Island Love Songs: Seven Nights in Paradise / The Wedding Dance / Orchids and Bliss

“You thought I worked too much. And I know it annoyed you that there were a lot of things you wanted to do that I was afraid to try. Like swimming.”

“We are different people,” Lawrence said. “I didn’t expect you to be a carbon copy of me.”

“Yes, you said that. But I just... Come on, Lawrence. We wouldn’t be the first couple to drift apart because of differences like that. And then there was that job offer I had on that series in Los Angeles. You weren’t happy that I was considering it.”

“Not so unhappy that I thought it meant the end of our relationship. If I had to live without you for a while, I would have managed.”

“I know,” Melanie said softly. “I know it’s easy to think that issues are surmountable when you’re in love, then suddenly, everything changes. What if I got a wardrobe job on a set in another part of the country or even in another part of the world—one that would take me away for weeks or months?”

“Did I ever once say that I didn’t support your career? From the day we met in that men’s clothing store—where you were doing some shopping for a film, and you gave me advice on the suit I was picking out—I knew what you did for a living. And I’ve always supported it.”

“I know. But...”

“But you were looking for reasons to walk away,” Lawrence said, his tone sour. “Sure, we got involved, but ultimately, you never could let down your guard with me. I thought I’d made it clear how much I loved you, wanted to be with you, wanted a life with you. But you...you couldn’t get past what your father did to your mother. He told your mother that he left because she wasn’t a homemaker, and you, at the end of the day, you believed I would do the same thing.”

Melanie’s heart began to pump a little harder. Lawrence had so easily torn away the layers of her excuses and hit the very core—something she didn’t even like to acknowledge to herself. Because Melanie had spent years believing that her father wasn’t a typical man. And then, there she was, on the morning of her wedding, and suddenly paralyzed with fear that Lawrence would hurt her the way her father had crushed her mother.

“Nothing’s impossible.”

“Wow.” Lawrence shook his head. Though he had come up with the very reason for her bailing on him, he seemed stunned to hear her verify his hypothesis. “Wow.”

Melanie glanced down, feeling bad for how her words had clearly hurt him. At her core, she had definitely believed that Lawrence was a family guy, one who would value her and not up and leave.

That was why she had fallen for him, why she’d agreed to marry him. But in the end, she just couldn’t go through with it.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Lawrence asked when she faced him again. “After all we meant to each other, after we were about to get married, you didn’t think you owed me the courtesy of a phone call?”

“I was afraid of how you would react.”

“Nothing would have been harder than the reality I was left to deal with. Being stood up at the altar and facing all the wedding guests who wondered what the heck was going on. My family and yours. Having to explain to them that the wedding was off. Having to be consoled by people when I didn’t even understand what was going on.”

“I’m sorry,” Melanie said.

Lawrence pushed his chair back and stood. “Yeah,” he said dully. “Thanks.”

And then he walked away, and Melanie knew—by the tone of his voice, even though she had explained her actions—her apology nine months after the fact was too little, too late.

Chapter 5

Hours later, Melanie still felt ambiguous about her meeting with Lawrence and how he had left her. He’d wanted answers, saying that he needed closure, and she’d given them. She even hoped that, by finally talking to him about their failed wedding day, she herself would feel better. But while Melanie had watched Lawrence’s back as he’d walked away from her table—moments before the waitress had returned with his omelet—the last thing she had felt was closure.

Still, during her spa session with Richelle, she’d talked tough. “I feel good,” she’d said as she and Richelle had lain on side-by-side massage tables, overlooking floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the stunning view of the ocean. “We talked, I explained my feelings, and now he understands. It’s silly that I avoided him for so long, because the truth is, talking to him today helped me get closure, as well.”

“Closure?” Richelle asked, her voice ripe with skepticism.

“Yeah. He deserved to know why, and I’d been running from that for months. That’s why I was so stressed. Because I never talked to him and gave him answers. I guess I thought he was going to flip out, and I couldn’t deal with that. But our talk went well, we resolved things, and now all the stress is leaving my body.”

That’s what Melanie had said as the skilled masseuse had worked the kinks out of her neck and back, but hours later, she felt some of the tension in her neck return. That’s where she really felt her stress. She was still thinking about Lawrence, remembering that crushed expression in his eyes. And she was definitely feeling guilt over the fact that she knew she had hurt him.

“I didn’t even ask Lawrence how long he was staying in Fiji,” Melanie said now, leaning in to whisper to Richelle hours later, as they sat on chairs on the beach for the evening’s entertainment.

“Why does that matter?” Richelle asked.

She shrugged. “Just curious. I know you don’t believe me about having closure, but if he shows up here tonight, I assure you I’ll be able to go over and have a friendly chat with him. He and I can be friends now, Richelle.”

The fire illuminated Richelle’s face, making it extremely easy to see exactly what she thought of Melanie’s theory. “Hogwash.”

“What?”

“You do realize that you haven’t stopped talking about Lawrence all day?” Richelle pointed out.

Melanie’s stomach tightened uncomfortably. “Richelle, let’s just enjoy the show.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who brought up Lawrence. Again.”

Roy returned from the bar then with the two piña coladas Melanie and Richelle had requested. He handed a drink to each of them, then sat beside Richelle and slipped his arm around her shoulder. The entire wedding group seemed to be enjoying the traditional Fijian warrior show, with men in grass skirts and donning swords doing some sort of ritualistic dance. It was spectacular. But with each minute that passed, Melanie felt increasingly alone.

Beside her, Richelle was caught up with Roy. Leaning into him. Giggling at words he whispered into her ear. It suddenly struck Melanie that once the wedding was over, and even before that, she would be largely left to her own devices.

She surveyed the crowd of hotel guests. So far she hadn’t seen Lawrence and Shemar. She wondered if he was avoiding tonight’s festivities on the beach because of her.

But he had no need to. He had gotten the answers he’d wanted. Even if he didn’t like them.

About ten minutes later, Melanie caught sight of his face through her peripheral vision as he sifted his way through the crowd. Instantly, her heart slammed into her chest at the mere glimpse of him. She felt that familiar, fierce attraction she’d felt even the first day she had laid eyes on him. He was absolutely gorgeous.

You let him go? people had asked. But he’s so hot.

Perhaps it was because Lawrence was so hot that Melanie had felt even more insecure. She was a beautiful woman, and he’d told her so often, but women were often dogged in their determination to steal a man like Lawrence. That’s what Vern had claimed when Richelle had found out about his affair.

But right now, as she took in his sexy torso draped in a white cotton shirt, and his firm behind clad in denim, she felt a purely carnal pull of lust for him.

He was alone and looking for a place to sit. She swallowed, wondering if this was the time for her to put her money where her mouth was and get up and go over to him. Invite him to sit in the empty seat beside her.

And she was just about to rise when she saw him turn and gesture to someone behind him. Craning her neck to see whom he was beckoning over, her stomach tensed violently. Because walking toward Lawrence was not only Shemar, but also two olive-complexioned women dressed in short, tight dresses.

They were gorgeous. The kind of women who oozed sexuality.

“What’s he doing with them?” Melanie asked, her heart beating faster than normal.

She didn’t realize she’d spoken the question aloud until Richelle turned to her asking, “What was that?”

Melanie glanced at Richelle, saw that even as she was trying to talk to her, Roy was nuzzling his nose in her neck.

“Nothing,” Melanie said, swallowing. “Nothing.”

“Stop it!” Richelle chastised Roy playfully. Then said to her, “Sorry, Mel. Oh. Oh. I see. Looks like he did get his closure after all.”

Melanie gaped at Richelle.