Wild@Heart:Mexico?
Cursive&Caffeine:More likely Costa Rica.
Wild@Heart:Nice. But seriously, please don’t.
Cursive&Caffeine:I won’t.
I stare at myself one more time.
I’m wearing my hair down—I almost never wear it down, but tonight feels like just the occasion. I’ve also donned a little mascara, lipstick, and the dangly earrings my mom gave me for my thirtieth birthday. It’s me. The version I forgot existed somewhere between diapers and divorce papers and the daily grind.
Simon's at Javi's for the weekend. He practically sprinted to his dad's car when Javi picked him up, which stung before I reminded myself that his absence is the only reason I'm able to do this.
I told Beth I needed a solo weekend to decompress. "A mental health retreat," I said, which isn't technically a lie. My mental health is very much involved.
Beth gave me a look…similar to the one I used to give her. She’s gotten so ballsy since Aiden came into the picture. I can’t say I don’t like it though.
But I'll deal with that later. Right now, I have bigger problems. In about an hour and a half, I'm going to be face-to-face with the man who talked me out of my clothes via text message and made me climax on a phone call and who I have frighteningly deep feelings for.
And I don't even know what he looks like.
The drive to the lodge takes just over an hour, and I spend every minute of it in a war with myself. The rational part of my brain—the teacher, the mother, the woman who is organized to a T—is calmly listing all the reasons this could go to hell.
He could be disappointed.
I could be disappointed.
The chemistry might fizzle into nothingness.
This whole beautiful thing we've built could shatter the second reality walks in.
The other part of my brain—the part that's been slowly waking up over the past few weeks, stretching and blinking in the light—just whispers:But what if it’s absolutely amazing?!
The lodge is stunning. It’s nestled into the mountainside as if it grew there, all timber and stone and enormous windows reflecting the late-afternoon sky. The parking lot is scattered with cars, and I can see other couples milling around the entrance, some nervous and some already holding hands.
These are real people who fell for strangers, the same as me.
I sit in my car with the engine off. I’m afraid my heart is going to fly out of my chest.
I could leave. I could text him some excuse…Simon got sick, work emergency, alien abduction…and drive home and crawl into the bath with a book and pretend this never happened. Go back to being safe and lonely and fine.
But I think about his voice on the phone. How he calls metroublelike the word was made for me. And I think about the way he told me he'd take care of me, and how much I wanted to believe him.
I grab my purse, get out of the car, and walk inside on legs that feel as if they're made of cooked spaghetti.
The retreat coordinator is a cheerful woman named Janis with a clipboard and the energy of someone who's witnessed a lot of love stories unfold in this lobby.
She checks me in, explains the format—private reveal rooms for each matched couple, followed by dinner in individual cabins—and points me down a hallway lined with doors, each with a small card holder outside.
“Good luck,” she says, as I walk off to find my room. A few doors down I see a card that reads:Cursive&Caffeine + Wild@Heart.
Seeing our names together in print makes it feel all too real.
I push open the door. The room is small and cozy. There’s a loveseat, a window overlooking the pines, soft lighting. It’s intimate without being claustrophobic.
I'm supposed to wait here and they’ll direct him to come to me.
I sit on the loveseat. Stand up. Sit back down. Cross my legs. Uncross them. Smooth my dress. Check my phone. Put it away. Pick it back up.
