Kim deserved this, she’d worked hard for it—yet like everything, the success of The Sweet Life all seemed to come about so easily for her. After that summer, she’d practically fallen into her highly lucrative mindfulness guru and successful social-media-Influencer role without even trying. And with support from the right people aiding her all the way, making introductions, bankrolling her investments, everything...

Whereas Annie had to work her arse off right from the get-go, and even if she continued to expand #GlamSquad, she’d never match the giddy heights of international success Kim had achieved.

But that was life, wasn’t it? Some people just glided effortlessly through the water like swans, while others treaded water like demons just to keep afloat.

Annie looked again at the invite. The Sweet Life indeed...

No doubt this new retreat or wellness center—or whatever hippie-dippie buzzword the gullible masses lapped up these days—would also be a roaring success, especially given the location.

And she couldn’t help but wonder now what Kim had done with the crumbling old villa. She smiled fondly, recalling how dismissive she’d been of the house initially, calling it an old wreck, when Kim and even Colette had each been able to see beyond the ramshackle disrepair and visualize its former glory days.

No doubt it would be even more glorious now.

Annie exhaled. She wouldn’t be going, though—not a chance.

On the one hand she’d love to see the villa, catch up with old friends and visit old haunts, and join in celebrating the latest chapter in Kim Weston’s success story.

Yet on the other, the last thing Annie wanted was to revisit that summer that had begun so brilliantly, yet ultimately ended in tears.

Chapter 17

Then

Kim’s eyes were heavy.

The sun was blinding and her head hurt like a thousand spikes were being driven into it. She groaned as she rolled over in bed, the stale taste of alcohol tainting her tongue. Her mouth felt like cotton.

She forced an eye open. Where was she?

It was bright, way too bright, and the flimsy gauze curtains on the window stood open, allowing the sunlight free rein. The walls were a garish orange color and there were cracks like rivers across the dingy ceiling.

Painted vines with purple grapes and red-and-white flowers lined the faded trim. It took her a moment to remember where she was and what had happened the day before.

Italy.

Annie, Colette, and way too much grappa. It was all a little blurry after that, but she did remember something about dancing outside on an ancient crumbling cabana-type thing under the olive trees.

Or was that Annie? Kim wasn’t sure.

She tried to go back to sleep but rest eluded her. Her head was throbbing and the only way it was going to stop was with some pain relief and maybe some food.