Page 81 of The Wrong Fiancée

She stormed off, her heels clicking angrily on the pavement, disappearing into the distance. I watched her go, then turned back to the view of the bay, the sound of the ocean soothing the last bits of tension in my chest.

I wasn't worried. Not about Felicity. Not about the fallout from all of this. She'd made her bed, and now, she had to lie in it.

I took another sip of my cold brew, savoring the taste of it,and leaned back in my chair, the sun warming my skin. I felt free. There was no guilt for how it had worked out with Felicity. I made a mistake, and I regretted that. And wasn't it better to end an engagement rather than enter into a bad marriage?

I texted Damian:What are you doing to the Thatchers?

It took less than a minute to get a response from my brother.

Damian:I'm ruining them. Do you have a problem with that?

Me:Nope.

Damian:I can't believe that bitch tried to frame your wife.

I grinned. Elika had already become my wife, and here we hadn't even fucked. My family had a habit of jumping the gun, and Dad's endorsement of Elika had made everyone close ranks around her.

Me:Thanks, braddah.

I finished my coffee and put on my sunglasses. Felicity was in the past now. And that felt damn good.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

ELIKA

Instead of cleaning toilets, on my morning shift I worked with Melody. Ihad a desk next to Melody's in a gallery designed to blend the beauty of Kauai's natural landscape with the finest in contemporary and traditional island art. My view of the ocean and lush mountains was something out of a dream.

I couldn't believe that I was getting a chance to do this. It had all seemed so improbable, and now it felt like the 'ainaitself was smiling at me.

"So, what do you think?" Melody asked me.

We were sifting through a stack of artist portfolios on her desk at Ke Ala O Ke Kai gallery, preparing for a new exhibition in three months. I was very excited about this because I was going to be part of setting this up from start to finish. The fact that she wanted my opinion to finalize the artist lineup was just icing on the cake.

"We've got eight solid choices here, but we need to cut it down to five."

"Right." Melody flipped through the eight catalogs we'd shortlisted, her fingers pausing on a few pages. "Thoughts?"

I nodded, pulling out one of the catalogs. "Makoa Silva is a definite. His blend of traditional Hawaiian motifs with abstractmodernism is exactly what we need to open the exhibition—sets the right tone."

"Agreed. And what about this one?" She held up another catalog. "Kekoa's work has been consistent, but I'm not sure this collection is as strong."

I glanced at it. "His earlier pieces fit the theme better. I suggest we pass on this one and go with Kalia Arakaki instead. Her focus on native flora adds a fresh, vibrant layer that'll contrast nicely with Silva's darker palette."

"Good call. One more to cut." I knew this was her way of teaching me but also bolstering my confidence so I'd trust my instincts as she did.

"Maybe Kainalu's sculptures. Beautiful work, but I think they'll be too noisy alongside the others. If we drop him, we'll have a more cohesive flow between the mixed media and paintings."

She smiled. "You have an eye for this that is pretty impressive, considering you were in housekeeping half a minute ago."

"Don't knock housekeeping," I joked. "It taught me a lot about how to spot what needs fixing before anyone else even notices. Plus, arranging pillows? It's practically an art form."

Melody laughed. "We have our artists for the next show! Let's lock it in. And I'll let you contact Silva and Arakaki since you picked them."

"Me?" I gaped. I'd get to work with the artists!

"Don't get too excited. Managing their tantrums is no picnic. And you'll be responsible for keeping them happy with their placement in the gallery."

If it hadn’t been considered unprofessional, I would’ve kissed my boss.

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