The first view of Inner-G Resort and Spa was impressive—fountains, flowers, stonework. The centerpiece of the lobby was alife-size portrait of Jasmine and the Big G. Or maybe it was bigger than life-size because they looked larger than life.
Aspen noticed Gabby staring and said, “That’s their wedding portrait.”
“It’s, uh, nice,” Gabby said. In the portrait, they were standing on a rocky outcropping with the waves crashing at their feet, looking unbothered by anything. They were the model union, the model marriage, not to mention actual models.
“How are we going to find the Power Couples Retreat?” Gabby asked.
If this were a retreat at a Marriott in Cleveland, there would be a banner that readPOWER COUPLESwith lanyards and agendas printed on colorful paper with stock photos of smiling couples in pant suits.
Aspen just laughed. “You’ll figure it out.”
Gabby glanced over her shoulder as she walked across the open-air lobby to check if Genesis’s eyes were following her.
“I heard that they used vials of their blood to tint the paint red.” Aspen smiled and, without missing a beat, went on, “We grow and dry our own sage for burning. It has extra cleansing properties.”
A guy in an old T-shirt, shorts, and a dazed look, like he had just emerged from a spiritual journey in a tent, held out a tray of bright green shots of liquid. “Would you like a G-shot?”
“This is Dave.” Aspen introduced the guy offering the green juice. “He owns an airplane company, but he’s doing his service to G this week.”
“Nice to meet you, but no thanks,” Gabby said, being of the firm opinion that green was for salads.
Markus flashed a look, reminding her that she wasn’t Gabby. She was Gia.
“On second thought,” she said, “thank you.” As she held it up to her lips, a pungent odor hit her nose. “What did you say this was?”
“I’m going to check in, babe,” Markus said, downing his G-shot in one gulp.
“It’s a juice shot packed with radical molecules.”
Gabby blinked back. She touched her tongue to the liquid. She would describe it as crude oil in texture and taste. “What’s it for?”
“It helps you tap into your Inner-G.” The man said it like he was speaking the truth.
“Does it boost metabolism?” Because that’s the only way she was interested.
“And don’t forget to check in your phone,” Dave reminded them. “Leave it at the front desk, and it’ll be here for you when you leave.”
“Of course. I can’t wait to get rid of that thing,” Gabby said, her phone tucked safely in her purse with the ringer off.
“You’ll be a new person without that thing sucking the lifeforce out of you. Clear thoughts, less anxiety, fewer insecurities.”
Gabby laughed like she agreed. There was no way she was letting go of her phone. It was bad enough that she had left the kids for a week, but to be out of contact—not acceptable.
Aspen said, “I hope you’ll enjoy the honeymoon cottage.”
Gabby choked on the last sip of radical molecules. The honeymoon cottage? There was no way she was going to swallow. Instead of coughing/vomiting the juice out, she spit it into a potted bamboo right in front of Markus and the front desk attendant.
Markus rubbed her back. “You okay?”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t swallow, so I decided to just spit it out.”
Aspen smiled in amusement. “That’s a choice we all have to make.”
Jesus, Aspen. Gabby started choking again.
Markus squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. Why don’t you just catch your breath?”
As Gabby agreed, Aspen handed the key to their door to Markus and an egg-shaped crystal to Gabby.
