Page 52

She moved to the terrace doors, pushing them open to let in the night breeze. The sound of waves filled the room, along with the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine from the gardens below. How hadn't she noticed these details when she'd first arrived?

Her phone chimed from her pocket—Ashley again, undoubtedly still waiting for responses to her increasingly urgent messages. With a sigh, Serena pulled it out, prepared to dive back into the Walter situation.

Instead, she found herself opening her photo gallery, scrolling to pictures she'd taken during her snorkeling adventure with Lila.

She hadn't even realized she'd captured these moments: the turquoise water, colorful fish darting among coral formations, and one slightly blurry shot of Lila underwater, hair floating around her face like a golden halo, her smile visible even through the snorkel mask.

Serena's chest tightened at the image. Had that really been just days ago? It felt simultaneously like yesterday and a lifetime past.

Back then, she'd been allowing herself to explore whatever was growing between them, following Lila's lead into experiences she would never have chosen on her own, including being seen, really seen, by someone who valued the woman beneath her title.

And how had she repaid that gift? By withdrawing completely at the first hint of deeper feelings. By hiding behind work and walls. By pretending their connection was nothing more than a convenient vacation distraction.

"Idiot," she muttered to herself, setting the phone down with more force than necessary.

Her laptop screen glowed from the table, the half-finished email to the board still waiting for completion.

The Walter situation remained unresolved.

The corporate fires still needed tending.

For a moment, she stood at the crossroads between her usual path—diving back into work, letting it consume her completely—and something new and frightening and undefined.

Five days. The countdown ticked in her mind, each second bringing her closer to departure.

Serena's gaze landed on the driftwood Lila had brought her that last evening, still sitting on the side table where she'd placed it.

She picked it up, running her fingers over the smooth surface shaped by years of ocean currents.

Nature's patient artistry, revealing the beauty hidden within what most would dismiss as beach debris.

Was that what Lila had been doing with her? Gradually revealing what lay beneath the barriers Serena had built over decades?

The thought both terrified and exhilarated her.

Her phone chimed again—another email notification. Serena glanced down, expecting more corporate drama. Instead, she found a message from resort services with the subject line "Dining Delivery Confirmation."

She frowned, opening it automatically. She hadn't ordered dinner.

Ms. Frost,

Your special order has been prepared as requested and will be delivered to Ms. Skye's cottage at 8:00 p.m. Our chef has incorporated all local specialties as discussed.

Silver Resorts Dining Services

Serena stared at the message, confusion turning to understanding. This was the dinner she'd arranged for Lila, days ago during that brief window of openness when she'd wanted to create something special for her. She'd forgotten completely in the aftermath of their morning confrontation.

A glance at her watch showed 7:42 p.m.

Without conscious decision, she was moving, closing her laptop, setting aside reports, and leaving behind the digital tethers to New York.

Serena ran a hand through her hair, suddenly aware of her rumpled appearance after hours of wandering the island.

No time to change since the dinner would arrive at Lila's cottage in eighteen minutes.

What was she doing? Rushing off to intercept a dinner delivery like some romantic comedy heroine? This wasn't like her at all.

And yet her feet carried her toward the door, grabbing her key card on the way. If nothing else, she needed to explain to the staff that the dinner should be canceled, that things had changed, that?—

That she'd gotten scared and pushed away the one person who'd made her feel more alive than she had in years.

Outside, the night air wrapped around her, warm and fragrant. The path to the staff quarters was marked by subtle lighting embedded in stone—enough to guide the way without disrupting the blanket of stars overhead. Serena moved quickly, her mind racing ahead.

What would she say if she actually got there before the dinner? What could she possibly offer that would undo the hurt she'd caused? Would Lila even open her door?

She had no answers, no strategic plan, no carefully crafted speech. For perhaps the first time in her adult life, Serena was operating purely on instinct, heart leading while mind scrambled to keep up.

The lights of the staff cottages appeared through the trees, warm squares of yellow against the tropical night. Somewhere among them was Lila's home—the cottage Serena had visited only once, where they'd shared a meal and conversations that went deeper than she'd allowed herself in years.

Serena slowed, suddenly uncertain. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should turn back, let the dinner be delivered with an impersonal note from the kitchen, and not force her presence where it clearly wasn't wanted.

A staff member appeared around the bend, pushing a cart laden with covered dishes, heading directly toward the cottages. The dinner service, right on time.

Decision time. Turn back to her villa, to work and walls and the safe isolation she'd perfected over decades. Or move forward into uncharted territory, without guarantees or control or carefully calculated outcomes.

For once, her brilliantly strategic mind had no perfect solution or clear path forward.

Only a choice, right here, right now.

Serena watched the server with the food cart for a moment, her heart pounding as indecision gripped her. This wasn't a business deal with clearly defined parameters. This was messy, unpredictable emotion—exactly what she'd spent decades avoiding.

But standing there in the warm tropical night, watching the dinner she'd ordered slipping away toward Lila's cottage, something shifted inside her. For once, the calculating voice in her head fell silent, replaced by a simpler, clearer thought: she didn't want to lose Lila.

Not without trying. Not without being honest about what she was feeling.

"Excuse me," she called, hurrying toward the server with the food cart. "That dinner. Is it for Lila Skye?"

The young man turned, recognition flashing in his eyes as he spotted her. "Yes, Ms. Frost. Your special order for Ms. Skye's cottage."

"I'll take it from here," she said, summoning the authoritative tone that typically brooked no argument.

He hesitated, clearly torn between resort protocol and the commanding presence of a VIP guest. "I'm not sure if that's?—"

"Please," Serena added, the word unfamiliar on her tongue in this context. "It's important."

Something in her expression must have convinced him. With a slight nod, he stepped aside. "Her cottage is the third one down that path. The blue door."

