Julia marched up the path from the gazebo, back to the hotel. She could have stayed and talked to Luke. Demanded answers. But what good would that do? He’d had the chance to be honest with her and had chosen to snake around the truth.
How did that saying go? “Fool me once…”
No. It wasn’t worth risking her heart to hear more excuses. When she’d first made the connection between Luke and Penelope, she’d been so quick to accept their explanations. She’d capitulated so easily. Because she wanted to. She still wanted to. Even when she knew this had all been a game to him.
Was she the reviewer? Yes, you bet your sweet ass she was. And she was ready to purge her emotions in a scathing review.
But by the time Julia reached her room, she’d reconsidered that plan. Even in the midst of her anger, she knew she was better than that. She may not have the intestinal fortitude to stick around and face Luke, but she wasn’t going to rip apart this resort just because her feelings had been hurt.
Having talked herself down from engaging in petty revenge journalism, Julia decided she couldn’t sit in her hotel room and brood. This was her last night here. She should grab a drink at the bar downstairs or take a walk along the beach. Maybe do both. She ditched the heels she’d been wearing to play magician’s assistant and slipped on some sandals.
Two perfectly chilled glasses of buttery chardonnay later, Julia was feeling more chill. Her legs were a little buttery, too. She slipped off the bar stool and wandered onto the hotel terrace for some fresh air.
Outside, the summer night was alive with conversation and laughter. Couples were seated at quaint candlelit tables, enjoying soft music and a sweet breeze blowing in from the lake. Julia’s smile was bittersweet as she soaked in the romantic atmosphere. It would have been lovely to spend time here with Luke this evening.
A pang of acute loneliness hit her. But it went deeper than simply wishing she was with Luke tonight. Her reaction to his subterfuge stemmed from more than her disappointment at being lied to—and she recognized he hadn’t outright lied, just withheld relevant information. Julia wasn’t such a hypocrite that she could ignore the fact that she’d done the same. She’d let him believe Kat was the reviewer.
That’s what hurt most—that, given the opportunity to be fully honest with each other, they’d both chosen to hide. To play pretend. How could any meaningful relationship develop with such a false foundation? It was a house of cards. And that’s what she was really mourning. Not just losing the chance to spend her last night here with Luke but also losing the chance at having something more with him, something that went beyond this week of fantasy.
She hadn’t known where things were going to go with Luke after this week ended, but the possibility had been there. Now that possibility was gone, hope for something more snuffed out like one of the candles dotting the tables, lighting the blissful faces of the couples all around her.
With an indulgent sigh of self-pity, Julia walked to the edge of the terrace and propped her elbows on the ledge. The twilight sky was magnificent, a blurred mesh of indigo and violet over the lake. In addition to the lovebirds on the terrace, more couples strolled along the beach below.
Julia had no way of knowing how many of the pairings were made here as part of the fun and how many had arrived together like David and Patrick or Harry and Sally, but everyone seemed so content. How could she write a review tearing this place down when it delivered exactly what it promised? As upset as she was, she couldn’t deny that all week long she’d felt like she was living in a romantic comedy, even as she actively tried to dismiss those feelings.
Lost in her thoughts, she continued to scan the beach, enjoying a bit of people watching. Someone had built a bonfire on the shore, and as she looked closer, she realized the couple snuggling in front of the cozy-looking blaze was Andie and Curt—and they seemed cozy, indeed. Their faces were glowing, and from more than the flames.
Julia noted that while he’d ditched the veil, Curt was still in his bridal dress from the dance number. She grinned, laughing softly. A quiet joy lit inside her for her friend. Curt wasn’t like any of the guys Andie typically went for … he was much closer to their age. In fact, he might even be younger than they were, silly and carefree. He was unpolished, a bit rough around the edges, and from what little Julia knew of his life, it seemed far from set.
Andie usually got involved with men who had retirement funds and corporate haircuts. Julia wasn’t sure why her friend was drawn to that type. Was it a yearning for stability? Andie’s parents had a great relationship. Julia and Kat had often discussed how they envied their friend and the kind of household she grew up in—with parents who loved and respected each other. She knew that appearances weren’t everything, but as far as she could tell, Andie’s parents’ marriage was as happy and real as it seemed.
True, Andie’s dad was several years older than her mother, and she did have two much older stepbrothers … Julia blinked. For the first time, it finally clicked. Consciously or unconsciously, Andie was following in her mother’s footsteps and choosing to date men like her father. How had Julia never made that connection before? It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but it did cut Andie off from playing the field a bit more, from seeing what else was out there.
Here, in the safety of the rom-com fantasy bubble, Andie had allowed herself to be open to new possibilities—and in doing so had opened her heart. If Julia needed proof that Notting Hill could provide the experience people who love romantic comedies wished for, her friend’s budding opposites-attract relationship was a prime example.
Mentally sidestepping dissecting her own budding relationship—one that had been nipped in the bud before it could fully blossom—Julia’s thoughts turned to Kat. She wondered how things were going with Zach. His unexpected appearance tonight had been wildly romantic, if a tad cheesy. Besides, Julia had already discovered she had a penchant for romances with extra cheese.
As if her thoughts had conjured her friend, Kat came running up the stone steps of the terrace. Julia took one look at Kat’s tear-streaked face and knew whatever had happened, those were not happy tears. She shifted away from her spot at the ledge and met Kat at the top of the stairs, holding out her arms for a hug.
Upstairs in the Princess Suite, after commandeering a bottle of that chardonnay from the bar, Julia poured them each a glass while Kat shared what happened with Zach after their dramatic exit from the stage.
