Page 148

“Still in there.” Annie lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Apparently she got… you know… her hunk. And Isabelle decided she should extend her massage.”

Both of them glanced at the closed door.

“Wow… Go, Mama,” Sage said quietly.

“Yeah,” Annie agreed, smiling.

A little while later, the three of them lounged in the large private Jacuzzi, the warm, bubbling water wrapping around them like a living embrace. Soft jets pulsed gently against their backs, filling the air with the soft gurgle of water and the lingering scent of eucalyptus and lavender. Sage sighed for the fifth time, sinking deeper until the water lapped at her collarbones.

“This is awesome…”

“Yeah, awesome,” Annie echoed dreamily beside her.

“We should do this more.”

“Yeah… more.”

“I feel great.”

“Yeah, great.”

Isabelle laughed, splashing a wave of warm water over both of them. “You two… Okay, we definitely need to come back more often.”

Annie and Sage looked at each other and burst into giggles. “Yeah. More often.”

Suddenly, they all quieted as Mary Sue stepped into the room, her robe slipping from her shoulders. She looked completely at ease, her body surprisingly fit and glowing with relaxation, a tiny satisfied smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Mama, did you enjoy your massage?” Sage asked, grinning.

Mary Sue lowered herself slowly into the steaming water with a contented hum, the heat swallowing her up. She settled across from Isabelle and said, “I’m sorry ahead of time, but we’re gonna have to tip my therapist a bit extra.”

Isabelle leaned back against the pulsing jets, eyes closed, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “Oh? Was he that good?”

Mary Sue’s smirk deepened. “Yup… Also, I may have pinched his butt a few times.”

Sage and Annie gasped in unison, eyes wide.

“Mama!”

Isabelle just chuckled, low and warm. “Good.”

After several moments of quiet, broken only by the gentle bubbling of the water, Sage murmured, “I wonder what Cal is doing…”

“Thinking of you, baby girl,” Mary Sue said softly.

Sage turned to her, heart squeezing. “You think so, Mama?”

“Yes, honey… I know so.”

Lunch was in a private dining room off the main spa corridor — low, golden lighting, crisp white tablecloths, and a menu with no prices because if you had to ask, you definitely didn’t belong.

Sage opened hers and stared.

“There are words on this menu,” she said, “that I do not recognize.”

“That’s French,” Isabelle said.

“This one?”