Page 87 of Some Like It Hott

After a while I get sick of waiting by the phone for a guy who clearly doesn’t have time for me, and I decide to celebrate my successes without him.

Classic rewards include chocolate, wine, and spa visits.

Which is why I’m dressed in my robe and headed down to the hot springs, in defiance of every portion of my soul telling me to stay away from the scene of the crime.

Preston may not remember I exist, but I’m not going to let that deprive me of the chance to have a hot dip.

Except as I approach the hot springs, I hear voices.

I stop. I don’t want to interrupt anyone else’s intimate evening. Personal experience has taught me that what goes on at night at Hott Springs Eternal isn’t an open house.

“Natalie!” a voice says happily behind me, and I turn to find Reggie from the spa. She’s balancing a plate of cookies on a box of wine. “Can you get that gate for me?”

Obligingly, I do.

“Can you grab the cookies from me and put them on that table?” she asks, tipping her head to indicate the table in question.

I do. I can see who’s in the water now—Sonya and Ivy.

“I brought a buddy,” Reggie says.

I open my mouth to say that I don’t want to butt in, that I can come back another night, but Sonya beams delightedly at me.

“Natalie!” she says. “We were doing some planning for Ivy’s two weddings, and then we got burned out and decided to quit for the night and have a dip instead.”

“Two weddings?” I ask, raising my eyebrow at Ivy.

“One for our actual friends and family, and one for Shane’s screaming public,” Ivy says, rolling her eyes.

“She’s just being modest,” Sonya says. “It’s her screaming public, too.”

“It’s all the people shipping me and Shane, basically,” Ivy says. “Anyway, we’re not actually planning both. Publicists are planning one and we’re”—she gestures at her friends—“planning the other one.” She looks to me. “Do you know the whole story?”

“I know the gist,” I say.

“I should fill in the details, right?” Sonya says.

“If she has all night,” Ivy says, but before I can try again to extricate myself gracefully, Sonya has jumped in to tell me how Ivy and Shane got themselves into their now famous—and maybe slightly infamous—celebrity match.

Reggie has been pouring glasses of wine while Sonya talks, and she starts handing them around. She puts one in my hand.

“I—”

“Come on in,” Sonya says.

“I don’t want to crash your party,” I finally manage.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ivy says. “You’re always welcome. You’re one of us now.”

I duck my chin.

“What?” Sonya asks.

“I don’t know if it’s going to work,” I admit. “He more or less warned me it wouldn’t. Couldn’t. The day before he left. He told me he was scared that he couldn’t change and that once he was back in New York, he would slip back into spending all his time working and wouldn’t have time for me. And like a dope, I said, ‘I won’t let that happen.’ Like it was something I’d have any control over. And now he’s doing exactly what he said he was afraid of.” I bite my lip.

Ivy and Sonya exchange a look.

“You know,” Sonya says, so casually that I can tell she’s not. “Quinn and I broke up for a little while. After we fulfilled the terms of the will. Because we didn’t think we could make it work.”

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