Page 14 of Forbidden Fruit

Jack: Can’t make dinner tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.

No "good morning." No "can't wait for our trip tomorrow."

Me: Good morning!

While I wait for a response, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. It’s Saturday. Tomorrow, we leave for Mexico. Tomorrow, everything changes.

I try to recapture yesterday’s excitement as I shampoo my hair, but Holly’s words keep echoing.Have you thought about what happens after?

My phone is still silent when I get out of the shower—typical. Jack operates on his own timeline, responding when it suits him. I dress for work—I have a small wedding to coordinate this afternoon—and feed Mr. Darcy.

“Be good for Mrs. Feldman,” I tell him, scratching under his chin. My elderly neighbor has agreed to cat-sit while I’m away. “No shredding her curtains like last time. You’re lucky she adores you.”

My phone buzzes as I’m applying mascara. Finally, Jack. But when I check, it’s Clive again.

Clive: Good morning, Rebecca. Forgot to mention—water activities available at villa include snorkeling, jet skis, and a sunset sailing option. Let me know if any interest you.

I smile despite myself. There's something almost charming about his formal texting style.

Me: Good morning! All of that sounds amazing. I'd especially love to try snorkeling if possible.

I hit send before I can overthink it. Jack isn't much for water activities—he prefers lounging with a drink—but I've always wanted to try snorkeling. Maybe he'll surprise me and join.

His response comes immediately.

Clive: Excellent choice. The reef near the property is spectacular. I'll arrange equipment in your size.

My size? I feel my cheeks warm slightly.

Me: Thank you, that's very thoughtful.

Clive: Not at all. Travel safely tomorrow. Car will collect you at 7AM.

I frown at this new information.

I thought we were meeting at the airport?

Clive: Change of plans. Private jet from Teterboro. More convenient. Jack didn't mention?

Of course he didn't. I swallow my irritation and respond:

Me: Must have slipped his mind. Thank you for letting me know.

Jack: See you tomorrow.

I add the information to my mental checklist, then hurry to finish getting ready. As I'm heading out the door, Jack finally texts back:

No “can’t wait” or even an explanation about dinner. Just “see you tomorrow.” I try to ignore the disappointment settling in my chest as I lock up my apartment. Besides, I know what to expect from Jack and hoping for more is simply setting myself up for disappointment. He is who he is, after all.

The wedding I’m coordinating today is small but elegant—just fifty guests at a boutique hotel in SoHo. Surprisingly, the bride is relaxed for someone getting married in less than six hours, making my job easier. As I check table arrangements and confirm final details with the catering staff, my mind drifts to Mexico and Clive.

Private jet.The words keep replaying in my head. Jack never mentioned a private plane, which is a detail worth sharing. Then again, maybe to him, it’s not a big deal. When your stepfather is a billionaire, private jets are just... Tuesday. Although I grew up with money, my family is more like “first-class seats folks”, not private jet people.

“Ms. Jamison?” The hotel manager approaches with a clipboard. “The florist is asking about the arrangement for the sweetheart table.”

I snap back to the present. “Right. Let me speak with them.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of last-minute adjustments and minor crises averted. When the bride and groom share their first dance, I’m exhausted but satisfied. Another perfect event in the books.

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