The Unexpected Honeymoon (13 page)

Since they only had a couple days left, she decided it was better to go with what they had than push a fight. “Sleep well?”

“When you finally let me sleep.”

“Let you sleep? I wasn't the one demanding thirds.” She smacked his shoulder. This, they could do. Banter and light conversation.

“I was simply going the extra mile to keep my guest happy.”

His teasing stung more than it should, largely because, after his confession, Larissa wasn't sure he didn't partially mean what he was saying. The line delineating commitment and casual still existed, and she remained planted firmly on the temporary side.

A voice in her head reminded her she should be fine with the position.
You're not looking for more, remember?

She turned to topics more practical to keep from listening. “Thank you for the jacket. It made for a very comfortable blanket.”

“You mean I wasn't enough?”

Pink crept into her cheeks. “Would you like to come in?” she asked. “You know, to shower before work?”

“Oh,
querida,
if only I could.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, igniting the now familiar shivers. “But I need to return the boat to the boathouse before people on the staff start to wonder what happened.”

Of course, he did. Thank goodness for convenient excuses. Larissa kept her disappointment to herself. At least now she understood his reasons. Maybe after she got some sleep, she wouldn't take the rejection so personally.

“It's just as well,” she replied. “I wanted to head over to the resort to check on preparations for Paul's and Linda's ceremony later this morning anyway.”

“You don't have to do that. I'm sure catering will have everything well in hand.”

“I want to.” She was invested in the couple having the perfect ceremony. “Will I see you there? At the ceremony?”

“I'll be by.”

“Good. Maybe we could steal a dance.” As much as it killed her, she managed a smile as she rose on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for last night. I couldn't ask for a better memory.”

“Larissa, I—” She gasped as he gripped her shoulders. His dark eyes searched her face. He was on the edge, she could feel him struggling to open up. Instead, he kissed her long and hard. When she tasted his desperation, Larissa knew he'd backed away. “I'll see you at the ceremony,” he told her.

She waited in her doorway as he steered the launch back toward the center of the lagoon. After tomorrow, she'd never see Carlos again. She'd leave him and paradise behind. Her heart began to splinter.

Delilah's warning sounded.
Don't let the atmosphere go to your head.
Larissa had a very bad feeling she'd failed to listen.

* * *

It wasn't technically a lie. Carlos did have to return the launch to the boathouse. It simply wasn't the real reason he rushed off. Staring at the sky half the night didn't clear his head. If anything, he seemed to be losing his grip.

Once Larissa was safely in her villa, he pulled away from the dock. He intended to drive straight to the boathouse, but when he reached the center of the lagoon, he suddenly cut the engine, letting the early morning silence envelop him. Perhaps the quiet would settle his thoughts.

Last night was... He didn't know what to call it. A rawness assaulted his body as if he'd been cut open and his insides exposed to the world. Certainly, he didn't expect their lovemaking to feel so intimate. Or for him to share so much of himself. The latter he blamed on the former. Larissa's arms gave him courage and before he could stop, his history with Mirabelle poured out. The exchange left him torn in two, with one half wanting nothing more than to lose himself in Larissa forever while the other screamed to push her away.

Closing his eyes, he saw Larissa's blue gaze. So full of comfort and reassurance. An indefinable longing gripped his soul. The desperate sensation reminded him of the days when he first met Mirabelle. Those heady, infatuated days of new love he swore would never happen again.

Fear squeezed at his chest. They
wouldn't
happen again. They
couldn't
. He'd only fail, and Larissa was far too special for him to hurt.

 

CHAPTER NINE

“W
AIT
! I
SN
'
T
 
IT
supposed to be the red flowers at the top of the altar and purple on the bottom?” The shaman had been very specific about the flowers position. Last thing she wanted to do was give Paul and Linda bad energy because they stuck the tulipanes in the wrong location.

Larissa took out her phone and double-checked the compass app she downloaded earlier. She was right. North was indeed the top of the altar.
Phew.
She smiled at the workers, who she was pretty sure didn't understand a word she said, and switched the flower positions herself. Catering was setting up early to allow the shaman to purify the altar in advance of the ceremony. That way, Paul and Linda wouldn't have any lingering smoke.

She arranged the flowers around the candle, stepped back, then arranged the flowers again. You'd think she was the one getting married, she was being so obsessive with details. Delilah and Chloe would be making Bridezilla comments left and right.

Thing was, she liked wedding details. She liked planning weddings. A lifetime of listening to brides-to-be left their mark because she took pleasure in the nitty-gritty details. Stressing about seating numbers was way more fun than typing media contracts and coordinating sales department meetings. The only fun she had with those was trying to top the previous meeting's snack menu.

Besides, obsessing over these details kept her from fixating on Carlos.

I hate her.
All morning, she replayed the painful declaration. She was pretty sure he didn't truly hate his late wife, even if there was a thin line dividing the emotion from love. The anguish lacing his voice had been too strong. She couldn't begin to imagine what life must have been like for him during those years. Loving a woman so deeply only to see her slip away to depression.

