“And good news! We have it here in our records that you called a couple of weeks ago to see about upgrading your room, and we were able to free up a villa with private plunge pool for your stay. These are really hard to come by—the villas are our most exclusive accommodations.”

“Oh, that’s great news,” I said, feigning excitement. Then I kicked into investigator mode, like one of the characters on my show, trying to solve the riddle of how I came to receive this phone call. I had made the original reservation back in March, and that must be why they had my office number in their records. Dave must have made this upgrade request, but they’d messed up the call-back number.

I closed my eyes and felt the tears start to well up. Dave was not only still going to the wedding, but he had also requested this special villa. It wasn’t something that a low-key guy like him, who was happy to stay in a Holiday Inn Express most of the time, would usually do. He was trying to impress someone. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe he was taking someone on our trip.

I imagined him with a willowy date in a formfitting dress, mingling at one of the pre-wedding festivities with margaritas in their hands, both of them bronzed from the sun and sharing a postcoital glow.

Going to the Palmilla had been a dream for me ever since I saw a special segment on Oprah about John Travolta’s birthday party there, where he’d rented the entire resort. This was supposed to be my trip. I’d never get to go there and afford to splurge on a villa with a plunge pool, especially now, when I would only imagine I was in a room that Dave had occupied with his wedding date.

I couldn’t believe this, after all this stupid crap with Grant.

“So we can go ahead and confirm?” the reservationist prompted.

“Actually, we won’t be needing that villa after all. The stock market is down, if you know what I mean. . . .” I laughed, trying to sound nonchalant about my fake imaginary financial setback. “Do you have something with a mountain view for those dates?”

“Let me check.” She was all business. “We do have a mountain-view room available, but it’s two double beds, not a king as you originally requested. Is that okay?”

“Two double beds is fine.” I smiled into the receiver. This was starting to not feel so bad.

“And we can go ahead and confirm your couples massage in the room upon your arrival. It’s obviously going to be a little tighter, space-wise. We have you confirmed with two female therapists.”

“Oh that’s great—but wait, would it be possible to get the massages with two male therapists?”