Because if I do, I'll turn around. I'll go back to that room, wake her up and tell her I changed my mind, that I can't leave, that we'll figure it out together. That would ruin everything.
The taxi is waiting at the port. I give the driver the name of the airport and lean my head against the window as Nassau blurs past, and reality starts to settle in.
I’m leaving. I’m finally doing it.
I pull out my phone and send a message to Dax, my new roommate.
Zach:I’ll be in Atlanta today, and Rome by this evening.
Dax:What? Reese said you wouldn’t be here for another week? I had bachelor plans. It started with a bottomless brunch and ended with me asking the coach’s daughter for a marriage of convenience.
Zach:Yeah, well, I’m not going to stop you. Just don’t drag me into it.
Dax:That’s... suspiciously mature. What changed?
Zach:I did.
I stare at the message for a second, then lock my phone and lean my head back against the seat.
She’s going to wake up without me, and for the first time in my life, I’m not turning back.
Stretching, I wake up to the sunlight streaming through the balcony door and the ship’s horn announcing our arrival in Nassau.
As I reach my arms above my head, I tip my toes, stretching them out further too. Every single part of my body aches, but I feel so alive.
When my hands come down, I reach across the sheets, seeking Zach’s warmth, only, he’s not there. His side of the bed is cool to the touch, so I lift my head off the pillow and look over to the bathroom.
“Zach?” I call.
Silence.
The ocean waves crash against the ship, and I can hear a few people laughing in the distance as they disembark, but no Zach.
I sit up, push my hair out of my face, and look around the room.
“Zach?” His suitcase isn’t by the closet where I remember seeing it last night, his phone charger isn’t plugged in by the desk, and his shoes aren’t kicked off by the door.
My stomach drops.
No.
I throw the covers off and stand, my legs still a little shaky from last night.
“Zach?” I call louder this time, checking the bathroom even though I know it’s hopeless.
Empty.
He’s not there.
None of his stuff is either.
He left.
I can barely comprehend it.
“Zach, where are you?” My voice is shaky, and my knees give out when I see everything from last night on the balcony is gone too. There’s no beer bottle, and the chairs have been returned to their original positions.
He’s gone. Zach left me.
