Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
The sun is starting to set, and it’s a beautiful sight here. I head down the beach wearing just my swim trunks, a beer bottle in my hand and the sand between my toes as I walk.
While I love my second family, I also like my solitude. There’s no one I want to be around all the time. It’s just the way I’m made.
Chapter Three
Reese
I switch from my side to my back, sprawling out as far as I can in the king-sized bed I’ve had all to myself for the past three nights. My bridal suite at The Point at Poipu resort is incredible, from the crazy comfortable bed to the spectacular ocean views.
And the champagne for two they deliver every night with two goblets? Well, I just grab one of those glasses and the bottle and enjoy it solo on my balcony.
God, was I a fool. I can’t stop replaying my nightmarish non-wedding in my head. Part of me wishes I could stay here forever, and never again have to face anyone who knows I was on the edge of marrying a man who screwed two of my bridesmaids.
I imagine my phone is blowing up with notifications, but I don’t have to worry about it because I didn’t bring it. My parents know I’m here in case of an emergency. I’m planning to spend my six days here relaxing, sleeping in and recharging mentally.
But sleeping in isn’t happening today. I glance over at the clock and see that it’s 6:52 a.m., then sigh heavily as I give up on going back to sleep and sit up.
After a quick shower, I put on a bikini, shorts and a T-shirt and decide to go exploring on foot. Eric and I had activities scheduled for most of our days here, but I cancelled all of them. This is my trip, not ours.
On the main level of the resort, I buy a coffee and seriously consider a pastry, but decide against it. I’ll eat later this morning. The head chef here generously gave me a tour of his kitchen yesterday afternoon when I asked, and he said I can drop in anytime to see what they serve for breakfast and dinner.
I haven’t worked at a place that served breakfast since before culinary school. At Les Amis, where I work now, we don’t even open until 5:00 p.m. Being the head pastry chef there means five late nights a week, but I love my work.
At this hour, the path the concierge told me about when I checked in is almost deserted. It leads me around the back of the resort and down to the beach. The water is a beautiful clear blue, the sun just starting to rise as light reflects off the waves. I can see why people fall in love with this island.
It’s a nice feeling, not having a schedule to worry about. I’ve found in my first few days here that just sorting through my feelings keeps me pretty busy from morning to night. It’s impossible for me not to run through the “what ifs.” What if I’d broken up with Eric four years ago when we were going through a rough patch and I was seriously considering it? What if we’d gone to pre-marital counseling like I wanted to? What if my mom was still here to talk to about all of this?
But it’s just me. My mom’s gone and I’ll never speak to my ex-best friend again. My dad’s a good listener and he does his best to fill the gap left behind when my mom died, but it’s just not the same.
I’ve walked about half a mile down the beach when the sight of a sea turtle plodding along in the sand makes me stop. He’s slow, but utterly unbothered. When I crouch down to watch him, he gives me a bored look before resuming his trek.
I envy the turtle as he cuts small swirling patterns into the sand on his way down the beach. It looks as if he’s charting a map. Instead of following in the prints of steps he’s already made, he’s creating new ones.
Since I got here, I’ve been feeling the urge to do the same. Now that Eric and I are over, I don’t want to live in the apartment we shared anymore. I don’t want to hit our favorite cafe every weekend for coffee and fresh bagels. Actually, I don’t want to do any of the things I did during my life with Eric.
But what could I do instead? I don’t have any answers yet, but I did click on an email with job listings yesterday from a professional trade organization I belong to.
At the sound of a crashing wave, I look away from the sea turtle and stand. On an impulse, I slip out of my shoes and pull my T-shirt off, then slide my shorts down to the sand. I leave my clothes in a pile on the beach and wade into the water, which is cool against my skin.