Women don’t change men. Men change because they want to. I’ve learned this firsthand, and with Kai, things do feel different. But I think that’s because he was ready to find someone he wanted to spend more than one night with.
I have no idea why it was me or what I’ve done that makes him feel this way, but I’m not going to question it. It works, and we’re both happy, so that’s all that matters.
This is the most comfortable I’ve been in my own skin since before I met Sean. I feel more like myself, finding my way and learning how to move on, and with Kai’s help, it’s been easy.
Plus, out here, on this island, in this little community, no one cares who I was before or that I was Sean English’s wife. It means nothing to them—not just to all the friends I’ve made, but pretty much all the locals who live here too.
They like their quiet, undisturbed life, never seeking or creating drama.
Even at work, Sally and Rick have made it so that no one comes into the hotel looking for me. There’s not a chance the media isn’t now that I made that post. But with all the support here, I don’t worry about it at all.
“I don’t think I changed him,” I tell Alana now, totally confident in my answer. “Men change because they want to, and Kai wanted something different.”
She looks at me, taking in my words, and nods contemplatively. “You’re right. This is so true. Men don’t change for women. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“Me too,” I echo back, my brows going up as if to say, just look at social media right now, and you’ll know I tried.
“Whatever it is, Kai’s obsessed with you, and it’s so damn cute.”
After surfing, Kai heads to work at the shop, and I set out to get a new phone. I bring with me the busted one, not that I’m going to get anything for it.
Just like keeping my job in New York, I kept a separate cellphone plan too, which will make getting a new phone so much easier.
It’s crazy to think about it now, but I wonder if subconsciously I kept things like my cellphone plan, my bank accounts, my insurance separate from Sean’s for a reason. When we got married, the only thing that changed was my last name.
There’s a store right near Orchid Bay, and I pop in, noticing it’s empty, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
After making that post and making my profile public, it’s going to make me more recognizable. I knew that when I did it, but I also needed to get it out there what is happening to me and not just to me, but to women all over the world.
Being silenced and bribed sucks. Being bought like you’re for sale in any way is absolute shit.
“Hey, I need to get a new phone,” I tell the guy who greets me. “Just an iPhone. Whatever is the cheapest.”
He takes my old phone, flinching when he looks at the shattered screen.
“Yeah, it had a fall,” I joke. “I know you can’t give me anything for it.”
He goes through the options with me, and I quickly select one, moving through the process of transferring everything from the cloud.
All in, it takes about twenty minutes, and when the phone finally connects, everything transfers, and it begins to light up like the Fourth of July.
Message after message, hundreds, then the missed calls, the notifications from Instagram—they all fill the screen.
“Um,” the guy starts, looking down at the phone as it continues, like it’s never going to stop. “How long were you without a phone?”
“Twenty-four hours, maybe.” I say it with all sincerity, knowing this was going to happen.
It doesn’t faze me, but the guy working there can’t take his eyes off it. The messages keep coming, new ones popping up every second.
The door to the store opens, and in walk two young girls, maybe around seventeen, and when they see me, their eyes go wide.
And that’s when the whispering begins.
“You famous or something?” the guy asks, as the girls giggle and point at me.
The whispered, “that’s her,” is heard pretty loudly.
“Nope.”
