s shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. Keeping my face blank, I did a one-shoulder shrug. I’d never admit this out loud, especially to William—because I’d never hear the end of it—but, my god, Dr. Jones was hot. My stomach fluttered, and I ignored it.

Andrew approached a petite blond woman wearing an enormous sun hat and oversized sunglasses, who was reading a book. A girl about six years old with dark curly hair in a ponytail emerged from the pool and ran up to him. Was that his family? His wife was pretty and slim, sporting a sexy white one-piece swimsuit. Andrew crouched next to the child and listened intently to whatever she babbled about while showing him her mermaid doll.

I felt the familiar ache of sorrow in the pit of my stomach. “Would you recognize our dad if you saw him today?” I asked, without taking my eyes off the young family.

“Probably not. Mom trashed all his pictures.”

“How could a grown man leave two kids with the words ‘Well, I’ll just run out to get some smokes. You kids want anything?’” I picked up my newly refreshed coffee and took a slow sip. The bitter taste jolted me. Yuck . I stirred in a spoonful of sugar and added a splash of cream.

“Twenty-five years later, I’m still waiting for my M&Ms,” William said.

“I’m not sure if I’m mad at him for leaving us or for leaving us with Mom.”

“Why are you thinking about him now?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. I turned and surveyed Andrew and his daughter having an animated conversation, him holding the doll, no doubt saying something about mermaid treasures hidden at the bottom of an ocean. I bet he told amazing bedtime stories. “Sometimes I wonder… if our father had never left, would our life be any different?”

“Probably not.”

Not able to resist, I glanced over my shoulder again. The little girl hugged Andrew, and he closed his eyes, wrapping his strong arms around her tiny body, not caring that her wet swimsuit soaked his shirt. He held her for scads of heartbeats before he pressed a sweet, long kiss to her head and then rose to his feet. She waved to him as she speed-walked to the deeper end of the pool and cannonballed into it. Andrew continued to chat with his attractive wife. Did she mind him going on a trip with another woman?

Last night I hadn’t noticed whether Andrew wore a wedding band, but a man didn’t have to wear a solid circle of gold to be a good husband and father. When Andrew and the woman finished talking, she reached out her hands to him, and he leaned into her.

I averted my eyes and shifted in my seat, not wanting to see them kiss. I shouldn’t have been watching him and his family. I shook my head, trying to shrug off a strange feeling of disappointment. Why was I upset? Envy for not growing up in a family like his? Or was it guilt because I didn’t want to have a family, fearing that I’d inevitably become like my mother?

“Why are you shaking your head?” William asked, his eyes glued behind me, no doubt watching the handsome couple.

“It’s nothing.”

William gave me his I don’t believe you look.

“Are you done? We promised to meet him at the front of the hotel”—I checked my watch—“in ten minutes.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your look.” William smiled his Cheshire cat smile.

Dropping the linen napkin beside my plate, I rose and picked up my canvas tote bag. “Oh, wipe that stupid smile off your face. You noticed nothing.”

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, we walked out of the hotel’s main entrance. Behind us, a bellboy pushed a luggage cart overstuffed with designer suitcases. Leaning against the trunk of a taxi, Andrew waited for us, his arms folded over his chest. As we approached him, he took off his sunglasses and watched us wide-eyed.

“That’s not all yours?” Andrew asked.

I stopped next to him, my small, blue and white polka dot Tumi suitcase by my side. Andrew said he would need us in Colombia for two days, so I chose minimum make-up, one extra pair of shoes, two pairs of panties, and two dresses. I only ever packed dresses for a beach getaway, in different sizes. Smaller and fitted for the beginning of vacation, and larger and more forgiving towards the end in anticipation of overeating and drinking.

“ This is mine.” I tapped my heel on my carry-on bag. “ Those are William’s.”

“We’re only going for one night.” Andrew’s surprised expression was adorable.

“You should have seen how much luggage he brought when we went on a two-week Mediterranean cruise. The ship barely stayed afloat.”

“Reporting for duty,” William chirped as he joined us by the car.

“You can’t take all that.” Andrew pointed at the cart. “The plane we’re taking barely has enough space for us. Pack only what is necessary for today and tomorrow.”

“It’s all necessary,” William said. “I can’t go without any of it.”

“Then you have to stay behind.” Andrew placed his sunglasses back on his face and turned to me. “Are you ready?”

“I’m not going without him.” I planted my fists on my hips.

Andrew groaned. “William, please pick only two bags.” He slid into the front passenger seat. “Two small bags.”

* * *

An hour later, smothered by heat and the reek of burnt jet fuel, three of us—and four of William’s suitcases—stood on the tarmac in front of something that couldn’t possibly have been considered a plane. The twin-propeller, six-seater aircraft resembled a mechanical Frankenstein pieced together with parts probably found at an airplane graveyard, the weathered paint struggling to do its chore to cover up the assembly job.

flab·ber·gasted | ?flab?r?ɡast?d |

ADJECTIVE: My current state with my mouth agape, rooted to the spot.

ORIGIN: Right now, in front of our next ride.

