Page 2 of Stuck in Paradise with You

‘A date? But you broke up with Tom two days ago.’ Not that I should be surprised. Callum describes himself as a serial monogamist. He practices monogamy but in a different relationship every six to eight weeks. ‘Plus, it’s Sunday. Pajama day.’

‘Don’t judge, sister,’ he says, pointing a finger in my direction as I bring myself to sit on a kitchen stool. ‘I would have been on a date with Ben last night but I was on daycare duties and I haven’t got my head around the idea of canoodling in front of the pooch yet.’

‘Gross.’ I pick up Eddie from where our short-haired four-month-old is now sniffing my toes, which are sore from being squished into pointed work heels all day and traipsing throughairports. ‘Poor Eddie doesn’t need to see Daddy’s gyrating butt, do you?’

Eddie barks. Case in point.

‘You should take a leaf out of my book,’ Callum tells me. ‘How long has it been for you? Like, forever.’

‘Not forever, and I’ve been busy. Which is actually the reason I asked you to come straight over.’ I wince. ‘I have to go away again on a red-eye tomorrow morning. Only for five days – I should be back on Friday in time for you to have your Friday night out.’

Callum sighs. ‘Carrie…’

‘I know, I know. I’m really sorry. It’s not like I want to go but I don’t have a choice. The Tax partner, Eric, got sick and I’ve been basically told by Rachel, the head of the entire New York office, that I have to go to the Caribbean. The client likes face-to-face meetings, apparently, and he’s ahugeclient.’

‘The Caribbean? Again? Who’d have thought an offshore tax specialist could have so much fun?’

I smile. ‘It won’t be fun. It will be hideous, I promise. Dull, dry, boring. I’d much rather be here with you and Eddie. But you know how har?—’

‘—hard you’ve worked to change the narrative of your career. You’re on the cusp of partnership and at thirty-one, that’s a big deal. You need to be a yes girl for a short while longer. Yada, yada, yada.’

Though he’s feigning a yawn and looking to the wood beams above him, I step off my stool and kiss him on the cheek. ‘Thank you. I will make it up to you.’ His flannel shirt smells a little like cigarettes and a lot like wet dog, but I decide not to tell him.

‘You know you will.’ He reaches into the jar of dog treats I keep beside my coffee maker and offers one to Eddie, which is snaffled and carried off to the rug in the lounge area. ‘Seriously,though, babes, there has to be more to life for you than running yourself into the ground for work.’

I draw in a breath, not because Callum’s words catch me off-guard – they don’t, I’ve heard them before – but because there isn’t much more. With the exceptions of my mom out in the suburbs, my dad down in Florida, Callum and Eddie, work is everything to me, and that’s just the way it is. Rather than explain this for the zillionth time, I search for our pug, who’s now spitting crumbs of biscuit onto my upholstered footstool.

I made a mistake early in my work life. One that could have cost me my career and one that has forced me to prove myself at every possible juncture as someone who doesn’t sleep her way to the top. I’ve slogged so hard and for so long, I don’t know what I’d do without my job.

‘So, where in the Caribbean this time?’ Callum asks, thankfully moving on to happier things.

I hop down from my stool and fill the water unit on the coffee machine to hide my delight. ‘A private island called Charithonia.’

‘Charithonia? Isn’t that Joe Hettich’s island?’

‘Is it?’ I ask with fake nonchalance.

He nudges into my side. ‘You know it is!’

Laughter escapes me. Only a month ago, we were talking about how rock goddess Molly Martin married her third husband on the billionaire philanthropist’s island.

‘First class flights, too.’ On account of Joe Hettich owning the airline. ‘And five days fully catered in his private resort.’

‘I’ve changed my mind; this is a great idea, and I think you need a chaperone.’

I turn to stand next to him, both of us resting back against the countertop, looking across my lounge-cum-diner-cum-kitchen space, and I lean my head onto his shoulder as we watch Eddie tearing up a stuffed toy. ‘See, there is more to life.’

Callum kisses my temple. ‘You know that’s not what I mean. When I’ve smoked and drank myself into early cardiac failure, I’d like you to have more than just Eddie for company.’

2

CARRIE

Despite the ungodly hour of the morning and Callum’sverylate night – with a man whose tight ass is apparently still sleeping in his bed – my best friend and Eddie are standing on the sidewalk outside our West Village building. The swanky chauffeur-driven car I’m being whisked off to JFK in is another perk of working for Joe Hettich.

As a senior tax advisor at my accountancy firm, I’ve met with extremely wealthy and well-respected people. Famous people, too. Yet the prospect of flying to Charithonia Island to meet Mr Hettich is intimidating.

Eighteen months ago, I switched accountancy firms from the firm I had worked for since the very first day of my career, and the same firm that I realized wouldnevermake me partner, despite seven long years of trying to correct their prejudices. I moved to a firm that took me on with a promise of partnership by the end of quarter three – this month – assuming I play my cards right.

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