He did look pale. Clarice put a hand on his forehead. "Did you eat something? Oh my G.o.d, was it something we all ate?"

He took her hand in his and kissed it. "No, it's not that. Here, let me escort you back to the table." He didn't wait for her to answer, but led her through the still-dancing crowd, back to where the Moores sat chatting with each other. He gave her hand a squeeze, but said nothing else before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Clarice returned to her seat feeling a little flush and pale. Mrs. Moore noticed almost immediately, to Clarice's horror.

"Dear, what has you so shaken?" asked Vanessa, leaning across the table. "And Harrison, too; is he ill?"

"Uh," said Clarice, looking out over the crowd of happy dancers for any sign of Harrison. "I'm not sure, he excused himself very suddenly. He may have had a phone call, that thing is always on vibrate even when I tell him to turn it off." She let out a laugh she knew sounded far too nervous.

Clarice had no idea what had happened to Harrison; she only knew the moment had left her shaking and unsteady, her stomach twisting in knots. It was like something big was building in her heart that wouldn't be contained much longer, and she was terrified it would crush everything in its path.

She picked absently at the rich chocolate cake that arrived for dessert while the band played on. Mr. and Mrs. Moore sauntered out for another dance once their champagne was done, leaving Clarice alone at the table to catch her breath and her thoughts. She looked around again for Harrison, but all the faces in the crowd were unfamiliar and far away. She was aching for him, she realized. The way he had hurried off, so clearly upset, had upset her as well.

She already cared deeply for Harrison, she realized. She didn't want to see him that way.

The Moores returned with a wave of applause for the band washing behind them. Only a few seconds later, Harrison cut through the crowd, a look of determination on his face as his right hand fiddled at the b.u.t.tons on his coat jacket. Clarice watched him with a curious look, but he only stared at the ground as he approached.

"Harrison, darling," said Vanessa, as he came up behind Clarice's seat. "Are you quite alright? You look pale as death. It's not the food in this dreadful place, is it?"

George shook his head instantly, wiping his mouth. "Come now, dear, Harrison would never hire inferior chefs."

Clarice felt Harrison at her back. Slowly, his big hands slid up her arms and came to rest on her shoulders. Instantly she felt lighter, and lifted one of her hands up to place on his.

"It's not the food, mum," said Harrison. "I'm not ill."

"Then what's gotten into you, leaving your fiancee on the dance floor? Where are your manners?"

"Apologies, darling," said Harrison to Clarice. He leaned down and planted a firm peck on her cheek. "I wasn't myself there for a moment, not after you told me the news. I simply had to get some fresh air."

Clarice squeezed his hand as an acceptance of his apology. But then his words slowly dawned on her. She almost spilled out the question - what news was he talking about? - but before she could, Harrison's grip on her shoulders tightened ever so slightly, a clear signal to her.

"News? What news?" asked Vanessa. "We thought you might be taking a call, is it serious?"

"No, mum. Clarice told me some incredible news as we were dancing, and I just... I became overwhelmed." Harrison smiled down at her, and Clarice tried to mimic it, but she knew there were questions in her eyes.

"What is it?" asked George.

"Father, mum... you're going to be grandparents. Clarice told me she is expecting."

The words rang in Clarice's ears so loudly that she could barely register the sound of the band, the cheering of the crowd, or the ecstatic outburst of Vanessa as she scurried up from her chair to embrace her son and new, soon-to-be daughter. It was like she had cotton stuffed in her ears; like all the glitter and lights were a million miles away.

She only sat there in the chair with a forced smile while Vanessa wrapped her in an excited embrace. Above her, Harrison shook hands with his father. When he glanced back down to her, there was sadness and apology in his eyes, but it wasn't enough.

In that moment, all Clarice felt for Harrison was rage.

16.

Harrison

Maybe it was because the night had reached such emotional heights, but once he saw the look of anger on Clarice's face, Harrison felt a deep and ugly darkness rise up in his heart, as if he had taken a nose dive from that height and fallen hard. She had a cold steel in her eyes that was so far removed from the care and even love he had felt before that it almost made him literally shiver, right then and there in the ballroom.

As his parents descended into blind emotional celebration, Harrison realized the weight of what he had done, and found himself screaming internally for a way out. He watched helplessly as his mother wrapped Clarice in her arms, pressing their faces together and giving her pecks that left soft pink lipstick smears on Clarice's pale skin.

Clarice was a queen, as always, and it was only Harrison who could see the cracks in her expression that betrayed the reality of her emotions. On the surface, she was smiling and loving to her new parents, even when Harrison's mother started patting her flat tummy and listing off all the food products and activities Clarice would now have to avoid.

