“Ryan?” Samantha gasps, looking as shocked as I feel. “How...?”
“I can’t believe it,” I say, my heart leaping. “How the hell are you here?” I glance down and notice the clipboard in Samantha’s hand—and suddenly, the fruitlessness of the past three months makes perfect sense to me. “Youworkhere? Oh my God, you quit Delta and now you work at this resort?”
Samantha looks absolutely stricken. Panicked, I’d even say. She turns to the woman standing next to her. “Could you excuse us for a moment, Marnie?”
The woman nods and leaves.
Samantha trains her panicked gaze on me. “I don’t understand how you’re here.”
I can’t wipe the smile off my face. “It’s fate. My sister’s getting married here. I’ll be at this hotel all week for her—”
“Ryan!” my mother’s voice sings out behind my shoulder.
I glance to my right to find my mother gliding toward me, a key-card in her hand and a huge smile on her lovely face. “I got your room key, Rummy-o,” Mom says gaily. “Your dad’s over there talking to Uncle Mikey about golf so I—” Her eyes land on Samantha and she squeals with glee and throws her arms around her—and, for the second time in thirty seconds, the world is warping and buckling around me.
My mother knows Samantha?
“It’s so good to see you, honey!” Mom says, squeezing Samantha tightly.
I’ve never been so confused in my entire life. How the fuck does my mom know Samantha?
“Hello, Mrs. Morgan,” Samantha says, returning Mom’s hug as I stand aside, my mouth agape and my mind completely blown.
“Momma Lou, remember?” Mom says, wagging her finger playfully at Samantha. “We had a deal, remember?”
Samantha’s eyes flicker to me briefly and then back to my mother. “Yes, of course,” she says, looking remarkably like a caged animal. “Momma Lou.”
Mom slides her arm around my waist, nuzzles into my side, and gives me a squeeze. “I’m so glad you’ve finally met my wonderful son I was telling you about.”
Samantha’s eyes flicker nervously between me and my mother. “No, not yet. He just now walked over to introduce himself.”
Mom’s eyes light up. “You mean to tell me Ryan saw you across this crowded lobby and headed straight for you? Ha! Do I know my son or what?” She giggles. “This is the son I told you about at the party—the one I was sure would want to meet you.” Mom looks at me and beams a massive smile at me. “So you saw this beautiful woman and headed straight for her, huh?”
Samantha’s cheeks flush.
“Well, for goodness sakes, let me introduce you,” Mom says. She turns to Samantha, smiling. “Tessa, this my son, Ryan.”
Tessa? Did my mom just call Samantha “Tessa”?
Mom continues, “Ryan’s a very successful commercial real estate broker in Seattle and, like I told you at the party, he’s a truly wonderful person—and I’m not just saying that because he’s my son. He’s one of those people everyone always falls in love with.” She graces me with a lovely smile. “And, Ryan, sweetheart, this is my lovely friend, Tessa. She’s—”
Loud applause and raucous cheers erupt in the crowd behind us, and all three of us turn toward the source of the hoopla to find Josh standing on a bench, commanding the crowd’s attention with a drink in his hand. “Alooooha, Morgans!” he booms, holding up his drink with a huge smile on his face.
“Aloha!” everyone shouts in reply, raising their drinks.
Josh says a whole bunch of stuff I can barely process, most of it expressing his elation to be joining “the coolest family in the world,” and then he says with great flourish: “So, without further ado, let’s get The Mighty T-Rod up here to give you a brief overview of the week so we can get this party started!”
I glance around the room, curious to finally lay eyes on this purportedly “gorgeous” personal assistant I keep hearing about, and much to my complete and utter shock, none other than Samantha begins gliding across the room toward Josh.
Holy fuck. My jaw just clanked onto the floor. Samantha is...T-Rod?
Samantha steps up onto the bench next to Josh and flashes the crowd an incredibly fake smile. “Hi, everyone,” she says, her voice tight. She waves and raises a drink, but her eyes are blazing with obvious distress.
“Hi, T-Rod!” everyone booms back to her. Well, everyone except me, of course. I can’t speak. Or move. Or breathe. Or pick my jaw up off the floor. In fact, I can’t even muster enough brain-power to blink my eyes.
Samantha or T-Rod orTessa... or whatever the fuck her name is... proceeds to babble about I-have-no-fucking-idea-what. I think she’s talking about the itinerary for the coming week? But... I’m... not... sure.Mind. Fuck. Mind. Fuck. Mind. Fuck.Samantha is T-Rod? Josh’s personal assistant? Henn hacked intoninemotherfucking airline databases to find a woman who’s Josh’s fucking personal assistant?Mind. Fuck. Mind. Fuck. Mind. Fuck.Why the fuck was she wearing a flight attendant uniform that night? Is she a sociopath? Did she think she was Leonardo Fucking DiCaprio inCatch Me If You Can?
I clench my jaw.
