“Love you, sis.”
“Love you too, you pest,” she signs off.
God, I’m grateful for my sister. It helps to have talked to someone who knows me, who understands me, and whose opinion I trust. Someone who is one hundred percent in my corner.
Feeling more in control of my emotions, I head back down the cliffs to the resort. There’s little more than an hour before the guests will be heading up the hill to the wedding venue. I have no time to waste because if Warren thinks he’s going to have the last word, he’s got another thing coming. And once that’s done, I need to work out a way to win Lilavati back. Losing her now is not an option.
I’m still in my clammy wetsuit, covered in sand and salt. Mindful that Jos suggested I give Lil space, and she’s likely still getting ready in our suite, I head to the resort gym and spa. Toiletries are laid on and I have everything I need for a decent shower. Rather than put my salty board shorts back on, I nick one of their towelling robes and sneak into the foyer via the back stairs, keeping an eye out to make sure I don’t run into theenemy. I need somewhere private to wait until everyone is off up the hill to the wedding.
Normally, reception would refuse to give out the room number of a guest, but the concierge is a surfer and admires my boards, so he puts in a good word for me, and two minutes later, I’m knocking on Grandie’s door.
She’s all dressed and ready to go when she opens up. And it’s clear she’s heard at least part of what’s happened.
“Good Lord, young man. You certainly know how to stir the pot, don’t you?”
I sit on one of the dining chairs, careful to keep the robe pulled closed. That would be the icing on the cake if I flashed Grandie and caused her to have a heart attack.
“I hope you know that what Warren said is untrue.” No point mincing words. Grandie doesn’t.
“None of it?” she asks, with that eyebrow arch she shares with Lil.
“Well, yes, I am looking for an investor. But I’m pretty confident I’ve got one lined up. I’m expecting to hear from him any day now. And for the record, even if that wasn’t the case, Warren Gordon is the last person I would do business with.”
“Why didn’t you tell Lili this?”
“She didn’t give me the chance,” I start.
Grandie gives me ‘the look’ that all mothers and grandmothers seem to have perfected. The one that screamslie to yourself all you want, but don’t try lying to me,dumbarse.
“Okay, maybe I wanted her to believe me, not Warren. She didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. Just assumed everything he’d said was true. When he’s proved over and over, all her life, he’s not on her side, and I’ve done nothing but support her.”
When I put it like that, I sound a little pathetic, but there you have it.
“So you allowed pride and hurt to get in the way of your relationship. Rather like someone else we know.” Grandie raises her eyebrows, inviting me to buy a clue.
She’s right. Both Sparky and I allowed our emotions to get in the way of real communication.
“You were aware my granddaughter is sharp-tongued and quick-tempered. Are you going to let that stop you now?”
“No. No, I am not.” I stand, tightening the terry towelling belt of the robe in an attempt to look in control. “I’m going to fight for Lilavati until the bitter end because she’s worth it.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Grandie smiles and pats my shoulder as she stands. Her phone chirps. She checks it and rolls her eyes, picks up a small purse from the table. “If you’re thinking of turning up at the wedding, I’d put some clothes on first. I have to go. I’m required by bridezilla’s mother. You’re welcome to wait here till the coast is clear. Twenty minutes should do it.”
“Thanks, Grandie.”
I leave Grandie’s suite fifteen minutes later in hopes of catching at least a glimpse of Lil. As I sneak around the corner of the foyer, I see the last wedding guests, including Lilavati, boarding the luxury coach taking them to the Pineapple Chapel. She’s too far away to be able to make out her expression, but her shoulders are slumped, her movements sluggish. She’s all alone, but at least she’s not with her parents.
As soon as the bus disappears up the drive, I leg it to our suite.
It smells of frangipani. And of Lil.
The bathroom bin is overflowing with scrunched-up tissues, painful evidence of Lil’s heartache. The counter is littered withmake-up brushes and pins and tubes and tubs. Most unlike Lilavati, who always leaves things precise and organised.
I debate whether to pack my stuff up and move to another room. Not to give up, but to give Lilavati some space in which to think this shitty situation through. I don’t want to pressure her the way Warren has always done. But Jos said not to give her enough time to catastrophise, so I’m staying.
If she wants me to move out once we’ve talked, I will. What I won’t be doing is giving up.
Regardless, I have somewhere to be first.