"Why'd you let us serve her champagne?" scolded his father, lifting up the bottle and shaking it towards Harrison.

"Dear, he didn't know!" chimed his mother. "And anyway, it's very early, isn't it? Find me a woman who hasn't enjoyed spirits before she found out she was carrying and I'll find you a liar!" She squeezed Clarice again. "She will be more careful from now on, won't you, dear?"

Clarice gritted her teeth and smiled. "Of course, mother. We couldn't be happier about this."

"This calls for a celebration," said his father.

Harrison couldn't ignore the intense anger he saw in Clarice's eyes. It was as if he could hear her thoughts in his head, and right now, those thoughts were telling him very clearly that staying in this place and celebrating his newest lie was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Father, hold off on that," said Harrison with a palm up. "To be frank, Clarice is feeling a little weak this evening. I think it would be best if we turned in early to let her get some rest."

Instantly the mood changed from celebratory to worrisome. "What's wrong? Shall I fetch the doctor? You do have a night doctor on staff, don't you, Harrison?"

Harrison swallowed an impulse to return the barb. "Of course, but it's not all that serious, is it darling?" He leaned over to look at Clarice, trying to explain with his eyes this sudden change of plan.

Clarice picked up on it very quickly. "No, of course not." She put one hand on her tummy and the other on her clavicle. "It's just a little hot in here, to be honest, and all this excitement from this whole week, and sharing the news... I think I'm just a bit overwhelmed."

His mother squeezed her into another hug. "You take your rest, nothing is more important than your health! Harrison, get her to bed this instant."

"On your command, mum," said Harrison with a half-smile. He helped Clarice out of her chair and offered her a strong arm to walk on. "Darling, let's get you back to the suite and order you some ice cream."

Both his mother and father gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek before they would let them depart from the ballroom. As soon as they were through the gilded double-doors, Clarice dropped Harrison's arm, picked up the skirt of her dress, and stalked down the hall at a faster pace to get ahead of him. The anger she left in her wake was palpable, and when Harrison saw the look on her face as she stared at him in the lift car, anxiously pressing the Close Door b.u.t.ton before he could follow, he decided he would swing by the bar for a moment and take a few shots before he faced the disaster he had so deftly created.

She needed some time, and he really needed a drink.

Harrison entered the penthouse slowly, carefully. The bedroom lights were glowing, but everything else was dark. Through the windows he could see the glittering of the weekly luau on the beach, and the slow-moving lights of boats on the water.

He undid his tie and let it hang in loose ends around his neck. "Clarice? Are you here?" he said.

She didn't answer right away. He made moves towards the bedroom to look for himself, but she appeared suddenly in the doorway, still in her beautiful golden dress. Backlit by the bedroom light, her hard stance and angry face made her look like an ancient G.o.ddess of war, ready to rain her wrath down on him.

And he deserved it.

"Got a lot of nerve coming back here," she said.

"I came back to talk," he said. "Not to pretend like it didn't happen. Give me some credit, will you?"

Her face said she was not going to be giving up an ounce of free credit this evening. "So talk," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "What the h.e.l.l was that? What were you thinking?"

Harrison realized he actually hadn't asked himself yet why he did it, and when he went groping for an answer now, all he felt were ugly emotions he didn't want to investigate with any clarity. They were slippery and complicated. "I'm sorry, Clarice. I really am. It was a stupid move, I just... I panicked."

"Panicked? Why? Everything was going just fine," she said, waving her arms. "If anything, you just jeopardized everything we've done this week trying to get you out of this mess. You realize that, right?"

He sighed. "I know."

"You're going to have a much harder time explaining what happened to a fiancee and your unborn child once this little charade is done and I'm back home. If it was just me, we could break up, but a baby? Your parents are never going to let you just abandon your child!"

"I know," he said, firmer this time. "I don't need you to tell me what my parents will do, alright? I know d.a.m.n well what will happen."

"Then why the h.e.l.l did you do it, Harrison? Why did you leave me out there hanging like that? I mean, f.u.c.k, if you wanted to pretend a baby was a part of this, why didn't you just tell me?" she said.

"What do you mean?"

Clarice paused. She had a look on her face, like she had misstepped and said something she didn't mean to, but he didn't understand what. "I thought... I thought we trusted each other, you and I," she said. "I thought we were in on this plan together as partners. If you needed me to do something different I would have done it. But you just threw me under a bus out there, Harrison, and made me scramble to react. I could have f.u.c.ked up the whole thing, and it's like you don't even care."