Her eyes began to water. They'd been doing that a lot this morning. Blinking rapidly, she turned away from the workers so they wouldn't notice. If they did, she'd blame the sand. On the other side of the beach, near the pool, she spied a familiar figure talking to one of the assistant managers. If they were in a movie, he'd sense her presence, and their eyes would meet. Being real life, however, Larissa found herself watching while he spoke. Did Carlos have any idea how captivating a figure he made? How much strength he exuded merely by standing still? Larissa smiled. She bet Mirabelle fell in love with him at first sight, as well.

Carlos said something and the other manager smiled. Beamed actually, like he'd paid her the biggest compliment in the world. Who wouldn't? Carlos's attention would make anyone feel special. Damn Mirabelle's demons for letting Carlos think his devotion wasn't enough.

“Did the flower do something to upset you?” Paul Stevas suddenly appeared at her shoulder.

Looking down, Larissa saw she was crushing a tulipane in her fist. “Keeping a firm hand, is all. If you don't show flowers who's boss, they'll run amok,” she told him. Hopefully her cheeks weren't too flushed.

Speaking of flushed, Paul was red and sweaty himself. Back from running the beach, no doubt. “Let me guess, Linda threw you out.”

“She, her mom and my mom were doing some sort of spa thing up in the room,” he replied. “Minute I saw the nail polish, I was out of there.”

“Wise choice. While I'm pretty sure the bad luck before the wedding rule only applies to couples who aren't already married, you're still smart to stay clear of her until she's ready.”

“Believe me, I know. I didn't survive a year of marriage without learning something.”

Larissa laughed. “By the way, Linda showed me a picture of her dress. She's going to look gorgeous.”

“Hope so. I know she won't be happy unless she looks perfect in the pictures. I wish I could get her to realize I don't care what she wears. To me, she'll always look beautiful.” Using the hem of his shirt as a towel, he wiped the sheen in his voice, although with the way his voice cracked at the end of his sentence, he might have well been wiping his eyes. If the day's emotions were getting to him this early, heaven help him when they reached the actual ceremony.

“If Linda's having a spa day, I guess that means she didn't get sick after all. I heard you two took a trip to the emergency room,” she added when Paul looked at her.

“Did she tell you why?”

“Only that she had a little trouble breathing.”

“I was afraid she was having a pleural effusion.”

“A what?”

“Sorry, I forget not everyone lives with medical speak. It's a kind of breathing complication people can get when they have lung cancer.”

“Linda has cancer?” Larissa's stomach dropped. No wonder the poor girl looked so frail.

“Stage four,” Paul said in a soft voice. “Untreatable. We decided to stop treatment and go for quality of life for however long she has left.”

But she was so young. Larissa felt sick. “I'm sorry.” Unable to say anything else, she stared at the crumpled flower.

“Thanks,” Paul replied. “It's been a long couple years. We actually thought we might lose her last year, so she and I got married while she was in the hospital. Linda says she didn't care, but I know she did. She'd always wanted a big fancy wedding, ever since we first talked about getting married.”

Which was why he wanted to pull out all the stops this year. This trip was their last hurrah. Here Carlos thought Paul was a lovesick fool spending himself into debt, when in actuality, he and Linda were creating one last, amazing memory. Larissa's eyes began to water again.

Immediately, Paul was in front of her, fussing and patting imaginary pockets for a tissue. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Sometimes the story pops out before I've had a chance to think.”

“Please, don't apologize,” Larissa told him.
Don't ever apologize for being that much in love.
“I think it's wonderful that the two of you are making up for the missed opportunity.”

“Are you kidding? Linda's my world. I'd do anything for her.”

“I'm sure you would,” Larissa murmured. Paul reminded her of someone else she knew. A man who'd been willing to give his wife the moon if it made her happy. How ironic that the man whose wife had a whole life in front of her didn't appreciate the effort while the woman who didn't...

For the first time in days, Tom popped into her head and all of a sudden, Larissa felt very unworthy.

“My father and father-in-law are waiting on me in the restaurant. I should go meet them,” she heard Paul say. “Is there anything I need to do here?”

She shook her head. “Señor Chavez and his staff have everything under control.”

“It's important everything to be perfect.”

“It will be. Let the resort worry about the details. The only thing you need to worry about is enjoying yourself.”

Funny that she would tell Paul not to stress about details. She who changed wedding venues three times and gave new meaning to the term
wedding obsessed.
Her sense of unworthiness swelled larger. All that time and effort planning the perfect ceremony. Would she have chucked all her plans if Tom—or she—had gotten sick? For that matter, would she have moved heaven and earth to make her partner happy the way Paul did? The way Carlos did?

The answers came back a resounding no on all counts. Tom, it appeared, had been right again. The man was still a jerk for cheating on her, but he also had a point. How many times had he tried to get her to dial back her plans, to talk about something other than the wedding. But as far as she was concerned, it had been all wedding, all the time. She was so happy someone wanted to marry her—that she was going to finally get to be a bride—she didn't stop to think about what was really important.

She really did love the wedding details more than she'd loved him.

