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JDL: Oh—I had some documents posted to me anonymously. I don’t know what they hoped to achieve by doing so. They probably thought to reach out to me because I was an upstanding citizen in Colombo society.





13


AMAYA


Two Days before the Wedding


THE ONLY SILVER lining is that, with the wedding around the corner, the celebrations had now moved out of the Fonsekas’ home and into the Mount Lavinia hotel.

Kaavi’s bridal shower was the next day—Don’t worry, ladies, the bridal shower part is for the aunties, but you can be assured the night won’t end without some dirty, flirty, after-hours fun, Kaavi had joked in a recent video. The formal bridal shower will be held over afternoon tea at the hotel terrace, with the after-party to continue down by the beach. No one over thirty-five allowed was the informal notice given. I guess that’s when the transformation into Colombo 07 aunty began, at least in Kaavi’s opinion.

The bridal shower was supposed to start at 4:00 p.m., so of course, when I showed up at 3:55 p.m. I was the only one there. I kept forgetting about island time, and how it was an unspoken rule that everyone would always be half an hour late. It did nothing to help my anxiety.

I wondered whether Spencer had checked into the hotel today or if he was coming with the rest of the group tomorrow? My palms felt clammy at the thought of bumping into him again. It’s been so strange seeing him here—out of his element but still so smoothly fitting in. But that was what drew me to Spencer in the first place. His understated confidence, overruling the childish arrogance I had once worn like a security blanket. Peeling off the layers I had built up to guard against feeling vulnerable, until he knew every bit of me, every inch. The way he could make me smile and laugh and tremble and gasp and lose my breath, and finally, the way he made me his entirely.

I had to stop thinking about him. He was the center of my plan, yes, but I couldn’t have him distract me from it.

I decided to wander around the hotel instead. I hadn’t been here in many years and had forgotten how absolutely beautiful it was. Originally the governor of British Ceylon’s house, it was converted to a five-star hotel in 1877. The legend goes that British governor Sir Thomas Maitland fell madly in love with a dancing girl, Lovina, during a welcome party held in his honor when he first arrived to the island. So much was he enraptured that he ordered the construction of a secret tunnel that led from his wine cellar to Lovina’s home, so that the lovers could meet in secret. Even though no evidence of this passageway has ever been found, the hotel was a beautifully preserved echo of a time long past.

Someone once told me, at a wedding when I was a child, that I shouldn’t wander through the corridors in the old wing alone at night. They said the ghost of a dancing girl could be heard echoing on the hardwood floors. The tap, tap, tap of her steps, accompanied by the tinkling of bells on her anklets.

The driveway to the hotel wrapped around a sparkling fountain that housed the statue of Lady Lavinia, as Lovina came to be called, and the white colonial-style building rose up against the backdrop of the sea. The enormous terrace that held the hotel pool overlooked the ocean, and of course, Kaavi had booked out the whole terrace and the attached restaurant. The Fonsekas had booked out the whole hotel, come to think of it, but I thought that was from tomorrow.

Kaavi and I both loved the Mount Lavinia Hotel as children. The Fonsekas would usually come here on Sundays, first to have lunch at the exquisite Sunday lunch buffet, followed by us jumping in the pool or hanging out down by the beach. Mrs. Fonseka would not sway from under a large beach umbrella, chiding us girls for being out in the sun and “getting dark,” but we would ignore her and run along the private beach, reveling in how empty it would get the farther we moved away from the hotel. Tehani would try to follow us sometimes, but Kaavi would threaten to lock her in one of the changing rooms that dotted the shore until she left us alone. Mr. Fonseka would play with us sometimes too. I remember how he helped us dig a huge hole once, and then I jumped in and they buried me in the sand, leaving just my head out. We couldn’t stop laughing. I wonder if there was a picture of that somewhere?

I had hoped being early meant that I would have a chance to speak with Kaavi before the festivities began. I wanted only that—one last chance to speak to her. She had brushed me off before, at Andre’s, but maybe with everything that had come to light about Spencer, she’d be a little more open.

And today was probably my last shot. Tomorrow was the Poruwa—the traditional Sinhalese part of the wedding, though they wouldn’t be signing the marriage certificate until the church ceremony, which would take place the next day, followed by the reception, of course. I’d heard whispers that the guest of honor that was delaying the signing of the papers was the highly celebrated captain of the Sri Lanka cricket team. Thank goodness it gave me an extra day to work with, and that was what is important right now.

I went to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. The Mount Lavinia Hotel was old-school, which meant they had actual walls in between cubicles—no sneaking a peek underneath to check if anyone was inside. Once you were in, you were safe.

I pulled the seat down and took out my phone. I had typed out everything I wanted to tell Kaavi, from what happened between Spencer and me to everything I had regretted since. I should have never just walked away. I know that now. I just wished it would have been easier for me to fix what happened.