Sweet Cheeks(31)

The irony, that I’d be covered in frosting—Mitch’s worst nightmare. But at least I’d be unrecognizable.

What if Hayes doesn’t show?

That’s my thought as the tropical air hits my face, and I take in everything around me.

The island is absolutely beautiful. The beaches are picturesque. Its main street colorful and full of sleepy island life as we drive through it.

I repeat the promises I made to myself when I stepped foot onto the plane at the crack of dawn this morning: I’m here to save my business and in the process put to rest the two men I’ve loved in my life.

Because saving my business is first and foremost. Proving to the Laytons and their friends that I’m confident and happy when I’m certain they assume the exact opposite.

And that leads me to my next promise to myself. To use the time here to rid myself of any lingering doubts I may have in regards to Mitch. To reaffirm that I made the right decision walking away and feel nothing for him other than complete indifference.

That and the need to prove to his shallow, smug guests that I don’t need them or their lifestyle and am doing perfectly fine on my own.

Of course that leads me to my last resolution: Hayes Whitley. And every single damn thing about him. I told myself I needed to let go of what happened ten years ago. Forgive him, although I’m not sure what to do with the hurt I’ve harbored within. And while it might be trickier than forgiveness, I also need to realize that I don’t need answers as to why he left. What’s more important is to focus on the fact that he’s taking a huge chunk of time out of his personal schedule to be here for me. To help me prove a point and redeem a few of the things I lost when I left Mitch—most notably a chance for my business to succeed.

I have a feeling there are a few other things Hayes is going to show me too. He always did have that knack. To bring things out of me that I never knew I had in me: to look at the world from a different light, to challenge me in one way or another, to make me see a situation differently. Even as a teenager I recognized that.

Hand in hand with that is the notion that I’m heading into this weekend knowing I’m not going to walk away unscathed when it comes to Hayes. It’s impossible not to.

The question is what exactly the damage will be. Will it be to my heart, to the memory I had of us, or to my ego?

I have a feeling it might be all three.

It’ll be pretty hard to protect myself when it’s him doing the damage. Again.

So I focus on the scenery. On the little boys with dirt-smeared faces playing soccer in the alley. On the lady selling her handmade bracelets on the corner. On the cobblestone streets lined with wandering tourists eating shaved ice, or the couples walking hand in hand sharing a kiss.

The scenery changes. The trees still lush, the views amazingly spectacular, but the coast with its hypnotizing water comes back into view and stretches endlessly. We turn onto a drive with its lavishly landscaped grounds. Palm trees and vibrant flowers rustle in the ocean breeze.

The cab slows when it pulls up in front of the hotel’s entrance, and for one quiet second, I forget why I’m here. A small thrill of excitement tickles the base of my spine as I exit the car. My head swivels from side to side when I take in the grandeur of the hotel and smile at the sound of accented voices while the bellhop takes my luggage from the trunk.

So this is how the other half lives, huh? Well, this girl from the valley is going to soak up every ounce of it while I’m here.

I can almost picture myself relaxing—a drink in my hand, my feet in the sand, the sun on my skin—as I walk into the lobby. It’s even prettier than the brochures and online pictures portrayed. But when the cool rush of air-conditioned air hits my face, it also brings me back to reality. Either the air or the huge sign on an easel with elaborate calligraphy that says, Welcome Layton and Taylor wedding guests. Because the sight of that sign hits me full force as to what I’m about to do.

My stomach churns instantly. I’m here to attend Mitch’s new wedding. Not mine. In the place I’d dreamed of getting married.

My bravado wanes on my walk toward the registration counter. To calm my sudden bout of nerves, I take in the marble floors beneath me and lush plants around me. I keep my eyes straight ahead, focused on the nice lady with the gentle smile welcoming me to the hotel, because I just realized that it’s quite possible I could run into Mitch, his parents, or any of my supposed friends with each corner I turn in this hotel.

The funny thing is, I was prepared for that. Told myself it was going to be easy to do. But words are often easy to speak until reality slaps you in the face.

And oh how they are hitting me, now.

“I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the Seven Stars Resort, Miss Taylor. I look forward to making your wedding a memorable one. What can—?”

“I’m sorry, you must have me confused with someone else.” One Rebound Sarah Taylor to be exact. “I’m not getting married. Just a wedding guest here to check in.”

Her eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I thought . . . You look like—oh, my apologies. The wedding coordinator showed me a picture of Miss Taylor earlier, so I could greet her if she came to the front desk. And you look so similar. You could be sisters. I’m so sorry, I—”

“It’s okay.” I force a smile at the irony of the entire situation. More importantly, I was right in my assumption that just like everything else, Sarah looks like me too. I shouldn’t be surprised. But still . . . “Saylor Rodgers checking in, please.”