Page 85 of Vacation with the Ice Queen

"Idiot," she muttered to herself, setting the phone down with more force than necessary.

Her laptop screen glowed from the table, the half-finished email to the board still waiting for completion. The Walter situation remained unresolved. The corporate fires still needed tending. For a moment, she stood at the crossroads between her usual path—diving back into work, letting it consume her completely—and something new and frightening and undefined.

Five days. The countdown ticked in her mind, each second bringing her closer to departure.

Serena's gaze landed on the driftwood Lila had brought her that last evening, still sitting on the side table where she'd placed it. She picked it up, running her fingers over the smooth surface shaped by years of ocean currents. Nature's patient artistry,revealing the beauty hidden within what most would dismiss as beach debris.

Was that what Lila had been doing with her? Gradually revealing what lay beneath the barriers Serena had built over decades?

The thought both terrified and exhilarated her.

Her phone chimed again—another email notification. Serena glanced down, expecting more corporate drama. Instead, she found a message from resort services with the subject line "Dining Delivery Confirmation."

She frowned, opening it automatically. She hadn't ordered dinner.

Ms. Frost,

Your special order has been prepared as requested and will be delivered to Ms. Skye's cottage at 8:00 p.m. Our chef has incorporated all local specialties as discussed.

Silver Resorts Dining Services

Serena stared at the message, confusion turning to understanding. This was the dinner she'd arranged for Lila, days ago during that brief window of openness when she'd wanted to create something special for her. She'd forgotten completely in the aftermath of their morning confrontation.

A glance at her watch showed 7:42 p.m.

Without conscious decision, she was moving, closing her laptop, setting aside reports, and leaving behind the digital tethers to New York. Serena ran a hand through her hair, suddenly aware of her rumpled appearance after hours of wandering the island. No time to change since the dinner would arrive at Lila's cottage in eighteen minutes.

What was she doing? Rushing off to intercept a dinner delivery like some romantic comedy heroine? This wasn't like her at all.

And yet her feet carried her toward the door, grabbing her key card on the way. If nothing else, she needed to explain to the staff that the dinner should be canceled, that things had changed, that?—

That she'd gotten scared and pushed away the one person who'd made her feel more alive than she had in years.

Outside, the night air wrapped around her, warm and fragrant. The path to the staff quarters was marked by subtle lighting embedded in stone—enough to guide the way without disrupting the blanket of stars overhead. Serena moved quickly, her mind racing ahead.

What would she say if she actually got there before the dinner? What could she possibly offer that would undo the hurt she'd caused? Would Lila even open her door?

She had no answers, no strategic plan, no carefully crafted speech. For perhaps the first time in her adult life, Serena was operating purely on instinct, heart leading while mind scrambled to keep up.

The lights of the staff cottages appeared through the trees, warm squares of yellow against the tropical night. Somewhere among them was Lila's home—the cottage Serena had visited only once, where they'd shared a meal and conversations that went deeper than she'd allowed herself in years.

Serena slowed, suddenly uncertain. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should turn back, let the dinner be delivered with an impersonal note from the kitchen, and not force her presence where it clearly wasn't wanted.

A staff member appeared around the bend, pushing a cart laden with covered dishes, heading directly toward the cottages. The dinner service, right on time.

Decision time. Turn back to her villa, to work and walls and the safe isolation she'd perfected over decades. Or moveforward into uncharted territory, without guarantees or control or carefully calculated outcomes.

For once, her brilliantly strategic mind had no perfect solution or clear path forward.

Only a choice, right here, right now.

Serena watched the server with the food cart for a moment, her heart pounding as indecision gripped her. This wasn't a business deal with clearly defined parameters. This was messy, unpredictable emotion—exactly what she'd spent decades avoiding.

But standing there in the warm tropical night, watching the dinner she'd ordered slipping away toward Lila's cottage, something shifted inside her. For once, the calculating voice in her head fell silent, replaced by a simpler, clearer thought: she didn't want to lose Lila.

Not without trying. Not without being honest about what she was feeling.

"Excuse me," she called, hurrying toward the server with the food cart. "That dinner. Is it for Lila Skye?"

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