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Roman was on board. ‘Give me time to head home and pick up some stuff.’
‘You got it,’ Anthony said. ‘We’ll meet at the usual spot in an hour.’
Naomi pulled Samantha into a one-arm hug. ‘Could you let the others know?’
‘No problem.’
‘Tonight’s barbecue is cancelled, too. It was a terrible idea to begin with. I should get to bed early.’
‘How about a picnic at the beach?’ Anthony proposed. ‘It was just meant to be us at the barbecue.’
‘There’s a shack at the cove that sells really good food,’ Roman said.
‘It’s settled,’ Naomi said. ‘We’ll have a picnic. Tell the others.’
Samantha whipped out her phone. ‘I’ll take care of it.’
The couple strode off, hand in hand. Samantha watched them go, a lump in her throat. Roman curled a finger around the belt loop of her shorts and pulled her close to him. ‘Come here,’ he said. ‘Let me take care of you first.’
Samantha leaned against him, her body still tender from last night.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
She nodded as she typed. ‘Looks like we’re heading back to the beach.’
‘No complaints here,’ he said. ‘I needed an excuse to spend the day with you and now I have it.’
Samantha rose onto the tip of her toes and rubbed her smooth cheek to his rugged one. ‘I love the beach, but there’s one place we haven’t been.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Guess.’
‘Give me a hint.’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘There’s a four-poster bed.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that. We’ll make it there.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘After the wedding?’
‘The perfect time. I’ll be wearing a tie. It’ll come in handy.’
Friday 15 August, 8.45 a.m.
Sam’s phone to Hugo, Jasmine, Jen
Samantha:Please be advised that the rehearsal and subsequent rehearsal barbecue at No Man’s Land are cancelled.
Hugo:WHAT NOW? Jasmine: What’s going on?
Samantha:The Connecticut contingent sent word they missed their flight. They won’t make it until tomorrow.
Hugo:Forget blogging. You should go into PR.
