Chapter Thirty-One
Five minutes alone on the balcony was all the time Samantha needed for a proper meltdown. There was a hive of angry bees trapped in her chest. Screaming into her cupped hands was the only way she knew to let them out. She couldn’t go at it with her friends watching.
Samantha’s head was reeling. Was Mercury in retrograde? Was that it? How else could she explain this strange twist of events? Against all conceivable odds, she’d met a guy she truly liked and he seemed to like her, too. Time was not on their side; she knew this and was OK with it. She was prepared to leave on Sunday a little sad, a little hopeful, but overall better off for having met him. No drama. No stress.
The funny thing, the thing that cracked her up, was that she’d hoped Roman would help dispel the drama of her last break-up. Now look what he’d done! To get dumped and then ditched, and in such a public way, was just tragic. She’d never shake off her well-meaning friends. It was going to be ‘poor Sammy’ until the end of days. They would never move on from this. In a quarter century’s time, at Naomi and Anthony’s silver anniversary gala, they’d gather around to tell the tale of Tara Evans.
Her five minutes were up, but her rage hadn’t died down. How could she go out there and face everyone, face him … and her? Maybe she could climb over the ledge and slip into the night. With the exception of Amelia, who was keeping tabs on every member of the bridal party, would anyone miss her?
The door to the balcony squealed open. Samantha had her answer. Naomi’s head pushed through the crack, knocking her crystal tiara askew. ‘There you are, Sammy.’
She was so moved she nearly burst into tears. Screw Roman and his fiancée. She had real friends and would always be missed.
‘What are you still doing out here?’ Naomi asked.
‘Just needed some fresh air.’
‘That’s enough of that. Come inside.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Samantha took a step toward the door and froze. ‘Are they …?’
‘No, they’re not,’ Naomi replied. ‘I haven’t seen them around. Even if they were, what would it matter? You’ve done nothing wrong. Now let’s get back out there before Amelia sends a drone to track us down. You can’t hide all night. I won’t have it.’
From stilted speeches to surprise guests, the reception finally got lively. The guests were up and mingling. Roman and Tara were nowhere in sight. Whether Naomi approved or not, hiding in plain sight was Samantha’s plan for the evening. She stuck close to the flock of bridesmaids, hoping their matching dresses would work like camouflage. Her plan worked for a while. When the DJ turned up the volume, playing a Soca staple, she followed everyone onto the dance floor. When the tempo slowed, and everyone drifted off in pairs leaving her standing alone in the middle of the dance floor, she plotted her next move.
The head table was empty, abandoned by all except Anthony’s uncle, who appeared to be dozing off. If she returned to her seat, she might as well stand under a spotlight. It was time for another trip to the restroom. A long queue snaked out of the ladies’. Since her goal was to avoid people as much as possible, Samantha changed route, cut through the lobby to the private restrooms. The plan backfired. She ran straight into Maya.
‘Hey, Sam!’ the girl cried. ‘Come with me!’
‘Where are you headed?’
Maya waved a keycard. ‘The honeymoon suite. I’m going to decorate, if you know what I mean.’
‘Is that necessary?’ She was sure housekeeping had turned down the bed and sprinkled rose petals on the sheets.
‘It’s tradition. I’m going to write lurid messages on their bathroom mirror in lipstick and trace a path from the door to the bed with these.’
She fished around in her basket for a condom wrapped in gold foil. Samantha eyed it with scepticism. Wasn’t it late in the game for those?
‘Carry on without me,’ Samantha said. ‘And take pictures. I want to see your handiwork.’
‘Just so you know, I’m gunning for you,’ Maya said. ‘You and Roman make a cute couple. And sure, Tara is a baddie, but so are you. Don’t forget it.’
That was one pep talk Samantha could have done without. ‘Thanks, Maya. Now go on! Have fun with it!’
Maya was already on the move. ‘Just don’t mope around.’
Samantha took that as an insult. ‘When have you ever seen me mope?’
Maya was no longer within earshot. But the man who’d given her cause to mope was.
Roman entered the lobby through the main entrance and stopped abruptly at the sound of her voice. Her first instinct was to run and lock herself in a bathroom cubicle. Only he seemed so relieved to see her, her stupid heart squeezed out one last drop of hope.
‘What are you doing out here?’ he asked.
She pointed to the ballroom doors. The DJ had switched things up again and a pulsing bass bounced off the walls. ‘I’m avoiding all the happy couples.’
Roman stepped closer. ‘You’re avoiding me.’