"Thank you." Serena took hold of the cart, momentarily wondering what the resort gossip mill would make of her personally delivering dinner to a staff member. At this point, she couldn't bring herself to care.

The path to Lila's cottage wound beneath flowering trees strung with tiny lights, creating a canopy of artificial stars to complement the real ones overhead.

As she approached the blue door, Serena felt her usual confidence faltering.

What exactly was her plan here? Push a dinner cart through the door and announce. .. what?

Too late for second thoughts. She was standing on Lila's small porch, the warm glow from inside spilling through gauzy curtains. Taking a breath that did nothing to steady her racing heart, Serena knocked.

Silence stretched for a long moment. Had Lila seen her through the window and decided not to answer? Was she even home? Serena hadn't considered these very basic questions in her impulsive rush from the villa.

Finally, the door opened. Lila stood in the threshold, her expression shifting from neutral to surprised as she registered her visitor.

She wore a simple sundress, her honey-blonde hair loose around her shoulders, looking both beautiful and guarded in a way that made something twist in Serena's chest.

"Serena," she said, her voice carefully even.

"Hi." The word felt absurdly inadequate. Serena gestured awkwardly to the cart. "Dinner. I ordered it... before. For you. For us." She winced at her own fractured sentences.

Lila's eyes moved from Serena to the covered dishes, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "I see."

"I forgot I'd arranged it," Serena continued, words tumbling out now.

"With everything that happened this morning.

.. but then I got the confirmation email, and I thought.

.. I don't know what I thought, actually.

That maybe you'd still want to have dinner.

With me. Or at least not waste the food. But I understand if you don't want?—"

"Serena," Lila interrupted gently. "You're rambling."

"Yes." She took another breath, forcing herself to slow down. "I am. That's... new for me."

A ghost of a smile touched Lila's lips, though her eyes remained cautious. "I've noticed."

They stood in silence for a moment, the night sounds of the island filling the space between them. Serena had negotiated billion-dollar deals with less anxiety than she felt on this small porch, waiting for Lila to decide whether to send her away.

"Would you like to come in?" Lila asked finally, stepping back from the doorway. "The food shouldn't go to waste."

It wasn't forgiveness or even warmth, but it was an opening. Serena nodded, carefully maneuvering the cart through the door.

Lila's cottage looked much as Serena remembered from her previous visit—smaller than the guest villas but infinitely more personal.

Books stacked on bamboo shelves, treasures collected from the island arranged on windowsills, photographs and mementos that spoke of a life fully lived and appreciated.

The space felt authentic in a way Serena's Manhattan penthouse never had.

"We can eat on the porch," Lila suggested, gesturing to her small outdoor dining area. "It's cooler out there."

They moved in awkward tandem, transferring covered dishes to the table, arranging silverware, pouring water from a pitcher decorated with painted hibiscus blooms. When they finally sat across from each other, Serena found herself at a loss.

All her carefully constructed speeches had evaporated, leaving only raw truth hovering on her tongue.

"I received your reassignment request," she said finally.

Lila nodded, her expression neutral as she unfolded her napkin. "I thought it would be best. Professionally speaking."

"You were right to request it," Serena acknowledged, surprising herself with the admission. "I behaved... poorly this morning."

"You were being cautious," Lila replied, her tone giving away nothing. "Protecting yourself."

"No," Serena shook her head. "I was being a coward. And I hurt you. That wasn't my intention."

Lila looked up then, really looked at her, those perceptive eyes seeing more than Serena was comfortable revealing. "What was your intention, Serena?"

Serena set down her fork, food forgotten as she searched for words that had never come easily to her. "I wanted to control the inevitable pain. To manage it on my terms rather than let it happen to me later."

"By inflicting it on both of us sooner," Lila observed without heat.

"Yes." Serena's throat tightened unexpectedly. "It seemed... efficient at the time."

A smile ghosted across Lila's face, genuine if fleeting. "You would think in terms of emotional efficiency."

"It's how I've always operated." Serena's fingers traced the edge of the table, finding comfort in the tangible texture of wood grain. "Analyzing cost-benefit ratios, minimizing vulnerabilities, optimizing outcomes."

"And how's that working out for you?" Lila asked, the question gentler than the words themselves might suggest.

Serena met her gaze directly. "Terribly," she admitted. "I've never felt more... off-balance than I have since I met you. And this morning, when I tried to regain control by pushing you away..."

"You felt worse," Lila finished for her.

"Much worse." The simple truth hung between them, more revealing than any elaborate explanation could have been.

Lila was quiet, considering. When she spoke, her voice held no accusation, just a question. "What do you want now, Serena? Why are you here?"

It was the question Serena had been asking herself since intercepting the dinner cart. Why had she come? What did she hope to accomplish? What could she possibly offer that would make any difference with only five days remaining?

"I want..." She paused, discarding rehearsed phrases. "I want to stop wasting the time we have left. However limited it is."

The simple truth hung between them in the warm night air, vulnerable and real in a way Serena rarely allowed herself to be. She held Lila's gaze, letting her see everything—the uncertainty, the fear, the hope she barely dared acknowledge.

"Five days isn't much," Lila said softly.

"No," Serena agreed. "It isn't. But I'm starting to think Maika was right. Knowing something will end doesn't make it less valuable while it exists."

Lila's eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across her features. "You talked to Maika?"

"He found me in the garden," Serena explained. "Or I found him. Either way, he helped me see things differently."

"And what did you see?"

The question was weighted with meaning beyond its simple words. Serena could feel the moment balanced on a knife's edge—her answer potentially changing everything or nothing.

"That I've spent my entire life planning for future success while missing present joy," she said, the words surfacing from some place deeper than conscious thought. "And I don't want to miss these last five days with you, whatever they might become."