Harrison couldn't meet her eyes when she said that. He stared at his feet and felt the most naked vulnerability he had ever felt in his life. At least since Anastasia. "Well, maybe I don't care."

"Come again?" said Clarice, folding her arms. "Maybe you don't care about what?"

"About f.u.c.king it up."

"What?" she said, shaking her head. "Am I drunker than I thought? Because this whole thing was your idea, to save your life, remember? Why would you want to f.u.c.k it up?"

Harrison's emotions came charging up through his body like a tsunami he didn't even hear coming. He stalked closer to her. "I don't f.u.c.king know, alright? I just... something's happening to me, Clarice, and I don't understand it. We were out on that dance floor and talking about the plan and you leaving back for New York and I just... it was like my mind just went blank, I couldn't think of anything else."

"Anything else but what?" said Clarice. "Harrison, I don't understand what you're saying."

"I don't know either, Clarice. Something just, it came over me. Something big and furious that forced me to listen, and so I just went for it. Like part of me just... just wanted to say it. I wanted to stand there and have that experience, telling them that this beautiful wife of mine was carrying my child. I saw that moment and I took it."

Clarice froze. There was an emotion on her face that Harrison didn't have a name for, but it pained his heart to look at. Sadness built like a quiet storm in her clear blue eyes. Her chest rose and fell in silent breaths.

"Clarice," he said, if only to break the silence. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry I did it. It was stupid of me, and I should have trusted you. I f.u.c.ked up. I am a f.u.c.k up."

Clarice watched him carefully. Her lips moved like she wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. She took a deep breath and said softly, "I think you should go, Harrison."

Harrison flinched as if he had been slashed with a blade. Her words hurt far worse than he could have antic.i.p.ated. But he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on. She was right to want s.p.a.ce.

He averted his eyes, unable to take the pain and blame on her beautiful face. He only nodded at her, muttered another apology, and then left their honeymoon penthouse.

17.

Clarice

Clarice found the girls at the Emerald Pool, an enormous shallow pool with crystal water and a swim-up bar that was by far one of the most popular spots in the whole resort. The sun was beginning its descent behind the tall curved peaks of the island cliffs, setting the sky on fire in brilliant shades of orange and pink that Clarice knew she would never see on her side of the world. A giant flock of gorgeous white water birds took flight just outside the resort's walls and called out in happy song over the jungle as they went.

Liz was the first to spot Clarice, and she waved her over to a stool they had saved just for her. The week had obviously been full of fun for all of them, because the ladies looked relaxed and even a little worn out from their adventures.

Clarice sighed as the warm water enveloped her body. "Christ, I didn't know how badly I needed this."

"Welcome to the party, senorita," said Trudy as she gave her a sideways hug. "Where've you been?"

Clarice made a big huffing noise. "I don't even want to talk about it. What are we drinking?"

"They're called Adios Motherf.u.c.kers," said Sophie with a hiccup. She held up a gla.s.s full of bright blue drink. "And they are not f.u.c.king around."

"I'll take four," she muttered, before waving the bartender down and putting in a more realistic order of just one of the blue drinks. And a shot of rum.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I'm afraid I can only offer you our virgin selections," said the bartender.

Clarice started. "Excuse me? Did you run out of booze or something?"

"No, no," the bartender flushed red. He was a skinny ginger thing with a British accent even thicker than Harrison's. "It's my instructions, you see. Mr. Moore's orders."

"Harrison said I can't drink?" said Clarice. Anger instantly rose in her heart at the thought that Harrison would try to be petty with her over their argument. She hadn't spoken with him since he left the penthouse an hour ago. She only called up her girls and told them it was time to get drunk.

"No, not Harrison, miss-Mr. George Moore," said the bartender. "For his future grandchild, he's told us to make sure not to give you any alcohol."

Clarice's mouth dropped open and her face turned red, giving the bartender a chance to slip away and serve other customers. On the stools next to her, all the girls slowly turned to look at her with questioning, wide eyes.

"His future grandchild?" said Liz, hitting every syllable hard.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it," said Clarice. She put her head in her hands.

"What in the what is going on," said Sophie. "Did I miss something? Are you knocked up, Clarice?"

"No, of course I'm not," said Clarice. "Babies take months to make, remember?"

"What the h.e.l.l is the deal? You owe us details, and you owe them now," said Trudy. "Plus, I need to know what's got your mood so rotten. I'm going to take a guess it has to do with this, uh... unplanned pregnancy."