“I knew he was an actor. That part didn’t bother me. I was perfectly happy to let him shower me in attention for a week.” Kat took a gulp of her wine. “Oh, wow, that’s good.” She sniffed and downed the rest.
“Easy there,” Julia warned. “I had two glasses earlier, and it’s good, but it’s also strong.” She refilled Kat’s glass, asking gently, “So what went wrong?”
“You and Andie believed Zach was assigned to me because the hotel assumed I was the reviewer. But I convinced myself he was spending time with me because he wanted to.” Kat shrugged, sipping her second glass more slowly. “I didn’t tell you this before, but last night, when we finally got stuck in the elevator together, I asked him about it.”
“You asked Zach if he knew you were the reviewer?”
“He admitted he’d heard something. And you were right. That girl, Penelope—the game master or whatever—did assign him to me. But Zach said none of that mattered because he enjoyed being with me. And then one thing led to another, and you know what happened after that.” Kat blushed.
“I’m confused,” Julia admitted. “How did we go from making out in an elevator last night to you crying as you ran up the steps tonight?” She paused, a suspicion forming. “That whole Johnny Castle routine … You don’t think the hotel planned it, do you? Oh, God. What if they fake fired him?”
“I wish that was what happened,” Kat said ruefully. “Then maybe I might feel less pathetic.” She sank lower into the plush cushions. “I thought he came back because he cared for me. He wasn’t working for the resort anymore, so his motivation had to be pure, right?”
“I’m sensing this is a rhetorical question,” Julia said carefully.
“Give the lady a prize.” Kat’s tone was bitter. “He came back because of that stupid review. After we left the stage, I thought we were going to have a romantic night, maybe finish what we started in the elevator … but all he wanted to do was talk about TrendList.” Kat knocked back the rest of her wine. “Kept going on about what a fabulous performance our dance had been and wasn’t I blown away by his surprise entrance at the talent show. You would not believe how many times he asked me if I wanted to write his name down so I would spell it right in the review. Spoiler alert—it was a lot.”
“Oh, Kat.” Julia’s heart ached at the defeated note in her friend’s voice, the way she seemed to shrink into herself. “I’m so sorry.”
“At first, I thought it was me, you know? My typical need to self-sabotage.”
Julia began to protest, but Kat stopped her.
“You know I do it; don’t try and pretend otherwise.” Kat shook her head. “It’s a game I play with myself. Some misguided attempt to avoid disappointment. I date jerks because I know, in the end, things will never work out. And that’s how it started with Zach. Why not have some fun with a hot guy in a relationship that I know is fake from the start?”
“And then you started to fall for him?” Julia guessed.
“Don’t I always?” Kat asked. “In case it wasn’t clear, that was another rhetorical question,” she added drily. “It doesn’t matter how obviously wrong a guy is for me, I always end up falling for him. In fact, I think the worse he is for me, the harder I fall.” A burst of mocking laughter escaped her. “How do I expect to find Mr. Right if I’m always chasing after Mr. Wrong?”
Julia wasn’t sure what to say to that. She knew Kat didn’t want or need platitudes. She needed a friend. An honest one. “It’s true, your track record isn’t the greatest…”
“That’s putting it nicely,” Kat said, grimacing. “My radar is broken. I’m broken.”
“You are not broken.” Julia set her wineglass down and scooted closer.
Kat stared into her empty glass, twirling the stem between her fingers. “Growing up, the way my parents treated each other … the way they treated me…” She swallowed. “I don’t think I know how to love someone right.” She looked at Julia, blue eyes filled with a tired sadness, a world-weary acceptance more suited to someone way beyond her years. “I don’t think I know what love looks like or what it should feel like.”
“Bullshit,” Julia declared.
Kat blinked.
“You do have a tendency to fall for guys who are wrong for you. I’m not going to argue with you there.” Julia took Kat’s glass and set it aside, then reached for her friend’s hand. “But I think maybe your choices have less to do with your ‘radar’ and more to do with the fact that you don’t believe you deserve love.”
Julia expected Kat to get defensive. Instead, she cocked her head, face guarded but curious.
“You think you don’t deserve better than the jerks you pick to date, and that’s simply not true. You have such a big heart. I’ve seen it over and over again in our friendship. You think you don’t know how to love? I say that’s bullshit, because I know otherwise. I’ve seen it in the love you give to me and Andie. The love you have for your grandmother…”
“I do love you both, and I love my babcia—I’d be lost without her, without you—but that’s different than romantic love.” Kat pulled her hand out of Julia’s grasp, studying her fingers. “I got into the floral business because I enjoyed helping make the special moments in peoples’ lives feel even more special. Flowers are supposed to be the language of love. I thought I’d see proof of love all the time.” She shrugged. “And sometimes, I do. But more often, I see assholes sending Sorry for banging the secretary; it will never happen again bouquets to their wives while simultaneously ordering Thanks for the awesome BJ; let’s do it again soon bouquets for said secretaries.”
“You’re right. There are a lot of assholes out there,” Julia agreed. “I have to admit my own faith in romantic love is at an all-time low right now.”
“Why?” Kat straightened, brows furrowed with concern. “Did something happen with Luke?”
Julia laughed and refilled both their glasses.
“That bad, huh?” Kat asked. She picked up her wine, swirling the golden liquid. “Well, I’ve got no other plans tonight, so why don’t you tell me all about it.”
Whether it was the booze, the fact that misery loved company, or the simple peace of unpacking her sorrows with a dear friend, as Julia shared the details of how her own evening had taken a wrong turn, her heartache eased a bit, the weight of her thoughts lightened, and the long night ahead became a little brighter.