Page 18 of Stuck in Paradise with You

He shakes his head and turns his back on me again, this time walking slower, holding his shirt loosely down by his side. He calls back, without shifting his focus from the steps in front of him, ‘Let’s make sure we get through all the business we need to today, then we can go back to living our lives without ever crossing paths.’

‘Happily!’ I shout, wishing I could storm away too, except I have nowhere to go.

‘For the record,’ he shouts, drawing my attention to see him facing me again, now walking backwards as he nears the bottom of the wood staircase, ‘alligators prefer freshwater. You meant crocodile.’

‘Luke, I can honestly say, there’s not a thing in the world I want to learn from you.’

But dammit, if I’m going to run with an insult, I’d like to at least get it right.

‘I hate him, Callum. Truly, truly, unquestionably, unwaveringly, despise him.’

I’m doing laps of my circular pod, wrapped in a towel after showering off the beach, my phone set to speaker on the bed.

I thought a couple of strong coffees and the fancy-pants breakfast with flowers carved from fruit that I was served to my veranda would have taken the edge off the nuclear fission Luke caused in me this morning, but all I did was eat my fructose overdose with needless ferocity.

Now, I have two work outfit options for this meeting hanging on the front of the wardrobe doors and I can’t decide which towear. I don’t want to wear either, and that’s making me even more angry.

I didn’t pack for a one-on-one meeting with Luke Chalmers. I packed for… I don’t know who… Just another client.

‘What am I going to do?’ I ask my best friend, slumping down onto the edge of the bed, rubbing my temples with my fingertips.

‘First, you’re going to take a deep breath, gorgeous. Come on, with me. In… and out… Feel better?’

‘Mmm.’Not really, though I’m grateful for Callum’s effort.

‘Next, you’re going to put on whatever fabulous workwear you’ve packed because you always look right on point for work – sophisticated, authoritative and hot. Then, you’re going to look at yourself in the mirror and say, “Screw him”. You’re not dressing for him; you’re dressing for yourself.’

‘I can do that.’ I stand with an infinitesimal amount more vigor.

With Callum still chatting down the line about a guy he matched with on a dating app yesterday, I select a cream skirt and a sleeveless blouse, which ideally would have a roll-neck instead of a slightly too low V.

Once I’m dressed, I look at my reflection in the mirror and say, ‘Screw you, Luke Chalmers. I’m dressing for myself.’

‘See. One step at a time, babes.’

I nod at myself. ‘What’s next?’

Callum chuckles. ‘Next, you go to your meeting, get your shit done, and come home to Eddie and me.’

With his words – and the thought of my comfiest clothes, a takeout, my own sofa and my favorite people – my body finally relaxes.

‘Can’t wait,’ I tell myself, twisting my hair into a French roll and letting the shorter front ends fall loose.

Only when I’m ready for my meeting and carrying my laptop and relevant papers out of my pod does it occur to me that I don’t actually know where on the island the meeting room is.

Lucky for me, Henry is waiting outside my door.

‘Yikes!’ I yelp, startled by his presence and wondering how long he’s been outside, whether he heard my meltdown on the phone with Callum.

‘Sorry, Carrie, I didn’t mean to surprise you. Joe sent me to bring you to your meeting.’

He’s dressed in his Charithonia uniform again – the daytime version with beige shorts and black polo – and wearing that dazzling smile he has that makes his white teeth seem bright against his sun-goldened skin.

‘I appreciate it,’ I say, pulling the door shut and, reluctantly, because I don’t want to seem like a damsel in distress, allowing him to relieve me of my laptop.

‘You look nice,’ he tells me casually, as if he’s very comfortable dishing out compliments.

I’m not so comfortable accepting them, so I ask, ‘Where are we headed?’

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