Paradise Lost & Found, page 1
Paradise Lost & Found
· · —– · * · —– · ·
Jennifer Knightley
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Jennifer Knightley
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner.
First published in 2022
ISBN 978-1-7396725-1-5 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-7396725-0-8 (e-book)
Published by King & Knight Publishing
Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.
—William Shakespeare, The Tempest
Chapter One – Adam
It seemed like a good idea at the time. Two weeks away in a tropical paradise to clear his head and soothe the ache in his chest. Two weeks of seclusion with an excuse not to answer calls from worried friends or angry relatives. Well, her angry relatives. But Adam had forgotten just how much of a romantic sap he’d been, and how many extras and upgrades he’d added to the trip. It started with the two pre-ordered glasses of champagne on the flight and was compounded by the ‘Mr & Mrs Callaghan’ sign held up by the chauffeur at arrivals. By the time Adam was ready to check in at the luxury resort—into the honeymoon suite, no less—he was already fed up with the whole thing.
“And where is Mrs Callaghan?” the reception clerk asked, trying to be helpful and polite, not realising he was pouring salt into Adam’s wounds. “Will she be joining you later?”
“Uh,” Adam cleared his throat and tried to school his face into a neutral expression. “No. She won’t. Change of plans.”
The clerk just smiled sweetly. “Will you still be wanting the couple’s massage tomorrow afternoon?”
“What? Oh, erm. No, thank you.”
“It’s non-refundable.”
Wasn’t everything?
“Then, yeah.” What the hell. He could probably do with a massage. He always carried his stress in his shoulders.
“What about the sunset cruise, and the—?”
“If it’s non-refundable, keep it. Cancel everything else.” Adam didn’t mean to sound so short, but the trip was playing on his frayed nerves. Why had he ever thought this would be a good idea?
“Okay, sir. Can I take a copy of your passport for our security? Then I’ll get you all checked in.”
The clerk disappeared with Adam’s passport and he was left, drumming his fingers on the countertop and wondering where everything in his life had gone so wrong.
The lobby was large and airy, all white glossy walls, polished marble floors, and leafy green plants. A sunken bar led out onto a paved patio that looked right out onto the ocean. It was mid-afternoon and the sky was a deep blue. Palm trees wafted gently in a breeze that carried a salty tang and sent warm air sweeping around the room. The place smelt warm, not the sticky, sweaty smell of New York in the summer, or the nose-clogging humidity of DC, but something fresh and comforting, like stepping inside the orangeries of the country estates they’d visited in England once. These two weeks were just going to be a constant reminder of her, weren’t they?
Adam tried to push Vanessa from his mind and let his attention wander, quickly latching onto a loud, rather fraught conversation at the other end of the reception desk. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but they weren’t exactly being subtle.
“What do you mean the room’s not available?” a tall brunette woman in a pretty sundress with sunglasses perched on top of her curly hair demanded; in a tone quite at odds with her flowery, casual appearance.
“I’m sorry. There appears to have been an error in the system. The reservation was not properly recorded,” their receptionist apologised.
“But we booked this months ago!”
“It’s okay,” her brother tried to calm her down. They had to be siblings, they looked identical; same soft waves in their dark brown hair, same bright blue eyes, same slope to their nose, same dimple in their chin. Adam dropped his eyes to the floor quickly before he could be caught staring. “I’ll bunk with someone else.”
“Who?” the woman scoffed. “You’re sure as heck not bunking with us on our wedding night, and we’ve filled the other rooms to capacity already.” She let out a long-suffering sigh and her shoulders slumped as her anger gave way to resigned disappointment. “First the bags go missing, now this. What else is going to go wrong? Coming here was supposed to make things easier.”
“I know, Becs.” Her brother gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re sure there’s no other rooms available?” he asked the receptionist.
“I’m sorry. We’re fully booked.”
“Then I’ll sleep by the pool,” he laughed. “It’s the tropics, I won’t get cold.”
“Sir, we cannot condone that—”
“Yeah, well, then you shouldn’t have double booked my room.” He said it so charmingly that Adam found himself smiling along, in spite of everything.
“Kip, you can’t.”
“I know, I know. There must be another hotel on the island—”
“Here you are, sir.” Adam was pulled from the conversation with a snap as he was handed back his passport.
“Is there . . . a problem with their room?” he couldn’t help but ask, gesturing to the conversation down the desk. The clerk spared them a fleeting glance before returning to Adam with a cool smile.
“Unfortunately, our booking system glitched, there have been a few double-booked rooms recently. Don’t worry, your booking has not been affected. None of the pre-paid ones were,” the clerk tried to assure Adam, missing his point entirely. “Here’s your room key. Room 701, top floor. Wi-Fi code is inside. Breakfast is served daily from 7:00 am–10:30 am in the dining hall, or you can arrange to have it delivered directly to your room—”
“Are there any other hotels on the island?” Adam was still worried about the other pair checking in. He couldn’t help it; too empathetic, as he’d often been criticised, with a hero complex to boot.
