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When we merge onto the highway, I press my face to the glass and study the world outside.
It rushes past in a blur of shapes and colors until Brady takes a right and butterflies onto a smaller, less worn-out path.
Soon, the metal buildings give way to smaller brick houses with lush greenery, and a few mountains in the distance.
I smile and trace the tops of those mountains with my fingers.
Brady clears his throat and places both hands on the wheel. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in the scenic route? Montana’s got some amazing mountains.”
I turn away from the glass and meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. “I’m sure.”
He nods and turns up the music.
Frowning, I settle back against my seat and take out my laptop. Then I take a look at the office newsletter and for the umpteenth time, wondering if I’ve made the right decision.
Most women whose marriages fall apart join a gym and go out for drinks when their friends. Some dye their hair outrageous colors, and others get a piercing or a tattoo.
I’ve considered all of those options and then some, but none of them felt right.
At least not to me.
Sure, I’ve considered getting extensions and going for purple streaks to liven up my brown hair, but the more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded.
I’m not a teenager anymore. And I know that no matter how many glasses of wine I drink, gyms I join, or haircuts I get, nothing is going to fill the void that now exists in my chest.
My phone buzzes, and I smile at the selfie Savannah sent of herself with Skittles on her lap.
I send her another selfie, struggling to capture the scenic view in the background. Then I drop my phone in my lap and scrub a hand over my face.
When I blink, Brady is pulling to a stop outside a large two-story Victorian-style brick house with stretches of lush green land on either side of it.
In the distance, I can make out a few stables, a slew of brick cabins and a few tan-looking guests walking past the car.
All of them look relaxed and at ease with themselves. My stomach dips as I push the door open and pull my sunglasses down over my eyes.
Wordlessly, Brady opens the trunk of the car and takes my bags out.
Despite my protests, he carries them up the stairs and holds the door open for me. I duck inside, and I’m met with the smell of berry-scented air freshener and cool AC air.
Once my vision adjusts, I take in the large windows overlooking the scenery, a wooden desk in the center of the room, and a few chairs scattered on either side of me.
Behind the desk, three people in green and black uniforms are sitting and talking on their phones.
Brady leads me to the front desk, sets the bags down, and claps his hands together. “I will leave you in the capable hands of the Four Elements Ranch staff. I hope you enjoy your stay, Ms. Clark.”
With a tilt of his head in my direction, Brady shoves both hands into his pockets and disappears behind one of the doors to my right.
When he comes back out, a few of the other guests wave at him, and he greets them by name. Then he disappears out the back door, and I am left leaning against the counter.
I open my mouth but before I can say anything, one of the employees, a blonde-haired woman, leaps to her feet and ends the call. “Hi, welcome to Four Elements ranch, Ms. Clark.”
Without waiting for a response, she hands me a tall glass of water with a slice of cucumber and lemon wedge. “Your room is ready for you. Do you have any other requests?”
I shake my head and fish out my wallet. After I hand her my ID, her fingers move steadily over the keyboard. and I study the woman who is assisting me.
She has a high ponytail and a blindingly white smile. She holds herself with the grace and ease of someone who is comfortable in her own skin.
While I wait for her to check me in, I shift from one foot to the other and resist the urge to take out my phone.