Paul and Linda, Delilah and her husband, Simon, even Chloe and her boyfriend Ian—they had real love. You need only look at their faces to see how much they cared for one another. Oh, sure, she'd loved Tom, but never with the bone-deep intensity the others did.

Or the way she felt when she was with Carlos.

Flower petals dropped to the floor. She could not be in love with Carlos. Being drawn to the man did not make her in love, no matter how deeply his story touched her, or how badly she wanted his heart to heal.

No, that was attraction, concern, infatuation. Like Delilah said, it was the atmosphere playing tricks with her emotions. For crying out loud, she'd known the man for a few days. The only people she'd ever heard of falling in love that quickly were Simon and Delilah. And Chloe and Ian.

Carlos and his first wife.

Oh, damn, was she in trouble. She needed to have a good long think and figure out where her mind was truly at.

First, though, she needed to make an international phone call. She owed Tom a very big apology. Then, she would figure out the rest of her feelings.

* * *

The ceremony went off flawlessly. Husband and wife were beaming as they held hands before the floral altar. Their parents offered sacrifices of fruits and vegetables and lit candles to represent each point of the compass. Then the shaman had them proclaim their commitment to one another “...for as long as the commitment lasts.”

As she listened to Linda repeat the shaman's translated vows, Larissa felt a tear slip down her cheek. Weddings always made her cry. At Simon and Delilah's she'd bawled like a baby. This ceremony of two virtual strangers hit her far harder.

Paul and Linda were so brave. The depth of their courage and love amazed her. They didn't need all the bells and whistles to prove they belonged to one another. They simply did.

That, thought Larissa, was what she wanted next time around. Not a big fancy wedding, but a marriage. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. She sniffed back another tear.

There was only one problem: She wasn't sure a second time around would ever happen. A real relationship required two fully committed hearts, and she had the sinking feeling her heart had gone and found a mate that refused to open his.

She stole a look to her right. Carlos's face was as handsome and unreadable as ever as he watched Paul and Linda seal their vows with a kiss. Just once before she left for home, Larissa wished he would look at her with clear, unguarded eyes. A pipe dream, she knew. She'd come close last night, and yet even then, when sharing his darkest secret, Carlos still refused to fully let her in. If he couldn't open his heart at his most vulnerable, what made her think he ever could?

Leave it to her to come on her honeymoon nursing a bruised ego and return home with a worse broken heart than before.

Their vows complete, Paul and Linda turned to the altar where the shaman lit the center candle, the merging of male and female. Maybe it was because she knew Paul and Linda's story, but the moment held a profound solemnity. Looking around, she saw that she wasn't the only one affected. Both sets of parents were openly weeping, as well. The true meaning of what they were all witnessing hung heavy in the air.

When the ceremony ended, she was the one hugging Linda for a change. “I don't know why you were worried about looking bad in the photographs. You look so beautiful,” she told her. It was true. The peasant dress camouflaged her skinniness while someone, her mother, maybe, had taken extra care with her makeup so that she looked radiant and healthy. Her visible happiness helped with the glow, too. “Are you happy with how the ceremony turned out?”

“Are you kidding? Everything turned out better than I could have ever imagined.”

“I'm glad,” Larissa told her. “You deserve a memorable afternoon.” She was trying not to get weepy, but it was difficult.

Apparently she failed, for the young woman met her eyes with a long look that said, “You know, don't you?” The only answer Larissa could give was to squeeze her hands.

Paul slipped up behind his wife to kiss her on the cheek. “Hey, babe, your mom wants to take some group shots in front of the altar.”

“Again? Good Lord, how many shots of the same scenery does she need?” Linda asked. She was smiling, however, as she rolled her eyes. “Will you excuse us?”

“Congratulations,
querida.
Your ceremony was a success.”

She watched Carlos approach, wondering if there'd ever come a time when she didn't marvel at the way he moved. “Not my ceremony,” she told him. “Your catering staff did all the work.”

“Yes, but you provided the inspiration.” He handed her a goblet of golden liquid. Xtabentún. In an oddly prescient moment, she suggested the Mayan liquor yesterday to toast to Paul and Linda's health and happiness. Lord knew the two of them could use all the good vibes they could get.

“Plus,” he continued, “you were down here first thing supervising the arrangements when you could have been home catching up on your sleep.”

“I wasn't that tired.”

“No? Then I must be losing my touch.” His smile was full of wicked promise as he tapped the rim of his glass to hers. “Regardless, I am very impressed. This is exactly the kind of ceremony that made La Joya's reputation. It's traditional, it's memorable—”

“Magical?”

“Exactly,” he replied. “You've definitely raised the bar when it comes to hiring a new wedding coordinator.”

“Too bad I'm only temporary, right?”

The sour tone slipped out before she could stop herself. Too bad. She didn't feel much in the mood for compliments right now. Especially when they both knew how meaningless his comments were.

She raised her glass only to wrinkle her nose at the sweet scent. Between the flowers and the fruit, the air was cloying enough. A tight ball found its way behind her left eye where it throbbed every time she inhaled. She needed fresh air.