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through all of it.
    It’s not her fault I’m so messed up.
    I shake my head and my perfectly straight hair gently laps at my face.
    “Snap out of it!”
    And then I paint on my trademark smile and after a few seconds, it’s real.
    I’m going on a date with Vaughn Asher .
    When I glance at the clock it’s quarter to nine and I decide to head out early just in case I get lost. I sorta know where the Sunset Cove Beach is—on the other side of the lazy river—but I’m not sure which path to take to get there.
    When I open the door the fragrant flowers mixed with the sea air bathe me in peace. This place really is something else. It’s one of the oldest resorts on the island, but they take very good care of it. All the bungalows are updated with modern fixtures and electronics, the staff is friendly and attentive, and all the pools and beaches are immaculate. Never in a million years would I be able to afford this vacation.
    Hell, I’m pretty sure this one is even out of Bebe’s price range now that she’s on her own. Her family is not super rich, but they are well-off. And Bebe had every opportunity growing up. But her parents believe in hard work and pulling yourself up on your own. Her family paychecks stopped the day she graduated from med school last May. She’s adjusted well. Not like some trust-fund kids. She knew it was coming and planned for it all through undergrad and when she was accepted into the physical therapy program at the University of Colorado Health Science Center, she roomed with three other students in a crappy neighborhood the entire time. She saved most of her living expenses and now that she’s an actual licensed physical therapist with an actual paying job at a local gym in Denver, all that scrimping and saving is gonna pay off.
    My life was not so easy. I’m a few years younger than Bebe, and I have never aspired to a PhD like her. But I’m not doing too bad. I went to Colorado Mountain College, a small two-year school up in the Rocky Mountains where they specialize in hotel management, resort management, restaurant management—all kinds of recreational management, in fact. As well as culinary training, renewable energy and event planning.
    That’s what I do. I’m an event planner.
    Yes, like weddings and stuff. But I was mostly hired to plan parties, not weddings. You have to work up to that level of responsibility. My professional life the past few years was mostly Super Bowl parties and bar mitzvahs, but I’ve been doing more and more weddings the past several months and I’m really good at it. I just got a new job and that is a huge step up for me.
    I feel like my life is finally starting. Like the past is behind me.
    All this deep thinking has me turned around on the winding paths and for a moment my heart beats fast at the thought of being lost out here in the dark. Silverware clanks on plates off to the right, so I take that path to try and get my bearings.
    The path turns a corner abruptly and I find myself staring at an extravagant sit-down dinner party. There are several dozen round tables covered in white tablecloths and fancy place settings. Hundreds of guests, at least. All dressed to the nines in what I’d call summer formal. Cream-colored suits, crisp white shirts, flowing linen dresses, hair up in sparkling pins, and everything has a feel of being light and airy. Like these people are all caught up in a summer breeze.
    It’s a gorgeous event. There’s a path that surrounds the party and I walk along it, trying my best to remain unnoticed and invisible. I take stock of the fine china, the silver on the table, the cut of the crystal that the fresh flowers are sitting in. I notice the engraved place cards, the subtle lighting, the flowing curtains of the large tent where a band is setting up for a night of dancing. Out here in the dining area there is a string quartet playing soft melodies that allow you to enjoy the music without it being overpowering.
    This event