Chapter 1
The cruise shipS.S. Bird of Paradise looms above me like a humpback whale as I scan the arriving crowd for my best girlfriend in the whole wide world.
A few days ago, she was my maid of honor.
Now, she’s my ex-maid of honor through no fault of her own. My wedding was canceled last minute. Yep. Story of my life.
When the going gets tough, Dani Davison, that’s me, goes AWOL.
Not that Stephen wasn’t the perfect man for me. Oh no, he’s just a little too perfect from his manicured nails to his punctual to-the-second schedule.
I was on pins and needles the entire time I planned my picture-perfect wedding. Every ‘i’ had to be dotted, every ‘t’ crossed, and the accounting details had to be spread-sheeted and cross-checked to the nth degree.
He was the perfect man: intelligent, articulate, and successful. A complete package put together in Italian suits complete with cufflinks and ties. But when you’re that kind of perfect, you tend to demand perfection in a wife.
Should have thought about that before I crashed his bachelor’s party asthestripper. But then, how was I to know my perfect man had no sense of humor?
Sigh.
Here I am, right before Christmas, alone again, imperfectly.
Speaking of alone. Where is Jade?
True to maid-of-honor form, she exchanged my deluxe wedding package, held at her family’s top of the marquee hotel, for a Christmas cruise to Hawaii.
Twelve days and nights aboard the S.S. Bird of Paradise, including three days at sea to get away from it all, then island hopping from the Big Island to Kauai.
Just the two of us girls, shopping ’til we drop, spa treatments, sunning by the pool during the day, and dancing the nights away with each other.
It’ll be the bachelorette party I didn’t get and balm for her soul since the Navy SEAL she met at her tropical getaway six months ago went AWOL.
No calls.
No letters.
No text messages.
Nothing.
Both of us need bestie therapy here, and here I am.
Just yesterday, I said to her,if he doesn’t come to you, definitely don’t contact him.She doesn’t disagree, but she gives me that secret smile as if she has something up her sleeve.
Wishful thinking.
So, where is she?
I’m in the terminal checking my luggage, scanning the departure area for her long, silky hair and large sunglasses. She had a last-minute romance writer’s conference: sign a few books, meet and greet her fans, and drool over the hunky, male cover models.
I don’t enjoy those types of meet and greets, and even though I’m a voice-over artist who reads audiobooks for romance authors, I prefer to hide behind my mic in the privacy of my sound studio and let my voice be my brand.
I can sound breathless and sexy while reading the steamiest love scenes, but no one would ever guess from looking at me that I’m the voice moaning and sighing in imagined ecstasy.
Don’t get me wrong.
I’m not an unattractive woman.
After all, I passed two long years as Stephen Sommers’s arm candy. My long, brown hair is wavy enough to be conservatively sensual, and it always behaves, never frizzy or tangled. My pale, smooth skin is unmarred by even a single freckle, and my willowy figure is shaped and toned by brutal CrossFit workouts.
