Page 35 of Some Like It Hott

My head is overflowing with names, spinning, by the time we get back to Sonya, who’s taking a break from supervising her staff to eat. “I know you know Sonya,” Rachel says. She turns to her. “We had such a hilarious moment on the boat the other day. I had everything prepared for Hanna and Natalie, and then Nat showed up with Preston, and I didn’t have the brains to do a complete pivot, so I went with it. With poor Preston playing the unsuspecting groom.”

“Oh, God!” Sonya says, turning to me with huge eyes. “That must have been hilarious.” She claps her hand over her mouth. “Oh no, and then you came to the spa and—you poor things!” She addresses Rachel again. “There was a mix-up. The front desk accidentally sent them into a couples massage appointment.”

“Are you serious?!” Rachel says. “I wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that.”

Both women are giggling uncontrollably. Sonya bites her lip. “I hope your luck looked up after those two days,” she says.

I think of the rage room and almost tell them about the strange moment that passed between Preston and me—and the confessions that followed—but before I can, my attention is diverted by the sight of Preston walking toward us, a toddler on his hip. He’s deep in conversation with her about something.

As they get closer, I realize he’s not talking to her at all. He’s holding a stuffed cat, monologuing in a squeaky Southern drawl interspersed with dramatic meows, pretending to be the voice of the toy. The toddler, who looks to be somewhere around a year to eighteen months old, holds a stuffed dog and is woofing back at him.

I’m completely charmed.

“Mr. Dog, sir, I know you want to be seated absolutely right away, but we simply do not have anything open at the moment. You’ll have to wait your?—”

The toddler holds the dog up to his face and woofs urgently.

“Sorry, El,” he says, kissing her on the nose. “Mr. Dog, sir, you’ll have to wait your turn.”

“Woof, woof,” the toddler says as Preston clocks the three of us standing and watching.

“This is Hanna’s daughter, Eloise,” Sonya says. “Want me to take her?” she asks Preston.

“Nah, we’re good—right, El?” he says. “El, say hi to my friend Natalie.” He nods toward me, something wry on his lips.

The word “friend” absolutely shouldn’t give me a tiny thrill.

“Ha!” Eloise says.

“Hi, Eloise,” I say back.

“Preston!”

The cry comes from behind us. Hanna, calling out the back sliders. “I don’t know what I did to the caramel?—”

Preston turns to scowl at his sister. “Oh, Jesus, Hanna, caramel? You can barely work the microwave, but you had to prep something notoriously impossible for an enormous party?”

“Can you help?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, of course. Coming.” He pauses, looking down at his niece. “Actually…” he says to Sonya.

She laughs. “Yup.” She opens her arms and takes Eloise and the stuffed dog, then reaches for the stuffed cat. Eloise pokes out a pudgy hand and shoves the cat back toward her uncle.

“You want Uncle Preston to keep Saucy Cat?” he asks her earnestly.

She nods.

Preston starts toward the house, tucking Saucy Cat into his pocket, and Eloise opens her mouth and howls.

He turns back. “You want to keep Saucy Cat,” he guesses. Eloise brightens, and he hands her the cat.

But when he turns to go again, Eloise bursts into tears.

“Hey, kiddo!” Rachel says to Eloise. “He’ll be back.”

But there’s no convincing Eloise of that fact. Her howl intensifies, tears streaming down her face, both her hands reaching for her uncle’s receding back.

“We’re going to have to follow Uncle Preston, aren’t we,” Sonya says.

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