I scan the space for the exit and spot a man holding a sign with “Stone” printed on it. Nodding in recognition, I approach the gentleman.
“Mr. Stone?”
“That’s me.”
“Right this way, sir. I’ll take your luggage.”
Passing off the suitcase, I follow him out into the bright sunlight. The upside to an overnight flight is arriving midday when the sun is high in the sky. The ocean breeze is welcome as we make our way to the waiting town car. Sliding into the back seat, I instinctively reach for my phone but remember it is powered off. I’m leaving it that way. I will enjoy the down time and my first real vacation.
Instead, I open the window and take in the scenery before me, willing my mind and body to calm and embrace the next few days of relaxation. Celebration of a friend and his future. It isn’t a long drive to the resort and when we arrive I’m pleasantly surprised to see the hotel resembles a large southern estate more than a traditional hotel.
Again, nobody seems to give me a second look as I check in. The staff is polite but also unfazed by my presence and for the first time in a long time, I feel like my old self not the actor Hunter Stone. Following the bell captain to my room, I realize I am still wearing my sunglasses. Well if that doesn’t scream “douchebag” I don’t know what does. Sunglasses indoors. Way to be a stereotype, Hunter.
Stepping into the room, I’m taken aback by its opulence. Two rooms separated by a pair of French doors, the bright white furniture and blue walls feel like the space is actually an extension of the outdoors more than anything.
“Your private veranda is just there, sir. I believe the wedding party has provided an itinerary with your welcome basket.”
Turning my attention to the kind man, I smile and reach for my wallet pulling a twenty out and placing it in his palm. Nodding, he thanks me and exits the room. With a deep inhale and exhale, exhaustion takes over once again.
Moving to the large basket of snacks and champagne, I lift the card clearly setting out the itinerary of the weekend. I’ve already missed the welcome brunch and water sports are in full effect according to this schedule. Tonight is a cocktail hour and dinner for all guests before an “early to bed” note since tomorrow is the wedding day. Looking at the time, I note I have just about three hours until the cocktail portion of the evening begins.
Just enough time for a nap and a shower. I walk over to the French doors leading to the private veranda the man pointed out. The view is breathtaking. White sandy beaches as far as the eye can see with that pristine water I saw from the plane stretched out in front of me.
The energy I’ve held onto slowly dissipates and I turn toward the bedroom, stripping off my clothes as I go. Once I’m in only my boxer briefs, I slip between the covers and realize I should set an alarm. That would involve turning my phone on. Instead, I reach for the phone on the side table and call the front desk for a wakeup call.
It isn’t long before the crashing waves lull me to a much needed sleep.
• • •
As I lift the tumbler of amber liquid to my lips, I scan the party. A few faces I recognize from work—mostly photographers and models. I met Matthew on a photo shoot, so it’s expected to see industry people here but what I notice most of all is that everyone appears to be well acquainted. Their body language is relaxed and intimate like they are all family and close friends. Here I stand, the lone wolf. An awkward lone wolf because I haven’t moved from this bar since I arrived.
The nap earlier was exactly what I needed but it was also only a drop in the bucket for the amount of rest I need. I’m burning the candle at more than one end if that’s even possible. A hand grips my shoulder, pulling my attention from people watching.
“Hey man, good to see you. Thanks for coming.”
My lips lift to a real smile as I turn to face the groom. Standing beside him is a beautiful woman in a floor length blue dress. Her smile is wide and her eyes full of happiness.
“You must be Carrie. It’s nice to finally meet you.