Lucky. Right. Lucky to be hopelessly in love with my best friend who had the worst taste in men. Because Elijah’s current boyfriend, Bernard, was a walking red flag with the personality of expired yogurt and the emotional range of a parking meter. Rudest florist I’d ever met, especially to me, and so insecure about Elijah’s friendship with me that he’d actually suggested we “needed boundaries.” That was all Elijah and I had. Boundaries.
But sure. Lucky.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah?” I glanced at her, hating that I’d zoned out.
Blinking, my grandma was leaning forward, concern etched across her face, studying me a little too closely.
“You okay, honey? You went somewhere else for a minute there.”
“Yeah. Just tired. Been pulling long hours lately.” Not a lie. Between the release deadline and the seventeen-hour days, sleep had become theoretical.
“You’re working yourself too hard, sweetheart.”
“Part of the job.” I took another bite of my sandwich, wishing it had a little more mustard.
“Doesn't mean it's healthy.” She studied me with that grandmother x-ray vision that saw through every lie I’d ever attempted. “Hold on. Have something for you.”
She stood, squeezed my shoulder, then disappeared into the living room. My phone buzzed again. Definitely work. Definitely ignoring it.
When she returned, she carried a small cream-colored envelope in her hand. After sitting back down, she slid it across the table toward me.
“What’s this?”
“Your birthday’s coming up. I wanted to give you this early so you could actually plan for it.”
Plan for what? I opened the envelope with growing confusion. Inside were two tickets with a cruise line logo across the top. The Caribbean. Four days, three nights. Departure date in middle of February. I stared at them. Blinked. Stared some more.
“Grandma, I can’t—.”
“You can and you will.” Her tone left no room for argument. “You work too hard, Sammy. You need a break, and you need to actually take it this time. That's why I’m giving them to you now. So you can request the time off and not make excuses.”
Words failed me. Completely and utterly failed.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Enjoy yourself, sweetheart.” She patted my hand when I sat back down. “And take someone fun. Life's too short to go on vacation alone.”
“I will.” The lie came easily, even though my brain had already conjured the image of Elijah on a ship deck, wind in his blond hair, hazel eyes bright against the ocean backdrop.
I dismissed the thought immediately. Elijah was dating Bernard. And Bernard would throw a tantrum of epic proportions if I suggested a tropical vacation with his boyfriend. Never mind that Elijah and I had been friends years before Bernard showed up.
Logic meant nothing to the chronically insecure.
“Thank you.” I stood and wrapped my arms around her, feeling her small frame against mine and wondering how someone so tiny could be so impossibly stubborn.
Twenty minutes later I left her house, the envelope burning a hole in my pocket. It wasn’t until I’d slipped behind the wheel and stared the engine that the date of the cruise struck me.
Valentine's Day weekend. My grandmother had given me cruise tickets for basically the Love Boat.
Back at the office, I submitted my PTO request before I could overthink it. Melissa from HR approved it within ten minutes, which felt vaguely miraculous given the usual bureaucratic nightmare.
At my desk, I sat there wondering who I could take with me. Anyone I asked would get the wrong impression once they found out the dates. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in months, and the only person I wanted to take was Elijah.
What had my grandmother been thinking?
“Ooh, Someone’s taking time off,” sang Priya from her desk adjacent to mine. She and Jordan—our QA lead—had a direct line to every piece of office gossip. Between the two of them, I knew more about upper management's drama than I ever wanted to. Last week I’d learned that our VP was having an affair with someone from accounting. This week, apparently the CFO was getting divorced. Working in tech meant surrounding myself with people who treated drama like currency.
