Fuuuck
The notification at the top of the screen signals that he’s typing, but I need to end this conversation if I plan on getting adequate rest, so I send a quickgood nightwith a kiss emoji, then silence my notifications.
As I settle into the mattress, all sorts of thoughts bubble to the surface. Does he really think some bigger power is at play here? I don’t believe in stuff like that, do I?
My mom is Christian and my dad is Jewish, so I grew up eclectically religious. My parents would cherry-pick holidays. Sometimes we’d get dressed up and go to church for my mom, and sometimes we’d go to synagogue for my dad. But after he died, it was hard to believe an entity like God really existed. How could such a powerful being take away a person I loved so much?
In Jewish tradition, when a person dies, their loved ones sit shiva—a weeklong mourning period following their burial. It’s meant to be a time for mourners to come together for spiritual and emotional healing. At ten, I didn’t understand the meaning behind it but relished the weeklong sleepover with my cousins. I didn’t understand why mirrors had to be covered with cloth or why candles were constantly burning, but I appreciated the delicious spread of tuna, kugel, brisket, and bagels with cream cheese and lox from my dad’s favorite delicatessen.
People loved to pat me on the head and say things like “your dad was such a good man” and “he’s in a better place now” and “everything happens for a reason.” Even now, I hate that last phrase. There should be a law against uttering those words to a person who’s just lost a loved one.
For a long time, I was convinced God took my dad from me topunish me for some unknown sin. It took years of therapy to understand that wasn’t the case and that his death didn’t serve a bigger purpose.
When it comes down to it, bad things happen to good people all the time. Searching for a reason won’t change the facts.It’s what we do next that matters most.
That all leads back to my question about Cam and me. Is this happening for a reason? Is it fate? Destiny? Or is this just life?
I sit up straight when my alarm goes off, cursing myself for not choosing a gentler tone for such an early morning. Snagging my phone off the nightstand, I paw at the illuminated screen to silence the cursed thing and catch sight of the time. Shit. It’s 6:25 already. I unlock the screen and discover that I set the first alarm for six fifteenp.m.Because of course I did.
“Ugh, Millie, we overslept. It’s time to get up.”
When she doesn’t even groan in protest, I swat at her, only to hit the cold sheets where she should still be snoozing.
What the heck? If she’s already up, why didn’t she wake me?
With a huff, I roll out of bed and open the drapes, then make my way to the bathroom. It’s also empty.
“Millie?” I shuffle back to the bed to grab my phone so I can call her, and that’s when I notice the folded piece of paper on the nightstand.
Went for a run. Meet you at the front desk – xo, M
A run before a hike? She loves her fancy Pilates classes, but this is a little overboard.
Sitting on the patio with a coffee in hand, I open my text thread with Cam. My traitorous facial muscles contort into a goofy grin the second our exchange appears. Damn, I wish I’dgone to his room last night. I’m only on this island for a few more days. I want to soak up as much of him as I can, because when we get back to the otherisland—Manhattan—there will be no more soaking. I made that perfectly clear.
Getting cheated on fucked me up, and I refuse to go down that path again. The path where I lose a part of myself in a guy. I need to focus on my career, and I cannot have any distractions.
Our driver is meeting us out front at seven, so I quickly drain my coffee and get ready for the day. I scarf down a banana and toss an apple into my foldable nylon backpack.
Slathered in sunscreen and with my hair thrown up in a messy bun, I head downstairs and swipe a complimentary bottle of water from the lobby, then scan the open space.Where the hell is she?
I’ve got both thumbs poised over the screen of my phone when a puff of warm air hits my neck and a familiar voice rumbles in my ear. “I couldn’t sleep at all last night. You fucking tease.”
Cam’s stubble tickles my cheek, sending goose bumps down my arms and a shiver down my spine. I spin, and when he comes into view, decked out in a backward hat and fitted white tee, my phone slides out of my hand and clatters to the floor.
He bends to pick it up, deliberately dragging his fingertips along the outside of my bare leg on the way up.
“What are you doing here?” I survey the lobby, but besides the concierge, we’re the only people here this early. On the other side of the glass doors, a black car pulls up to the curb and idles. “Where’s Millie?”
“About that.” Cam adjusts his backpack on his shoulders. “I’m taking her place.”
“What?” I take a step back and whirl in a circle. “Where is she?”
“Let’s walk and talk. Our ride is here.” Hemotions to the door with his chin, and while I’m utterly confused about this little switcheroo, I let him press a hand to the small of my back and guide me to the car.
We settle in the back seat, and after the driver confirms our destination, we turn toward each other, knocking knees in the process.
“Well? Explain to me why you’re here and Millie is not,” I demand, tugging at the hem of my white tank.
