Page 8 of The Heartbreak Hotel

“Mm-hmm. And do you usually feel tired when you’re at home? Or do you feel well rested?”

What is this guy’s problem?

“I’m mostly fine.”

“Mostly? Would you like to expand on that?”

Not really, Marco Marcos, no.

She clicked her tongue. “Life is tiring, isn’t it? Sometimes we just need a break.”

His mouth pursed, and he continued scribbling. “Interesting. Yes.”

All in all, her first day hadn’t been too shabby. Some extra hours’ sleep wouldn’t have gone amiss—damn you, Romeo—but Ella’s attempts to stay in bed and miss the introduction were denied by her rumbling tummy. Ultimately, she was glad she hadn’t missed the breakfast, because it was top tier. Steaming coffee, fresh fruit, warm bread, pastries and jams, and ice-cold juice. She’d skipped the granola in favour of more pastries, and had been seated on the other side of the room from Pauline, too—winner—barely having to make small talk with the floppy-haired man seated next to her, as the course leaders did most of the talking.

The course creator and leader, Senhor Arenoso, had opened the day with a speech that would’ve been more profound if Ella hadn’t been so focused on the flakey golden pastries melting in her mouth. Despite the heat, he was dressed decadently in a long burnt-orange kaftan, with a mix of gold and silver jewellery decorating his fingers and neckline. She’d caught the main gist of his opening lecture—reset your life, love yourself, rediscover peace and transform into a freer, better you… yadda, yadda, yadda.

The rest of the leaders had politely introduced themselves, but smiley Riley was nowhere to be seen.

Ella wasn’t sure if she’d imagined the woman as a post-traumatic stress response, but then she’d seen her name on the schedule. Yoga and surfing. That explained the strong physique, then.

Schedules were filled from six to twelve in the morning, with yoga, meditation, energy-healing workshops and various other things with names Ella couldn’t pronounce, and ended with a session with the guidance counsellor every two to three days. Afternoons offered the choice of additional activities or free time at the beach. No prizes for Ella’s preference.

Thankfully, the session with Marco Marcos drew to a close, and Ella stepped out into the hot Portuguese sun.

The sea was calling her.

She followed the grainy trail down to the beach, wincing at the blisters between her toes. The ocean was crashing, getting louder and louder, the smell of salt guiding the way to the sandy shores. Once the path ended, she removed her flip-flops and pushed her toes into the sand.

Fuck, that’s hot!

She did a little hop, skip and a jump, her thighs jiggling as she rushed past two leathery brown bodies soaking up the heat. She powerwalked towards the sea, sweat trickling down the back of her neck. The tumbling waves promised to soothe her. It’d been too long. She needed to feel the water on her skin. Ella loved the water, and a big smile took over her face as soon as she was within reach.

She dumped her bag on the sand and removed her flowery kimono, freeing her red bikini. Winnie had promised it complemented her curves instead of covering them, unlike the swimsuit Ella had originally picked out. Her rounder body shape had followed her into her thirties and still took some getting used to in the mirror. As with this trip, Ella had decided to trust her best friend, perhaps against her better judgement.

But it wasn’t as if her own decision-making had been stellar lately.

Memories of Maeve swirled around her, all long legs and sharp cheekbones: the steely glint in her eyes rooting Ella like she’d been slapped, her perfume swimming through her veins, blurring the images of their last few years together.

“You are so funny.” The memory of Maeve’s silky voice echoed in her ears as she perched on Ella’s desk, bearing down on her with curious brown eyes.

Ella had melted under the string of compliments in those early days. Ever since Maeve had got a promotion at work and moved to their floor, she’d spent an increasing amount of time at Ella’s desk. Ella felt special. Especially when drawing the curious eyes of jealous coworkers nearby.

“What are you doing tonight?” Maeve had asked, her fingertips deliberately teasing the button of her silk blouse. “I’ve got a special project that I’d love to get your opinion on if you don’t mind staying late.”

“I’d love to,” Ella had jumped in, all too quickly for the cat-and-mouse game Maeve loved to play.

“Fantastic.” Maeve’s voice lowered, dropping to that husky rasp that made Ella want to curl up on her lap and purr. “I’ll make it worth your time. I promise you.”

The image merged with their latest encounter, hitting Ella hard in the stomach. “You mean a lot to me, Ella. I promise you.”

“No swimming today,” a young, gangly boy called from the top of the wooden lifeguard chair, pulling her from her memories. “The current is too strong.”

Ella looked him up and down, then turned back to the waves frothing and crashing against the shore, feeling a little flustered. “It looks fine to me.”

“After-effects of all the rain yesterday. Big waves. Strong current.”

She squinted under the light. The boy’s spidery legs were too long for his body, the giant structure making him look like an oversized baby in a highchair. Is this Romeo?