The entire drive was excruciating, both physically and emotionally. Physically, because the couple I was with are huge over-packers, so I had to share my half of the backseat with two enormous suitcases, one of which was resting on my legs that are already sore from not being able to stretch them out for the past ten hours on the plane. And I’m still in my damn ‘classy plane outfit’ that I’ve been wearing for two days. So now I’m yet again returning a sweaty mess, being way too hot in my black pants and sweater combo. I left my carry-on in Pierce’s limo when I stormed out of the restaurant, so I haven’t been able to change clothes, brush my teeth, or put on some emergency deodorant. Not that I care what I smell like, really. Smelling good is irrelevant for people who are doomed to live their lives alone. Well, not really, but I feel like being dramatic at the moment, so please let that one go.
As if that weren’t bad enough, emotionally, the ride sucked hairy balls because it turns out they’re not only huge over-packers, they’re also huge Crownies, and are only coming to the resort so they can stay in the room where Pierce wrote the final scene of the series. They kept yapping excitedly about the series and what a genius Pierce is and have either of us met him… So at least I’ve had a cup of unrefined sea salt vigorously rubbed into my fresh wounds, which is always nice.
But, back to Rosy who is standing directly in the sun on the steps of the lobby with both hands on her hips. She looks pissed. I’m not sure who at, but I know I’ll find out in a few seconds.
“Things didn’t work out, so I decided to come home,” I say with a shrug. Attempting to put an end to the conversation, I start walking in the general direction of the pier.
“You mean you flew all that way just to get on a plane and come home?” she asks, walking down the steps and following me.
Stopping, I turn to her. “Listen, Rosy. I’m in a crap mood, and the last thing I need is a lecture on how I shouldn’t run from trouble or how I should try to make it work with a fine piece of man candy like Pierce or whatever else you’re planning to say. He wanted me to move there. I turned him down, but not because I’m running. It’s the right thing for my family and for me. It’s over. We’re never, ever, ever, ever, ever getting back together. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.”
Rosy’s shoulders drop and she takes a few steps toward me and gives me a huge hug. “Oh, Baby Bear, I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice cracking as I feel my strength dissolve in her warm, cozy hug. “Really, I’m okay,” I sob.
Before I know it, I’m standing in the middle of the path bawling my eyes out on Rosy’s shoulder while she pats my back and shushes me. I can feel the eyes of all the staff and tourists zipping past us on golf carts or strolling by, but I don’t even care.
“Shh…shh…it’s okay, Baby Bear,” Rosy says, patting me. “You’ll feel better after a nice shower and some soap,” she says, trying to pull away from me.
I clutch her tighter and keep bawling, needing this so badly right now.
When I’m finally done crying, Rosy lets me go and says, “You did the right thing, Emma, and you’ll meet some nice island boy to spend your life with. In fact, my nephew, Tyson, and his wife seem to be on the rocks. If they end up divorced, he’d be a real catch.”
“The cop with four kids?” I ask.
“Ready-made family,” she says, waggling her eyebrows.
I bark out one of those delirious ‘I can’t believe this is happening’ laughs.
Taking me by the hand, she tugs me along the path. “Now, come with me. I have some news that will cheer you right up.”
* * *
“Retiring? Really?” I ask Junior for the third time.
Junior, Harrison, and I are standing in the reception area of the Brazilian restaurant so we’ll be out of the way of the staff who are in full dinner service prep mode.
“Yes,” he says, smiling at me. “You don’t have to keep begging around the resort for someone to swap with you anymore.”
I stare at Harrison for a moment. “Really?” I whisper.
“Really, Emma. You’ve earned it. You stuck it out on Eden for six months and you pulled off a miracle for our wedding dinner,” he says, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I’m really proud of you, kiddo.”
“Thanks,” I say, looking around at my new life. Maybe it’s true what they say about God opening a window when a door slams in your face.
Junior beams at me. “You’re going to be great. And I’ve been telling Harrison I think you should test out your Carib-Asian idea one night a week to start. See how it goes over.”
“I’d love that,” I say, smiling, even though I’m not as happy as I wish I were at this moment. I’m basically trying to fake that I’m delighted because, to be honest, even though I’m taking another giant step forward in my career, and even though I don’t have to live on that crap houseboat anymore, I’m still terrified that I just made the worst mistake of my life yesterday. Oh, shit. I think I did. Tears fill my eyes and I try to blink them back inside.
Harrison tilts his head. “You okay, Em?”
Nodding quickly, I say, “I’m just so happy.”
One of the servers pokes her head out the kitchen door and tells Junior he’s needed. He gives me a wink and says, “As of Monday, she’ll be callingyouto put out the fires.”
“Hopefully only figurative fires, not real ones,” Harrison adds.
I smile, still stunned that this is happening on the heels of the worst day of my life. I follow Harrison out the door and down the path toward the beach. I can feel him staring at me so I keep a big smile plastered on my face. I know I should be saying something—lots of things about how excited and grateful I am--but somehow, I can’t find the words right now.
