Page 104 of Faking it For Summer

“I don’t have an attitude, Luke.” She huffs. “Okay, maybe I have a bit of an attitude, but I just don’t want you waiting aroundfor me. Everyone knows I’m taking photographs this morning anyway, so they will not expect to see us together.”

“Do you want to try to find the clue later this afternoon so we can continue the treasure hunt?”

“Yeah, we can do that.” She turns around and pulls out mangoes, pineapples, oranges, lemons, and apples from the bag, placing them on the table.

“Well, you really had a fruit kick,” I say, picking up an orange.

“I guess so.” She runs her fingers through her hair. Her eyes look sad for a few moments, and then she gazes at the table and starts laughing. “This cost me forty-five dollars.”

“Wowser,” I say, laughing. “We’re not even here that long.”

“I know. So, I guess we have to eat a lot of fruit, or we have to have a party in the hotel room.”

“Is that your way of telling me you want to have an orgy?” I hope my teasing will soften the mood. Jokes have always been a way for us to move on from awkwardness. Most probably not the healthiest way for us to deal with shit, but it works for us. At least it has in the past.

“No. That’s not my way of telling you I want to have an orgy.” Her tone is still quite sharp, but she’s smiling now, and I can tell that she’s coming around.

She can never stay mad at me for long, and that’s one reason why I love her. Even when she’s angry at me, she gets over it pretty quickly.

“Mia, I think when all this is said and done, we should think about making plans to do something fun together that’s got nothing to do with the wedding.” I bring up the subject lightly, so that it doesn’t sound like our entire relationship weighs on her answer.

“Okay, sure,” she says. “If that’s what you want to do.” Her words are easy, and that’s all I need to feel relaxed. We have a lot of shit to talk out, but right now we’re okay.

“I do. I am going to head downstairs,” I say, and I pause as a clause in one of the work contracts comes to mind. I need to have the attorneys check out a statute, and I know that it will be on my mind until I email them.

“What is it?” she says. “Shoot. Tell me what you’re thinking.” She crosses her arms and gives me a knowing look. She knows me far too well.

“I have to make a quick call.” The words trip out of my mouth of their own volition.

There is a subtle disappointment in her eyes, and I don’t know why she looks upset. Does she think I’m going to call Talia or some other woman?

“It’s not like I’m going to be long, Mia. It’s just a quick call about work.” I wait for the understanding to hit her eyes, but she still looks pissed.

“I don’t care. I’ll be taking photos. It’s fine.” She presses her lips together. “Go take your call for work, and I’ll see you down in the restaurant for breakfast.” There’s a coolness that permeates the air, the shift causing a chasm between us that I know can’t close in the time we have available to us right now. Staring at her face makes me think of days when we’d argued, and she’d said she was fine, but gave me the silent treatment. There was something about the silent treatment that felt worse than being shouted at or cursed out. The silent treatment’s like an ache that couldn’t be soothed.

“Okay.” I nod and then walk out of the hotel room. I don’t want to just leave, but I know for both our sakes, I need to.

My footsteps feel leaden as I head to the elevator. There is a somberness that I feel in the air, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because Mia and I are not connecting how we normally do—how our friendship normally is.

We are always light and funny and laughing, and now it’s complex and complicated. I step into the elevator, and I’mgrateful that it’s empty. I really don’t want to run into anyone from the wedding party, especially not Rex or Talia. When the elevator dings and alerts me that I’m in the lobby, I step out and decide to walk outside the hotel to take my phone call.

I call the office and wait for my assistant to update me as I lean back against a large white column. Several couples are waiting near the entrance in matching outfits. One of the women notices that I’m looking, and grins.

“We made the guys wear matching shirts. They didn’t know it was going to happen.”

“That’s cool. You look like you all could be related,” I say.

“We’re just best friends who came to Coconut Beach to relax. It’s amazing; I feel like I want to move here.”

“We can’t afford to move to the island,” the man behind her says. I’m pretty confident that’s her husband or boyfriend. “But it’s just so gorgeous. Imagine being able to watch the beach every day and go to food trucks for delicious food.”

“And then that cool mobile bookstore. I would absolutely die if we had that back home,” she adds.

“My girlfriend owns the bookstore, actually,” I tell them. I’m still on hold, so I don’t mind carrying on the conversation.

“Oh, really? That is so cool. Your girlfriend must be amazing.”

“She really is,” I say.