“Peter, if you don’t come home, he’s going to die and you’re going to wonder why you weren’t there and I’ll be the one to say I told you so. Do you hear me?”
I hung up the phone.
That might very well be what ended up happening. I’d already played that scenario out in my head a hundred times over. But it didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t be in LA right then. I needed a break, and for the first time in three years, I was beginning to feel like myself again.
I could chalk it up to the vibrant colors all around me on the island or the clean tropical air or the clean food. None of that was responsible.
The responsible party was, without a shadow of a doubt, the honeymoon coordinator at the El Cartana.
Chapter 12
Katie
“Hold it still, Roman,” Ginny scolded.
Roman sat tucked up in the opposite corner of the back seat of the cab from me. He rolled his eyes dramatically as he held up a compact mirror for Ginny, who was applying her lipstick. It was a bright ruby-red shade and it looked hot as hell on her with her red hair, fair skin, and face full of freckles. She rubbed her lips together, nodded in satisfaction, and snatched the mirror out of his hand.
“You’re welcome,” Roman said.
She squeezed his thigh. “Thanks, boo.”
“Ow.” Roman massaged his leg where she’d vise-gripped him. “You don’t know your own strength, woman. Good lord. I’d hate to be the man who you went down on you and—”
I cleared my throat and nodded pointedly at the cab driver in the front seat.
Roman gave me a sheepish smile but kept his mouth shut, sparing me the humiliation of him talking about blowjobs and handjobs in the back seat while we rode into town.
I needed a night out. I’d all but lost track of how many consecutive days I’d worked. Ginny estimated it was somewhere between sixteen and twenty, while Roman steadfastly insisted it was nineteen.
Either way, it was too many.
I had a late start tomorrow, not the day off, but then two more days after that, I’d be hopping on a plane and flying to New York City for Jackson and Hailey’s baby shower. I doubted that would feel like much of a vacation. Visits home amongst friends and family were always packed full of commitments rather than restful relaxation time.
I’d have to find room for that when I got back to the island somehow.
That was a problem for another night.
Tonight, I had one goal. To dance.
There was no better way to unwind and let loose than with good music and a couple of drinks. I needed this more than ever, and my friends had rallied together this evening to make it happen. We started with a full meal of room service in my suite to make sure we had full and happy bellies, and immediately afterward, we broke into bottles of champagne because apparently that was the kind of suffering I was signing up for tonight.
I already had a pleasant buzz that we kept going by passing Roman’s small flask full of vodka back and forth amongst each other in the back seat. It wasn’t classy by any means, but it got us where we needed to be by the time the cab driver pulled over and dropped us off. Ginny covered the ride, and the three of us linked arms as we stood in front of the most popular bar in town, Skip’s.
In the beginning, it hadn’t been a place for nightlife. Rather, it was a low key, simple place run by a local man and his daughter. When he passed away in his early eighties, the daughter turned it into a livelier place with loud music, better drink specials, and live entertainment.
Skip’s was now a destination for plenty of travelers and locals alike. There was always something going on, something to see, something to drink, and something to do.
It was exactly what the doctor ordered.
My best friends and I strode up the walkway to the restaurant, where we flashed our IDs to the bouncer, who didn’t even bother to look. He knew us all fairly well, and Ginny had been crushing on him for ages—probably close to a year now.
He was a local on the island and had been a professional surfer in his youth. He still surfed during the day and worked at Skip’s in the evening. His