“What’s that?” William dabbed his forehead with a Kleenex.

“The finest plane I could find on short notice,” Andrew answered, his voice lacking its earlier confidence.

William scoffed. “I’d hate to see the worst.”

I faced Andrew and pulled off my sunglasses. “We’re flying in that to Colombia?”

“Apparently so.” Andrew’s expression held equal halves of shock and terror.

I wasn’t sure if I was happy or petrified that he was just as surprised as I was.

“I thought you were super rich or something,” William said.

I wasn’t a woman with high expectations, and any luxury I had in my life had been earned by hard work. By me. But if I had to be honest—and I wouldn’t ever admit it out loud—since it seemed Dr. Andrew Jones had no issues throwing big wads of cash at us, I was expecting a private jet, a nice one, like the ones I saw in movies or on Instagram.

Under the false pretenses of a usable plane, this tin can probably had engines held together with duct tape. A short, tubby, middle-aged man with triple thick glasses on his nose, walked up to the plane. Dear god, please don’t let that be our pilot. But my prayer went unanswered as the man opened the door and climbed into the front seat.

I shook my head slightly, then more vigorously. “No. No. No.”

No way we were getting in that.

“Deal’s off.” I grabbed William’s arm and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Andrew asked.

I swirled around. “Back to the resort.”

“We have an agreement. You promised to go.”

“And you promised a plane. This piece of junk is an impostor. Are you honestly expecting me or my brother to get in that thing? It should be sold for scrap.”

“Yes. I agree it’s not the nicest, but it works. Besides, we had a deal. I paid you.” Andrew’s large eyes seemed to double. “You can’t back out now.”

Who the hell did he think he was? Anger oozed out of my pores, mixing with my sweat.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you think you can just buy me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not buying you,” Andrew said, his ever-present, infuriating smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes swirled with fury.

“You did offer money for her company,” William chimed in. “It’s like Indecent Proposal .”

I glared at William. “It is not at all like that movie.”

William bit his bottom lip and nodded. “True. Robert Redford paid a million dollars.”

I rolled my eyes, then returned my focus to Andrew. I wasn’t angry with him. I was pissed at myself for harboring a small hope of saving my store.

“Dr. Jones.” I took a calming breath. “I’ll wire your money back to you, but we aren’t going unless you provide something not piloted by Skipper, Kowalski, Rico, and Private.”

“Who?” William would look confused, but his eyebrows didn’t move due to Botox.

“Penguins,” I said.

“Adriana, you’re making a bigger deal of this than it is,” Andrew said.

“What penguins?” William still didn’t understand.

“ Madagascar ,” Andrew and I parroted.

At that, I smiled. I was impressed he knew right off the bat which cartoon I meant. I adored Madagascar and had seen it a hundred times. Andrew had probably watched it with his daughter, whereas I’d enjoyed it alone, with a glass—fine, a bottle—of wine.

“Look.” Andrew wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “I wouldn’t have to deal with you if you hadn’t put on a bloody bracelet that wasn’t meant for you.”

“It was sent to my room with my name on it.”

“For the tenth time, it was my name, not yours,” Andrew said in a controlled voice, but his face seethed.

“Yours. Mine. Whatever. It was delivered to me!” I spun and pulled on William’s shirt sleeve.

William and I marched several yards toward parked taxis outside the fenced-in area before Andrew ran around us and raised his palms.

“Don’t make me beg. If you think something is wrong with that…”—Andrew waved his hands toward the scrap of metal behind him and pushed a word out of his mouth with difficulty—“plane, then we won’t take William. For his safety. And ours.” He exhaled. “God only knows, the weight of his luggage might plunge us from the sky.”

A smile tugged at my lips again, but I pressed them together.

“I’m sorry, but my answer is no. That thing…” I turned for another look at the aluminum death trap. Nope. “That thing shouldn’t be allowed to fly.”

Andrew’s head sagged, and so did his broad shoulders as we made our way around his tall figure. I understood the project was important to him, just like my store was to me, and he was enthusiastic about the possibility of discovering some great treasure, but I couldn’t risk my life or William’s. The best thing to do was to wire back the money I’d received this morning, return to the resort, enjoy our vacation, and then go back to my messed-up world so I could get my life together. To my?—

“Fifty thousand dollars.” Andrew stopped my thoughts in their tracks.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That was a lot of money just for one night of my company. Wait. That didn’t sound right. For two days of my help. That wasn’t right either. I wasn’t helping Andrew. On the contrary, I was a hindrance to his work. Either way, I wished I had more time to think about it. Could I run my business without a partner? Was it possible to figure out the interior design by myself, be my own marketing team, and even get an initial inventory on credit? No. This new offer wasn’t sufficient to remodel the space. But it guaranteed enough time to look for a business partner or investor. This offer was intoxicating.

I scrutinized the plane one more time. If I closed one eye—or better, both of my eyes—it didn’t look that bad. If it managed not to lose any vital parts in mid-flight, and we safely landed in Colombia, we could find a better plane to return on.

“How long is the flight?” I asked.

“Two and a half hours.”

I shut my eyes. “Dadgummit.”