Until I Met You

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jasmine caught the bouquet. Her chances were vastly improved by Samantha, Maya and Jen’s complete lack of interest. Her only true competition was a woman in her late thirties who, though motivated, did not have the wherewithal to lunge in four-inch heels.

At long last, it was over. Bride and groom were sent off under a hailstorm of rice and corn for luck and prosperity. They got as far as the pool where they stripped down to bikini and swim shorts and jumped in. A last-minute post on the wedding website with instructions to wear swimwear beneath their formalwear was a tip.

Maya kicked off her shoes, kept her dress on, and dived in after them. The small gathering started chanting, ‘JASMINE! JASON! JEN!’ for no reason other than it was catchy. Hugo didn’t need prompting. He stripped down to floral print trunks, grabbed Adrian’s hand, and leaped in.

Samantha sat at the edge of the pool and dipped her feet in the water.

‘Jump, Sammy! Dive in!’ cried Maya from the deep end.

‘Sorry, can’t!’

She couldn’t dive in. Her heart was so heavy she might drown. Roman had disappeared at the end of the night. Had he gone after Tara? Were they sitting in the moonlight wondering where they’d gone wrong? Although she kept repeating, It doesn’t matter. I don’t care, she cared very much and hated that he could make her feel this way, so freaking insecure. This was not like her.

‘Why not?’ Maya demanded.

Samantha held up her phone. ‘Taking photos!’

The excuse was enough to satisfy the younger girl. Maya took social media very seriously.

Samantha snapped a few photos to avoid further questions. Since none of her friends were camera-shy, they leaped and splashed about, competing for her attention. She laughed and played the role of art director. In twelve hours, she would board a flight home. No matter how she truly felt, she would cherish these last few hours with these incredible people.

All of that was shot to pieces when Anthony called out Roman’s name. ‘Hey man, you’re back! Where were you? Where’s T?’

Roman walked onto the pool deck, looking very much like an off-duty model in his dark suit, shirt undone, tie hanging loose around his neck. All the laughing, screeching and general carousing came to a halt. The answer to those questions was of interest to everyone, Samantha included.

Anthony had the presence of mind to climb out of the pool and take Roman aside. They continued the conversation in hushed tones. Naomi and Jasmine slid quick worried glances Samantha’s way. Anthony ended the summit by pointing her out. Roman caught her eye and crossed the deck, making his way toward her.

‘Hey, you,’ he said. ‘Why are you sitting here alone?’

Not a minute ago, her heart was trapped in the icy grip of anxiety. And now, just the sound of his voice flooded her chest with warmth. This was not good. Roman Carver could squeeze a woman’s heart, leaving nothing but the pulp. She couldn’t let him. She had not come all the way to Tobago just to let a man derail her life once again.

It was clear he wasn’t ready for a new relationship, and neither was she. He was still trying to sort himself out, which was his right. Samantha was searching for a thrill that wasn’t necessarily tied to romantic love, which left her no time to fool around.

‘I’m OK here,’ she answered.

‘May I speak with you?’ he asked.

She was done talking, but didn’t want to be rude, not in front of everyone. She allowed him to pull her to her feet. She turned her back to the others for some added privacy, but that was as far as she’d go. ‘What’s up?’

‘I wanted to give you this.’ He handed her the keycard to her bungalow. ‘I cleared my stuff out.’

Samantha stared blankly at him. This morning she’d slid the spare card in his pocket while he kissed her. They had such grand plans for the night and the morning. They were going to talk about the future, see how they could keep this good thing they’d found going. She fought the childish urge to snatch the card from him and stomp it with her foot. Yet the urge that followed was too strong to overcome. She took the card, thanked him, and sent him plunging backwards into the deep end of the pool. She’d warned him what would happen given the chance.

The loud splash of water, and the even louder cries it provoked, still roared in Samantha’s head when she made it back to her bungalow. She switched on the lights and took in her little sanctuary. The original plan was to spend some much needed alone-time here, indulging in intense self-care. Why had she strayed from the plan?

She peered into the bedroom from the doorway. It was stripped of any sign a man had been there, and she felt the sting of loss. Samantha was suddenly exhausted. She curled onto the bed and rested her head on the stack of pillows, hoping to relieve the pounding at her temples. A stiff piece of paper stuck to her cheek. She yanked it off and examined it. The square envelope with the hotel’s logo was smudged with her make-up. The handwritten note inside was pristine.

You’re perfect for me – R