CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Less than seven days later and I eat my previous words. The Serenity Spa at Arizona’s Camelback Mountain is pretty awesome.
“It’s so hot, but like… not hot,” Marissa whines and flips over in her lounge chair.
She’s not exaggerating. Arizona is hot at the end of June. Even under the large canopy that provides us with shade, the temperature is scorching. My skin feels ready to melt away from my bones like in the ending of that Indiana Jones movie, but I’m not sweating.
Still it’s Arizona and I’m at a spa. Heat blisters are a small price to pay. I wouldn’t be here at all if Aspen hadn’t hounded me this week. The cost of airline tickets to Arizona wasn’t horrible, but more than I could spend. Aspen offered to pay for my ticket, but I’m not one to accept help for a spa weekend. I’m not sure I’d accept help for much of anything.
They were unable to talk me into it until Ryland, decided his wife couldn’t fly coach and rented out an entire private plane. There was back-and-forth between them about how much luggage you’re supposed to bring on a private plane, but after they settled that argument, I let her pressure me. She won me over because the seat was covered regardless of how many people they flew to Arizona.
Plus, come on, it’s a private plane. Judge me if you must, but this trip is my only chance to ride in one. It was smaller than a regular plane but bigger than the little two seaters you always hear about crashing. Although, much to my disappointment it didn’t look like the tricked out one fromAustin Powers. There wasn’t even a bed.
The death-defying ride was totally worth it because now, in the not so far distance, our backdrop is the Arizona Camelback Mountain. It’s not huge, but definitely something pretty in the view. I didn’t know Arizona had a mountain. This may reflect my less than stellar grades in geography.
With Amanda missing from our small group — off getting a mud bath treatment — we’ve stationed ourselves under the canopy next to the pool. I’ve opted out of any of the expensive spa treatments, but have no problem spending my Saturday resting in the shade. It’s simply relaxing and with everything else going on in my life that’s all I need.
Marissa spritzes herself with a bottle of water and a few droplets land on my leg. I brush them off and lean back in the chair with my eyes closed. The heat gently sways me into sleepy bliss.
“I think Finn and I are getting married.”
For a brief moment silence rules and then a small frenzy happens. My eyes fly open and I sit up at the same time as Simone and Marissa. The three of us lean over in our seats while Aspen continues lounging like she didn’t drop a bombshell seconds ago.
“What?” Simone puts her feet on the ground about to jump up and shake her. “Did he ask you?”
“Where’s the ring?” Marissa’s eyes track her best friend, searching her entire body because maybe she thinks Aspen is hiding it from us.
Aspen’s skin turns a light shade of pink not from the Arizona heat. “No ring. He hasn’t asked, but we talked about him asking.”
“You talked about it? You two are so weird,” Marissa says, forgetting we know the details of how her husband proposed… naked. She might have forgotten telling us, but I will for sure never forget hearing the story. “Besides I thought you wanted the whole day. Wear the white dress, release a few doves, smash cake on one another kind of wedding?”
Aspen sighs. “I thought I wanted one of the big weddings, but I have no family besides Ben and you guys. Finn’s an only child. After your Vegas wedding, eloping sounds like a reasonable option.”
“Is that so, Miss I’ll never get to wear a bridesmaid’s dress?” Marissa pops a single eyebrow up in Aspen’s direction.
“Don’t cock your eyebrow at me.” Aspen sticks her hand in her glass of water and flicks some on Marissa. “Plus if we do a big wedding we’ll be expected to invite all of Finn’s investors. They’ll want caviar or disgusting shit like that. The whole affair will become a circus. It’s tiring thinking about thinking about it.”
Marissa picks up her magazine and flips the page, back to her relaxed lounging position. “Yeah and you planning a big wedding would be worse than setting Godzilla on the wedding industry.”
Uh-oh.
“What’s that mean?” Aspen asks.
Marissa lowers her magazine and gives her a pointed look. “We love you, sweetie, but sometimes you’re a bit… um… dramatic.”
Aspen’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “I am not.”
Marissa flips another magazine page. “Aspen,” she says exasperated, “you found out your boyfriend was a bazillionaire and dumped him for it.”
This is a story I’ve definitely never heard. Who would dump a guy for being rich?
Oh.
Wait.
Me… maybe. But there were circumstances.
“You dumped Finn when you found out he had money?” I ask.
