Page 64 of Strictly the Worst

“The presentation isn’t until nine,” I say. “Why are you dressed?”

“I have to leave.”

His words are like a bucket of cold water on my face. I sit up, holding the sheets to my chest because I feel so damn naked next to him.

“Where are you going? When will you be back? We have the presentation in a few hours?”

“Paris,” he tells me. “The trouble I thought I’d sorted yesterday has escalated. The press has gotten hold of it. Roman needs me to fly in today.”

“But the presentation…” I say again.

He runs his thumb along my jaw. “You’ve got the presentation,” he says. “It was always yours. You can do this, Carmichael. You don’t need me hanging around.”

Yes, actually I do. I do need him. “What time is your flight?”

“Gotta leave in ten minutes.”

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” He must have gotten the call at least an hour ago. He would’ve had to arrange his flights, his transfer, and somebody to drive him to the airport.

“Because one of us should get some sleep.” He leans forward to brush his lips against mine and I’m confused. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

There’s an invisible wall coming up between us. I can feel him building it, brick by brick. And I want to laugh, because I’m the expert at walls. I always thought it would be me ending this.

Not Linc. Not him.

I want to cry. Because despite my misgivings I’ve had the best time here with him. He makes everything come to life, brings it into glorious color. And I realize that for the past couple of years I’ve been living in black and white.

I’ve changed. Even in a few days. Thanks to him.

His phone buzzes. “That’s my car.” He kisses me again. “I’ll call you when I get to Paris.”

“When will you be back in New York?” As soon as the words come out I hate them. I sound so stupidly needy and I hate that. I’m not a needy person.

“I have to fly straight to Vegas after Paris,” he says. “But soon. I’ll call you.”

I nod as his phone buzzes again. He presses his lips to my brow. “You’re beautiful and you’re amazing,” he tells me. “You’ll ace the presentation.”

And just like that he leaves. And I’m laying naked in the bed, the sensation of him being inside of me already feeling like a distant memory.

My head starts to pound. And though it’s only six, I decide to take a shower and spend the morning working on the presentation. I need to adapt the parts Linc was going to take the lead on.

Because he won’t be here.

Less than three hours later I find myself walking to the business suite alone. James Gold and his team are waiting for me in the meeting room, and I shake each of their hands, giving Linc’s apologies, though it appears he’s already messaged James.

And then I open up my PowerPoint slides. I’ve practiced this presentation so many times I know it by heart. The adrenaline helps, pushing me through almost on autopilot. It’s a relief when I hit play on the final video and let it run.

It’s the mock up we’ve made with some influencers. If we get the go-ahead, we’ll fly them into the resort and spend a few days taking social media videos and stills. Better ones than I’ve been able to mock up while we’ve been here. We’ll have traditional media there, too. I have a lot of contacts with travel writers. Liaising with them is part of my job.

The final wording comes up on the screen.

Gold Resort, Grand Exuma. The time is now. And it’s all yours…

I turn to look at Gold and his team. We’re sitting in the main business suite at the resort. It’s light and airy and the air conditioning is caressing my skin, keeping me cool.

There are smiles on their faces and I let out a long breath full of relief. “Do you have any questions?” I ask them, ready to answer whatever they have. And yes, apparently they do, because I end up talking for another twenty minutes before their inquiries run out and the room is silent.

“Well, I think you know we’re impressed,” Gold says. “Coming here was the right thing to do. You’ve really understood the essence of the place. It’s different, right?”

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