Page 17 of The Moment of Letting Go

It doesn’t matter. I have to get ready to catch my plane.

Without looking back, I leave the beach in a very dry bikini covered by a pair of white shorts and head toward the hotel.

It’s for the best anyway. After today I’ll be back at home in San Diego and there’s not one good thing I can think of that I’d get out of spending an hour with Luke. If anything, I’d end up liking him enough to want to spend more time with him and I’d have to leave Hawaii more disappointed than I already am.

I saved the wedding from Veronica, Destroyer of Weddings. The caterer showed up as planned. The original band was a no-go when I finally contacted them. They said they’d already booked that time slot with someone else. But the guy took pity on me—after I’d apologized profusely for what Veronica had done—and made some calls. Turns out Veronica decided to fire them because they said they might be ten minutes late—unbelievable. At the last minute, just when I thought Mrs. Dennings’s angry gaze was actually going to set me on fire this time, I got the call. The new band showed up with just minutes to spare and everything else went smoothly the rest of the evening.

Mrs. Dennings never actually said thank you, but she didn’t call Cassandra and manage to get me fired, and I figured that was the best she was willing to offer.

Paige comes around the side of the building just as I’m walking up, a relieved expression settled over her features. Her pink-tinged cheeks blow up with air before letting it all out slowly like pinching the opening of a balloon.

“I’m so glad that’s over,” she says.

I don’t agree or disagree, but instead I look beyond her, afraid to meet her eyes. Because I’m not particularly good at this boss thing, especially when it comes to my best friend—another lesson learned.

“Are you ready to pack up and hitch a ride off this rock?” she asks, smiling now, having no clue about what’s plaguing my thoughts that have everything—well, mostly—to do with her. Luke is still kinda there, floating around in the back in my subconscious, uninvited.

I sigh, looking down at my feet.

“Paige, I need to talk to you.”

Her expression goes slack in an instant.

“Yeah, what’s up?” She waits impatiently and then softens her features when I look back at her, almost as if trying to help me out. My shoulders fall into a slump and I let out a deep breath, dropping my beach bag and towel on the concrete as I sit down on the low brick border surrounding the landscaping. Moments later, she sits beside me; I can smell her fruity passion perfume.

“Paige,” I begin, gazing out ahead at the palm trees on the side of the building, “you’re great at what you do and you help me tremendously, but—”

“You’re firing me?” Strangely enough, her face softens even more, when I most expected it to shrivel up and make me feel awful.

“What—no!”

She smiles. “Don’t worry about it.” Her hand touches my shoulder. “I was actually going to put in my resignation.” She gestures her free hand and adds suddenly, “It has nothing to do with you, girl, so don’t think that for a second.”

“Wait—you’re quitting?” Blindsided, it takes me a second to get anything out. “Paige, I wasn’t going to fire you. I just wanted to apologize for snapping at you—it’s not as easy being your boss as I thought it’d be.”

Paige chuckles. “I can tell,” she says, and then lays her head on my shoulder for a brief second. “But I meant what I said about never putting you in a bad position. I think it’s better I find another job before I get you fired.”

“So you’re really quitting?”

She nods and her hands fall into her lap. “Not right now,” she says. “I mean, I’ll definitely stay on board until Cassandra can find someone to replace me, but I’m just not cut out for this stuff. I don’t have the patience for it—well, for people like that.” She laughs lightly. “I have to admit, if it weren’t for you, I might’ve told that bitch off.”

I smile faintly.

“So what are you going to do when you leave?”

She pauses and says, “I’ve got something lined up—not that I’ve been planning to quit, but you know me. I’ll manage.”

This is true. Paige doesn’t really need to work to live like most of us do; she comes from a wealthy family in the real estate business and wouldn’t have to work a day in her life if she didn’t want to. But Paige likes to work. It keeps her busy and off the Lazy Citizens of America list, as she calls it. But mostly it gives her more of a reason to spend ridiculous amounts of money on clothes and shoes and all things expensive and in style.

I nod, a small smile tugging my lips—this is all such a relief. Sort of. I hate to see her go. But I understand.

“So then you’re still on for Jamaica?”

She smiles. “Yeah,” she says, “but I was hoping my first time there would be more”—she twirls her index finger in the air, a concentrating look in her eyes—“enjoyable. I was excited about Hawaii, but it didn’t quite turn out like I envisioned it.”

“Yeah,” I say simply and look out ahead again as the rest is cut off by my sudden deep thoughts. “I guess I can’t blame you.” My voice is distant.

“It’s gettin’ to you, too, I can tell.”

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