Page 20 of Love Unscripted
Several heartbeats later, I realize she’s laughing. She holds her arms over her stomach and bends at the waist. “That’s the most accurate thing I’ve ever heard.” Her laughter rings out bright and cheerful, a complete contrast to the grumbling I’ve been privy to since I picked her.
A sharp whistle cuts between us. Joel waves from the end of the path, then raises his hands in awhat’s the holdup?pose.
I take Trina’s hand and squeeze when she stiffens. “Think of your favorite character and pretend they’re the one on TV. Don’t overthink it and try to have fun.”
“Fun.” She snorts and rolls her eyes.
We make our way closer, and genuine surprise forces me to stop. Trina does the same. The place is amazing. The brochure doesn’t do it justice. Her head swivels back and forth. “Wow.” We say it at the same time, then look at each other and burst out laughing.
Joel gives me a thumbs-up, his signal that we’re good to go.
An older couple head our way and meet us at a rose-covered gate. “Welcome to the Rose Resort.” The man holds out his hand. “I’m Steve, and this is my wife Marg.”
We all shake hands and offer greetings.
Steve’s smile grows brighter, and he sets off at a brisk walk down the path. “Trina, I understand you’re Melanie’s sister.” He chuckles. “How’s she doing?”
We keep pace with the resort owners. Fences line the sandy path. Roses bloom everywhere. No wonder they call it the Rose Resort.
Trina chatters away about her sister’s amnesia.
I frown and try to remember if I knew about that. It’s not ringing any bells. Then again, I didn’t follow—or care about—her personal life until recently.
Marg stops on the stoop of a small beach house. She holds out the keys and jingles them. “Here we are.” A twist, and the front door slides open. She motions for us to follow her. “There are cameras in the kitchen, living room, and dining room. Along with microphones.” She points out the devices as we walk.
Trina’s frown returns.
The place is nice, with an open area for dining and a smaller kitchen tucked away almost out of sight. A hallway extends in the other direction, and my throat seizes as I realize what’s down there.
Trina and I share a look of suspicion once we take in the extent of camera coverage within the house.
She turns to Marg. “How did they install them so quickly?”
Marg fiddles with the keys, then passes them to me. Her cool fingers wrap around mine. She side-eyes Steve as he says, “Those guys are good at their jobs. Were in and out of here lickety split.” He snaps his fingers and chuckles but it’s a hollow sound.
Trina’s hands pop onto her hips. First one. Then the other. It’s cute the way she tips her head to the side and evaluates the setting. “And you had rooms for the crew on such short notice? There are a lot of them.”
I like watching her treat this like an interview. Too bad she didn’t give me the chance to speak for myself before she wrote my story. Or what shethoughtwas my story.
“It all worked out.” Marg shrugs, but her smile is tight. “We appreciate the business.”
The whole exchange rings of a script being recited. Monotone voices and long pauses punctuate Marg and Steve’s responses.
Steve claps his hands. “Who wants to see the pool?”
Trina raises a brow at me. “You up for a tour?”
I motion at my shorts and t-shirt. “I’m ready for a swim.”
Marg hurries toward the front door. “You two are going to love it here. Melanie and Adam had such a wonderful time...once Melanie gave him a chance.” She gives Trina a meaningful look.
I almost fall over backward. That’ll be the day.
***
TRINA
There’s a knock on the glass door. Behind it stands the head producer, Nicholas Parsons, and a herd of staff. How the heck will they fit into this tiny living room?