But my mind isn’t on the springs right now. It's on Kate. This isn’t like her. She once spent two months deciding on a coffee maker. She worried one entire semester about what classes to choose for the following year. Now she's chosen a husband in, what? Five minutes? After a few months back in Florida? That's not enough time. Something's going on.
The look in her eyes is so panicked and pleading that a stab of genuine fear goes through me.
“Of course I'll be there.” I plaster on a smile. “I wouldn't miss it for the world. Now go back to work. Hug your mom for me. Send me the details, when you need me there and for how long. I was planning to stay in Italy another month but I can move things around. I'll fly to Orlando, rent a car, no problem.”
That's the beauty of this life. I can pack up and go whenever, wherever. The universe is my playground and all that jazz — at least, that's what I write in my captions. The playground can be a grind, but I do have the ability to pivot in case of emergency.
And this is an actual emergency.
She exhales and finally smiles. “Hang on, I'm going to put Steve down.” I watch him shuffle off. “Thank you. I'm sorelieved. I couldn't do this without you. Okay, gotta run. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The call ends, and I sink back against the cushion.
Kate's getting married.
I'd been eager for her to join me in Europe — that plan had kept me sane these past months. Traveling together, laughing through parties and events and life with my best friend. And now she's marrying thesuper sweetDamien who she's never once mentioned until today.
An indignant feeling rises in my chest.
Of course I'll be there. I need to figure out what's going on and, if necessary, gently talk her out of the worst decision of her life.
I tap over to email. That's when I notice a message from the director of a luxury eco-wellness retreat in Costa Rica — the kind of place where everything is sustainably sourced, the yoga is taught at sunrise over the rainforest canopy, and the waiting list for influencer stays is eighteen months long. I've been cultivating this relationship for almost a year. A week-long stay, for top-tier spiritual travel creators only.
My shoulders tense as I open it.
Ms. Sinclair, we are pleased to confirm your press stay at Selva Sagrada.
Oh thank goodness, please don't let it be the week of Kate's wedding…
We can host you within the next month. Will you be bringing a companion? The retreat accommodates pairs beautifully. Warmly, Valentina.
My shoulders lower from my ears. I swipe to my Google Calendar. I have plenty of time — a restaurant in Rome wants me to post about their location, which I could squeeze in beforeflying to Florida to investigate my best friend's questionable life choices.
And then get Kate on a plane to Costa Rica with me. Even if I have to wrap her in my gifted Hermès scarves and stuff her in my suitcase.
She probably fell for this Damien dude and thinks it's love. As rational as Kate is, she's not all that experienced with men. She got swept up and now thinks he's The One.
I snort out loud. This is pure feeling, clouding her usually excellent judgment. She cannot walk down the aisle, it's as simple as that.
Dear Valentina, Thank you so much. The last week of November is perfect. I will be bringing one guest. Her name is Kate Cooper.
