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The sisters from yesterday are back, and while they aren’t arguing over breakfast, there’s a certain sharpness in their movements. Of course, I don’t know if they’re sisters. I don’t know anything about them at all, and that gives my imagination plenty of space to spin fanciful stories.
The secretive businessman-who-might-be-the-villain-in-my-new-story doesn’t show up.
The morning is pleasantly warm, but humidity is still present, and I’m forced to corral my long hair into a braid. Little tendrils escape around my face, curling in a way they never care to do back home. With my dark eyes and light-brown hair, one might think I tan well, but there’s always a pinky stage before I reach any kind of summer tan.
As the morning moseys into midday, I change into a bikini and a cover-up, and grab my beach bag and guidebook. As I head through the lobby, I take a deep breath of the citrusy scent that always lingers in the hotel’s common areas. Five-star service right there. My first booked excursion is tomorrow, and I want to make sure I know exactly what to expect.
There’s a line at the front desk, so I take my place behind a couple with huge bags that are likely checking in. I don’t mind the wait. I only want to confirm the pickup spot tomorrow, to make sure I don’t miss my snorkeling cruise.
An annoyed sigh sounds behind me. Apparently, not everyone’s okay with the wait. I glance over my shoulder.
It’s Phillip Meyer.
He hasn’t noticed me yet. His gaze is laser-focused above my head at the single attendant working at the front desk.
I can’t help myself.
“In a hurry?” I ask.
His focus shifts to me, jaw clenched tight. But then his eyes clear in recognition. “Hello, Eden. I didn’t see you.”
“Hiya.”
“You’d think a place like this would have two receptionists.”
“Maybe they do,” I say calmly. “Maybe one got sick or had to step out for an important call…”
He’s quiet for a moment like he hadn’t expected a real answer. “Yes. I suppose so.”
“Are you checking out? I think there are boxes over there where you can leave your key card. You know, if you’re in a hurry.”
“I’m not checking out.”
“Oh, okay.” I shift my guidebook over, gripping it with both hands, and search for something to say.
He beats me to it. “You aren’t either, are you?”
“No.”
“Thought so. No bags,” he says and looks down between us. His gaze stops on my hands. “Is that a guidebook?”
I glance down at it and the colorful Post-it notes that stick up among the pages. “Oh, yes. I’ve been reading up on the island.”
“I’ll say.” His lips curve in one corner. “How long are you planning on staying? Two months?”
“Two weeks,” I say. “But it never hurts to be prepared. Those who fail to plan—”
“Plan to fail,” he cuts in. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Oh? Where’s your guidebook, then?”
He holds up his phone. “The accumulated wealth of human knowledge, right at my fingertips, and probably more up to date than a book.”
“You do seem very attached to your phone,” I say in a brilliant retort. It’s my wittiest moment to date.
But he just snorts. “The disease of the modern age. What are you in line for, then? Is your Wi-Fi also shit?”
“No, it works. Is that why you’re here?”
