I should be sleeping. The fact that I don't even know how long I've been awake is a testament to the fact that I have no businessbeingawake at the moment. I’ve written like a madman for nearly two solid months, not to mention all of the stunningly wonderful sex and the delicious verbal sparring—that combination would wear out any man. Yes, I’m just tired. The smart thing to do would be to sleep eight hours straight so I can hit the ground running when I get home tomorrow.
I pull back the covers on the bed, glad that I sprung for the plane with the master suite. Turning off the light, I lay down and try to get comfortable.
Okay, that’s it, Pierce. Go to sleep...now.
Shit.
Hmm, maybe I’m forgetting something? I definitely feel like something is missing.
Oh, now I remember. I promised Emma I’d help them book up Eden Island. I sit up, flick on the light, grab my phone off the nightstand, and open my photo gallery. When it opens, I’m met with Emma’s smiling face as she displays the incredible meal she made us this morning. Not sharingthatone with the world. She’s just for me. Look at that face. She truly is a stunning woman, and not just that, she's brave and strong and so very talented.
I scroll through and find a few scenery shots I took over the month, then post them on IG with the caption ‘My writing retreat for the past two months. Very inspiring. For all you #ClashofCrowns fans out there, you may be happy to know that as of this morning at 3 a.m. the series has been completed. #writinglife #EdenIsland #ParadiseBay’
Putting my phone on airplane mode, I shut the light off, lay back down, and wait for sleep to come.
Huh. Normally I sleep really well on the jet. It’s pitch-black in here, there’s a climate-control setting set to an optimal temperature of 17°C, the engines create ambient noise, and I’m in a queen bed with 1000 thread count sheets. What more could I ask for?
Emma beside me.
Oh, wow, Pierce, that was just pathetic.
But I suppose I did get rather accustomed to listening to the rhythmic sound of her breathing at night, and the way she’d tuck herself against me with her arm slung across my abs, and the scent of her skin. Oh, and how her head fit perfectly in the crook of my neck when she was snuggled up beside me.
It’ll take me a night or two to get used to sleeping alone, but, honestly, what’s not to like? I can stretch out across the entire bed if I want. I can snore freely, or binge watchBlack Mirrorwithout worrying about keeping her up. Yes, this is definitely better.
Closing my eyes, I tell myself to just go to sleep already. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, you'll have begun to forget all about Ms. Emma Banks, chef extraordinaire. Adventurous, independent, beautiful Emma.
Okay, so it may take a few days, but definitely by the end of the week, this whole thing will be just a delightful memory.
I hope.
28
Awful Smug Rich People and the Bitter Women Who Serve Them…
Emma
Is there anything worse than being in limbo? Well, I suppose there are much worse things, really—like being sentenced to life in a Turkish prison, for example. But as far as lifeoutsideof a crowded, dank jail cell goes, being in limbo is absolute crap.
It’s been over two months since Pierce left and this entire time, I feel like I’m just waiting for my real life to start. And, I don’t know about you, but I absolutelyhatewaiting. At any given moment, my stupid heart is expecting Pierce to come bursting through the door to the houseboat to pledge his undying love for me, and I’ll start crying (a dainty, pretty cry, not the ugly version) and say, “Shut up. Just shut up. You had me at hello.”
But, that’s just ridiculous and my brain knows it. He’snotcoming back with a capital NOT, but somehow my heart isn’t taking messages from my brain at the moment. So my poor brain is also stuck waiting for my heart to finally accept reality.
The truth is, it's not just Pierce or my stupid heart that I'm waiting for, it's also my chance at getting off of Eden permanently. And the way things are going, I honestly don’t know when I’ll get my chance, because things have changed drastically since the beginning of June. Thanks to a certain famous author, the Island of Eden, and in fact, the entire Paradise Bay resort, has become the hottest sun destination on the planet. Obviously not weather-wise. I don’t actually know the literal hottest place on the planet. I’d guess in a desert somewhere, maybe in Africa. I meant hot as in everybody and their aunt’s cat wants to book a holiday with us.
When Pierce left for the other side of the planet, he posted the most incredible shots he’d taken of the island on his Instagram account. Who knew he’s basically a professional photographer on top of the whole writer/sex god thing? Not that it matters because he’s gone. Gone. Gone.Gone.
But his parting gift to me was a hell of a lot of rich people booking the island. Other than two days in October, we’re booked solid until next August. Next August! Can you imagine?
Not only that, the people who can't afford to stay on Eden—which includes 99.8% of the world's population—are booking at the main resort. This has meant Harrison and Libby have been swamped trying to find new hires in all departments and keeping up with the incredibly steady turnover of guests.
Things have been a little bit prickly between Harrison and me since the dinner at Rosy and Darnell’s. I think he feels upset about how our success came about, like it’s all tainted or something. He hasn’t brought it up, but he’s definitely different around me now. He’s kind of quiet and isn’t so quick to smile as he used to be, which honestly leaves me feeling kind of awful about being so irresponsible but also simultaneously pissed at Harrison for making me feel like a crap bag.
Well, maybe I’m the one doing that to myself. Even though things have turned out so much better than we could have hoped as far as business goes, I still can’t escape the fact that I played pretty fast and loose with the future of the resort and everyone who works here, all for a guy. I feel so bad, I haven’t even brought up my brilliant idea of switching with two of the chefs at the main resort so I can get off of Eden. I’ve just been out here hating my life and waiting for something to change.
Not exactly my normal take-charge, kickass self, am I? Instead, I’m a crabby serving wench, who pretty much hates everything and everyone. But can you blame a girl who’s just ended an amazing non-relationship that felt likethe most incrediblerelationship two people have ever had, who then finds herself surrounded by happy couples 24/7?
It’s natural to feel a little bitter, no?
