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“Because you were kind enough to let me crash your relaxing night out,” he says. “Thank you for tonight, Ms.…”
“Richards,” I say.He’s already forgotten?“It’s EdenRichards.”
“Eden. That’s right. Enjoy the rest of your trip.”
“Yeah, you, too. Don’t work too much.”
He gives another half snort of amusement and walks out of the restaurant—tall and stoic among the hordes of happy newlyweds.
So he’s staying in a bungalow. It’s the resort’s most expensive option, and one I had looked at briefly when researching. But a single glance at the price made it clear that it wasn’t for people like Caleb and me.
I take a sip of my drink, now watered-down and citrusy.Seems you can stay in a bungalow and still be miserable.
I might be in the cheapest room at the hotel. I might be nervous every single night I need to eat alone in a restaurant. But I’m here, in this beautiful place, and I owe it to myself to make the best of this experience.
Master of my own fate,I think again. These will be the best two weeks of my life. I deserve that.
I wake up to a brilliant sunrise. Clouds pass quickly over the sky, creating an ever-changing tapestry. From my hotel room window, I can see the neon-green colors of the resort’s garden. Everything seems just a tad brighter here. Even the flowers appear larger, their hues sharper.
Thanks to the incredible laws of jet lag, I’m down at the breakfast buffet early. Sampling all the wonders of the never-ending feast may be the hardest thing to accomplish during my two weeks on the island. Every fruit imaginable, omelets, pancakes, waffles, eggs, toast, croissants, and a granola spread are so impressive, I have to take a picture of it for posterity’s sake.
I grab a table by the boardwalk and spend my morning doing exactly four things: eating, watching the turquoise waves, reading my book, and keeping an eye out for Phillip Meyer.
Multitasking has always been my thing.
Even if I’m not sure if bungalow people actually go to the normal breakfast bar. They probably get the whole banquet delivered to their my-monthly-salary-a-night beachside villas.
But I keep my eyes peeled just in case.
I’m on my second glass of mango juice when I finally spot him. He walks through the breakfast bar with a single-minded purpose, stopping at the coffee station.
He’s wearing beige slacks and a blue polo shirt, looking like he’s about to close deals on a golf course. I leave my book at the table, get up, and stroll toward him.
Dark-brown hair has fallen over a face that already looks tanner today than it did yesterday, which is unfair on so many levels.
“Good morning,” I say.
He turns his head to the side, hands stilling on his coffee cup. “Hello,” he says. “Eden, right?”
“Yes, that’s it.” I find the wadded-up twenties in the pocket of my dress and hold them out. “Thanks for picking up the check yesterday, but I’d like to pay you back.”
He looks at my hand like it offends him. “What? Of course, not.”
“Yes. It wasn’t a date, and we don’t know one another. I can’t let you pay for me.”
“Eden,” he says and puts his coffee cup down. He speaks my name with emphasis on every single letter. “I imposed on you. There’s no way I’m taking your money.”
I give him my best smile. “You know, I’ll have to chase you across the resort if you won’t take this. Don’t forget that I know which bungalow you’re staying in.”
The grown man in front of me rolls his eyes. “Right. And you know karate, too, don’t you?”
“Black belt,” I lie brightly. “So, here. I was raised to pay my own way.”
Phillip looks like it pains him, but he takes the money from my outstretched hand. “Fine. If you truly want to…”
“I do.”
“All right,” he says. “But I want it noted that it’s against my will.”