“Not on the island, no. But there are plenty of hotels on the mainland.” The clerk tried to draw Adam’s attention back to the packet of information being handed over. “Here’s your confirmation for the massage tomorrow. The cabana is on the beachfront, just through those trees, there.” He gestured beyond the patio. “Towels are available for you to use poolside and on the beach. We ask that only the dark blue towels are taken down to the beach. The ferry departs to the mainland at regular intervals throughout the day, but we can always arrange a water taxi if required. If you need any help at all during your stay, please just ask.”
“Thank you.” Adam stepped away from the desk, clutching his room key and staring at the massage voucher. Two happy, Hollywood-pretty people were stretched out on massage beds, each attended by a smiling masseuse in a crisp white uniform. Behind them, white drapes fluttered in the breeze and the sun sparkled on the waves. The couple was holding hands between the beds; for some reason that was the final straw.
The last thing Adam wanted to be doing was lying on a beach whilst someone rubbed lotion into his back and asked him where his wife was. He wanted to be back in his apartment, head buried under a blanket, watching a game on TV, eating take-out, and doodling into a notebook until he felt like facing up to people again. He should never have come here. If it hadn’t been for the horrendous cancellation policy, Adam would never have even considered it. He gripped the handle of his suitcase and strode across the lobby, not towards the bank of elevators, but to the brother and sister now huddled by the front door, clearly trying to make other arrangements.
“Here,” he said, quite brisk and abrupt, but honestly, he was just proud of himself for not actively crying. “Have my room. I don’t need it. I’m cancelling my trip. It’s all paid up. Non-refundable. So. Use it.” He pressed the key card into the woman’s hands, unable to meet the eyes of her brother who was gawping at him with a look that Adam couldn’t decipher.
“We can’t—” she faltered and looked at the card. “The honeymoon suite,” she gasped under her breath and shared a look with her brother that clearly said, ‘can we really accept this?’.
“Please, just take it.” Adam tried to give her a smile but it felt more like a grimace.
“Thank you! I—”
Adam cut her off with a curt nod, extending one to her brother, before sweeping past them and out into the bright afternoon sun. He heard a squeal of delight behind him and couldn’t help but smile. At least someone was happy.
Chapter Two – Kip
It was meant to be the trip of a lifetime. Becca’s dream wedding. After everything she’d been through lately, it was the least she deserved. The three of them (that was: Kip, Becca, and her fiancée, Robert) were heading out a few days ahead of the rest of the wedding party to make the final preparations. Rob had practically been part of their family since high school, this was just making things official, and Kip was ‘unofficial’ best man and man-of-honour to both of them. He was looking forward to a few days of sun with the pair of them; one last hurrah before Becca and Rob grew up and settled down like married people did. But things had started going wrong right from the off. They’d got stuck in traffic on their way to the airport and just barely cleared check-in, only to find themselves squished into a crowded plane sitting behind a teething infant who didn’t stop crying
Kip was only half-joking when he offered to sleep by the pool, but he knew it wasn’t really an option. That was the problem with choosing such a secluded and exclusive resort; that this was literally the only hotel on the island.
“We’ll figure something out,” he tried to reassure her with a smile. The glare he got in return told him she was far from reassured, but Kip’s optimism wasn’t deterred. They were in a hotel full of wedding guests. He was probably going to try and hook up with someone anyway, did he really need his own room? Take, for instance, the very attractive blonde man checking in across the lobby. He’d caught the same ferry they had, standing in the bow with the wind in his hair and a tortured expression on his face. Kip had been dying to strike up a conversation with him, but brotherly duties came first and Kip had been preoccupied assuring Becca that her dress would turn up before the day of the wedding. Although, telling Becca that it hardly mattered, that Rob loved her enough that he’d still marry her in a swimsuit, hadn’t helped matters. Duly noted, Kip had thought to himself, don’t make light of wedding issues.
They stepped away from the desk and as Becca phoned Rob for an update on their bags, Kip let his attention wander over to the blonde stranger. He was, without a doubt, the most attractive man Kip had ever laid eyes on. Tall and muscular, but in a very non-threatening way; wearing navy slacks and a white shirt so well fitted that it looked like he was modelling them for GQ. His watch looked like it cost more than Kip earned in a month, as did the neat silver suitcase stopped by his feet. Honestly, it was hard not to stare.
“No luck,” Becca sighed, pocketing her phone. “The bags were definitely on the plane, so they’re in the airport somewhere. Just, God-knows-where.”
“They’ll turn up,” Kip replied, distracted because the tall blonde man was suddenly walking right towards them. And oh, God, he was walking towards them with purpose.
“Here.” The tall blonde man thrust a key card and a bunch of papers in Becca’s direction. “Have my room. I don’t need it. I’m cancelling my trip.”
No, don’t go, wailed a small voice in the back of Kip’s mind.
“It’s all paid up. Non-refundable. So. Use it.” He kept his eyes downcast as Kip peered unabashedly at him. Up close it looked like he’d been crying.
