Without another word, he kisses me on the head, rises, and goes into the bathroom. From that moment on, I’m plagued with anxiety, and it doesn’t go away.
The next morning, when I wake up, he is already fully dressed and sitting at the breakfast table.
I pull myself into a seated position on the bed, frowning at him, trying not to show how devastated I am by his rejection the night before.He’s tired of me, and this is his way of winding things down before he fires me the minute we’re home.
Once the thought is in my head, it won’t fade, and as I sit up, waiting to hear what he’s going to say, my stomach flips unpleasantly.
Last night was the first night we ever shared a bed together, and it felt like I was lying beside a stranger. I feel cold, rejected, and vulnerable, but I attempt to keep my expression blank as he turns to me.
I’m doubly confused by the bright smile on his face.
“I had an idea,” he says, rising from his chair and clapping his hands together.
“Have I overslept?” I ask, mortified to think that I’ve been dozing while he’s been waiting for me to wake up.
I’m an escort; I should be more attuned to his needs than this.
If there was anything that proves I’m an amateur, this vacation is it. Christ, he’s probably thinking about all the times we’ve been together and ticking off all the things I’m terrible at.
“Amelia?” he says, looking down at me with concern.
How did this happen? Am I in love? Is this why it hurts so much?
“What is it?” he’s about to sit on the bed, but I get up quickly, pulling the sheet behind me, covering the front of my body with it. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever done—he’s seen me nakedcountless times, but once I have it clutched against my skin, I can’t let it go.
“I’ll get changed,” I say hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to make you wait for me. We’re only here for one more day as it is.”
I back into the bathroom.
“Amelia?” he looks puzzled. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes. Yes! I’m just gonna throw on some clothes and I’ll be ready.”
A few minutes later, when I emerge from the bathroom, Lucas is in shorts with palm trees all over them, grinning from ear to ear. I can’t help but laugh at him as he opens the door to our hut with a flourish and drags me out into the sunshine. It turns out, the idea Lucas was talking about is a tropical swim with turtles. Several companies on the island offer the service, and it should be an exciting prospect, but, yet again, our options are limited because of me.
I’ve never learned to scuba dive, but Lucas is certified in Open Water diving. He doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of abilities; however, he takes the change of plans in his stride as we choose snorkeling instead.
He even puts a hand casually around my waist as we walk toward the boats.
I know it’s for show, but the ache that has been growing inside me since we landed triples in seconds.
I really care about him. I want this to be real.
But it never will be.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks me as we reach the boat. “You seem really tense today. Have I upset you somehow? Are you worried about your sister?”
I’m so grateful to have an excuse for my morose mood that I nod too enthusiastically and before I know it, he’s handed me his phone.
“Call her. I’m gonna talk to the guide about our trip. Take as long as you want.”
I watch him go, touched by his kindness, and call Annabelle. Even though it’s past 10 p.m. in New York, she answers on the third ring, beyond excited to hear from me.
After a jubilant conversation where my sister asks me thirty questions in under a minute about what I’ve been doing, I’m smiling broadly again.
Annabelle has reminded me that I will never get an opportunity like this again. I’m being treated to an all-expenses-paid trip to the Maldives, and I need to start enjoying myself instead of getting tied up with what’s going on with Lucas.
Once I’m on the boat, I feel better, and he brightens when he sees me smiling.
