Claire choked back a laugh when she heard Molly sigh with frustration.
“What exactly have you been doing with your time then?”
“Well, let’s see.Mostly loading up on jerk chicken and Jamaican beer and falling asleep around nine-thirty.Oh, and I’ve read two romcoms.”
“Thrilling,” Molly said, her tone cemented in sarcasm.
“I am scheduled for a massage and facial tomorrow though.”
“I’ll alert the media.”
“I didn’t come here for love, Mol.”
“Who said anything about love?I’m talking about lust, Claire—lust.Surely there’s a hot cabana boy within arm’s reach.”
“Thank you, but I’m not interested.”
Claire’s emphasis on the wordnotcame out way stronger than she intended and silenced their conversation for a minute.
“I’m sorry, Mol,” Claire apologized.
“No, I’m the one who should apologize.I know that you’ll know when the time is right.”
“And I promiseyou’llbe the first to know.”
The two chatted for a few more minutes before ending the call.Claire pulled on a hotel robe, grabbed another beer, and moved out onto the balcony.The gorgeous sunset signaled meal time.Her poolside sandwich at lunch had long worn off, but the thought of getting dressed for dinner held no appeal.Room service it is.
An hour later, a handsome young man with a bright smile and muscles for days arrived with a tray of food.Claire’s mind flashed with images of their naked bodies intertwined, thrashing about in the king-size bed.He’s what?Early twenties?Maybe twenty-five at the most.
“Will that be all?”he asked, awaiting a signature on her receipt.
I’d like for my best friend to stop planting ridiculous ideas in my head.
“I think that’s it, thank you.”
With a nod, he exited her room.
Claire sat on the bed, cheeseburger in one hand and TV remote in the other.After three cycles through all the channels, she finally decided on an old Fred Astaire movie–one she’d seen before, thus her attention drifted.
“You’ll know when the time is right…”
Molly’s words bounced around her head, to the point that she lost her appetite.Shoving the tray aside, she made a beeline to the safe located in the closet.She punched in the four-digit code—Calvin’s birthday, oddly enough—and waited.The small metal door popped open to reveal just three items: her passport, three hundred dollars in cash, and the engagement ring.
Claire slipped the ring into position on her left hand, unsure why still had it.She’d texted Liz on New Year’s Eve, asking for her input.Liz eventually responded and told her to keep it.It made its way onto her finger more times than she cared to admit—mostly as a deterrent to anyone who might show romantic interest.But when it did, it confirmed a simple truth: forgiving herself seemed light years away.
With teeth brushed, she grabbed her book and crawled into bed.The plan to read until she fell asleep failed.She couldn’t banish Calvin from her brain.She reached for her phone and googled his name—a practice she did regularly.She had to hand it to Lucy.Other than a brief mention of his accident days after it happened, there was zero news about him.Well, no personal news.His name was still attached to several upcoming Hollywood productions.She, herself, was not mentioned and never had been.
Claire struggled to focus on her book but restlessness grew.Her two beers had barely scratched the surface.With a sigh, she dressed, shoved her hair up into a messy bun, coated her full lips with her favorite lip balm, and made her way downstairs.Steel drum music and laughter from the main bar near the pool filled the air.Wanting to avoid a crowd, she opted for the smaller bar—The Neon Note—a quiet space that featured a brightly painted piano parked smack dab in the center.
Claire stood at the entrance, her face falling into disappointment.The Neon Note had a crowd of its own.With a sigh, she pushed her way through the masses to the one and only empty barstool.
“Evening."The bartender nodded.
"Good evening," she answered.
"What sounds good?"
"Bartender’s choice.”She smiled.“Surprise me."