Becca stumbled over her response, “We can’t—” shooting a look at Kip, can we?
Kip shrugged. One thing he’d learned early on in life, was that no one was too good for handouts or favours.
“The honeymoon suite,” Becca gushed.
So, this was the guy who’d booked it out before them and made Becca mope for a week; not that she’d have ever been able to afford it anyway (“But I’d have liked the option!”). Kip glanced down at the man’s fingers gripped around the handle of the silver suitcase; no ring. Christ, no wonder he’d been crying.
“Please, just take it,” the poor man grimaced at them.
Becca finally relented and the guy fled. Kip watched him go, feeling his own heart crack just a little. Who could ever dream of breaking that man’s heart?
“The honeymoon suite!” Becca gasped under her breath again. “Kip!” she gave a squeal. “The honeymoon. Suite!”
“I know!” he grinned at her, trying not to care where hot-sad-blonde-man was going.
“Okay, well this is clearly going to be mine and Rob’s room. You can have our old one. And now you don’t need to sleep by the pool. Phew. I knew this trip couldn’t be a complete disaster.” Utter delight shone from her face. Kip could only smile back. It was the break they’d been waiting for, that solved their most pressing problem, so why did Kip feel like he’d lost something important?
· · —– · * · —– · ·
Becca kept mumbling ‘honeymoon suite, honeymoon suite’ under her breath as they rode the elevator to the top floor, and unlocked the door to one of only two rooms that occupied the space.
To say the room was extravagant was an understatement. For one thing, it was bigger than his entire apartment back home. Kip shuffled across the threshold and peered into the chain of rooms linked by large open archways. It had an entire, separate living area to the bedroom, a dining room—who needed a dining room in a hotel bedroom?—and two bathrooms. Two. Kip walked around the place shaking his head. The overindulgence of it all was outrageous. He opened a set of French windows and stepped out onto a wide terrace that looked directly over the ocean. The resort complex sprawled below them; an infinity pool on a raised terrace; a palm tree grove leading down to a white sandy beach, secluded cove with turquoise waters that sparkled under the sunlight. The brochure hadn’t been lying when it said the resort offered a slice of paradise.
Stepping back into the room, Kip found Becca sprawled face-up on the super-king-size bed looking for all the world like she’d jumped onto it.
“I can’t believe you’re gonna stay here.” He shook his head; knowing full well how much this suite cost and wondering what the hell kind of person could afford it.
“Me neither!” Becca moved her arms snow-angel style on the bed. “It’s bliss.”
“You’re gonna be spoilt, who would ever wanna go home after staying somewhere like this?”
“Ugh. I know.” She sat up, leaning back on her elbows. “Who d’you think that man was? We’ve got to thank him.”
Kip plucked a card from between the bucket of champagne and vase of roses sitting on the dresser.
“Probably Mr Callaghan,” he answered as he read the card:
‘Dear Mr & Mrs Callaghan,
Welcome to Juniper Bay Resort.
On behalf of the entire staff, we are delighted to congratulate you on your honeymoon!
We wish you a pleasant and comfortable stay in our hotel.’
Kip didn’t even pretend that his heart didn’t sink a little at the sight of the word ‘Mrs’. He flicked the card at Becca.
“I’m gonna go find my room then I’ll probably head down to the pool for a bit.”
“How? This isn’t the sort of place you can skinny dip, Kip.”
He swung round to show her his carry-on rucksack. “I always pack a spare pair of trunks, just in case.”
“Course you do.” She rolled her eyes.
“Gotta be prepared.” He grinned back. “Did Rob say what time he was heading back from the airport?”
“Last ferry today is at six, so he’ll be on that, with or without the bags.” She slumped back down into the pillows.
“Hey, they’ll turn up.”
“Yeah,” she sounded lethargic. The exhaustion of travelling and the stress of the day had finally caught up with her. “Did you see the robes in the bathroom? They’re so fluffy. I could always just get married in one of those.”
Kip laughed and gave her a gentle pat on her ankle. “It’ll all be alright,” he assured her. This time it seemed to work.
He left her drifting to sleep on the enormous bed and caught the elevator down a few floors to his own room. He was expecting it to feel small and stuffy after the grandiose honeymoon suite, but it was still larger than any hotel room he’d ever stayed in, with everything you’d expect from an ultra-fancy hotel: king-size bed; 50 inch tv on the wall; stone tiled bathroom with a walk-in waterfall shower; a neat little desk that had probably never once been used; a sofa and armchair framing a coffee table by the French windows. It was done up in soft blues, sharp whites, and flashes of gold. There was an abstract painting above the bed that reminded him of Greek mythology, though he couldn’t work out why, and the lights had about a million different ‘dimmed’ and ‘mood lighting’ settings. He was pleased to find the French windows opened out onto a small balcony, poking out from the side of the hotel and looking out of the lush vegetation that covered the island. If he leaned out over the railing, he could see both soft rolling hills to his left, and the ocean dancing prettily to his right. It was a beautiful room, in a beautiful place. Shame he didn’t have anyone to share it with.
