Their Festive Island Escape

“Have you been gambling?”

Another hiccup followed by a sniffle. “I was just tryin’ a get some money to buy the baby some extra-special Christmas presents. Wanted to do it on my own, without help from nobody.”

Celeste leaned back in her chair, her surprise almost too much to contain. Her mother had actually wanted to feel the pride of getting her first grandchild a holiday gift without asking for money from anyone else. Mainly her.

Celeste couldn’t help but feel touched. But Wendy had gone about it in an oh-so-wrong way.

One thing was clear. Her mother needed to get help. It couldn’t be put off any longer. Not only did her occasional alcohol benders seem to be growing more frequent, she now ran the very real risk of acquiring a gambling addiction, too.

“Mother, stop crying. I’ll take care of the electricity bill, okay?”

“Th-thank you,” Wendy was no longer trying to hold back the wails. “I didn’t want to freeze.”

“You won’t. And we’ll be sure to get Nat a wonderful present when I get back, okay? But you have to stop trying to win the money.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me, Mother.”

“I promise,” Wendy answered, and another loud sniffle followed.

Celeste squeezed her eyes shut and counted her breath for several beats after her mother hung up. It took some time, but finally her pulse started to slow and some of the tension left her midsection. She would need a full and long meditation session soon to try to take the edge off her frayed emotions. Given her day already, the session would have to be a marathon one.

She had so much to take care of once she returned to New York City.

But first things first. Saving the document she was working on, she switched browsers and called up her mother’s electricity bill. The sum in arrears made her gasp. It was a wonder the electricity company hadn’t shut her off already. With resignation and sadness, Celeste transferred the amount out of her own checking account to cover the debt.

This was her truth. Her reality.

Incidents like this were the reason she shouldn’t have forgotten herself last night. Worse, they were the reason she should have never let herself fall for a man like Reid Evanson in the first place. Why hadn’t she learned her lesson the first time?

For his reality was so very different from the one she lived in.

* * *

Alex made a show of glancing at his watch when Reid finally made it into the office later that morning. Reid braced himself for the inevitable ribbing that was sure to be headed his way.

“Yeah. I know I’m late, partner. How about giving me some slack this one time, huh?” he asked, his arms spread out and his palms up.

Alex rubbed his jaw. The serious playacting he was attempting was severely undercut by the quiver of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know, man. I mean, you’ve been the one out enjoying yourself on all these various excursions with a beautiful woman by your side who you say is ‘helping you.’” He added air quotes with his fingers as he spoke the last two words.

Reid had to groan out loud at the mention of Celeste. Alex noticed, of course. He immediately turned serious.

“What’s happened?”

He really didn’t want to get into any of this. Not ever. He didn’t want to discuss Celeste at all. In fact, he didn’t even want to think about her. Because doing that would undoubtedly tempt him to seek her out and drag her back to her room where they could run a replay of last night.

Just. Stop.

It was a risk he couldn’t take.

“Nothing happened,” he fibbed to his business partner. “I just overslept.” That part was at least the truth.

Alex’s eyes narrowed on him, clearly questioning whether to accept his answer as the whole truth. Reid knew he was too sharp and would see through it without effort. He was right. “I can’t recall another time you’ve ever overslept.”

“It was bound to happen sometime.”

Alex gave a slight shrug of his shoulder. “Suit yourself. Don’t tell me, then.”

“What did I miss around here?” Reid asked, in a blatantly obvious move to change the subject.

Luckily, Alex was going to play along. “The usual,” he answered. “A few minor guest complaints. The tennis pro asked that the courts be redone. And we’re running low on chardonnay.”