I smile, drag an arm across my damp brow. “Hope you didn’t have to wait long.”

“I saw you go.”

“So what are you doing today?” I ask, wiping sweat on the back of my shorts.

“Hoping I can convince you to go do something with me.” His eyes are narrowed, and he’s inspecting me again, looking me up and down. “God, you’re perfect, baby. Just look at you. I haven’t seen a woman this natural in… well… ever.”

“I should go shower.”

“How about a helicopter tour later?”

“I don’t think so.”

“A dinner cruise?”

“Butch.”

“What, baby?”

“I thought we were just going to have a drink by the pool. Keep it low-key. I’m here to relax, take it easy this week.”

“Baby, I just want you happy.”

“I’ll be happy if you don’t pressure me.”

He raises his hands. “No pressure. Just a drink and sun and fun.”

The elevator arrives, and I get in and think I could strangle Anne right now. She should be here, dealing with Butch. She should be fighting off his moves, not me.

At the pool, I try to get into my book before I can be disturbed. I’m not going to look up, I vow, not going to make eye contact.

Look bitchy, I tell myself, look mean and unapproachable.

But Butch must like mean and unapproachable because he and his cronies are spreading their towels and magazines and bottles of suntan lotion on lounge chairs all around me.

I smile politely at Butch before returning my attention to my book, thinking maybe, just maybe, I can convince him to leave me alone if I don’t respond to him.

I didn’t come to Hawaii to meet a man. This was a girls’ escape. Anne and I were going to chill. Relax. Celebrate my (ugh) birthday.

We were going to lie in the sun and read all the novels we’ve been collecting by our beds, get massages, facials, enjoy glasses of wine over late dinners. It was going to be fun, but girls’ fun, and now without Anne I’m struggling to redefine that fun.

I’m staying at a luxe hotel filled with luxe people, and this, I think, turning a page in my book, is what my world has become—a lifestyle. Polished, expensive people who love polished, expensive things.

Nothing rough or rustic anymore.

Nothing unplanned, unexpected, unpalatable. Only the best money can buy.

Including my divorce.

I go to lunch and return to find that Butch has pulled his lounge chair even closer to mine. I pretend not to notice and immediately settle back down with my book, closing my eyes when I sense Butch looking at me.