Lonely?
The single word rang in my mind like a warning bell.
Ten minutes ago, he had a woman who looked like a supermodel lifted up on her toes in the biggest hug I’d ever seen.
Eleven minutes ago, murmurs circulated around the deck so loud that even a child could have imagined what they were saying,
But twelve… Twelve minutes ago, his thumbs were entwined with the belt loop of my shorts—and I was so enthralled with him, I would have given him anything he’d asked for.
So, did I believe Dean Weston had ever been lonely? Not even for a little bit.
The door whipped open then, and a young woman skittered to a stop in the entryway. She looked about thirty, wearing blue jeans, with her bright red hair tied up in a knot on the top of her head. “I was just”—she sounded almost panicked—“coming to make sure everything was okay? You’ve been gone an awfully long time,” she said to Helen.
The old woman lifted the baby with outstretched arms and handed her over. “It was touch and go there for a little while, but we made it through, now didn’t we goose?” she said to the baby.
The two women began talking about someone named Blair, and I took this as a sign to quietly excuse myself to one of the stalls.
I set down the lid, and sat on the toilet fully clothed, allowing myself time to decompress… to reflect on why I was so bothered.
Dean was nothing to me. I barely knew the guy.
If anything, his finding another woman to spend the weekend with would release me from this ridiculous obligation I’d somehow locked myself into.
I pulled out my cell phone, intending to pull up my contract with Dean, wondering if there was a clause that would get me out of this mess, when a message from John caught my attention.
John:Text me when you get there.
John:Don’t forget. You know I worry.
It came in three hours ago and I didn’t see it.Damn!
Me:I’m here. I’m safe. I’ll be heading to my first massage in an hour.
I held my breath, guilt over my elaborate lie making my heart patter.
He wouldn’t understand. Or if he did, he wouldn’t like it. He’d ask too many questions, and I just didn’t have the strength to answer them right now—or probably ever.
UNDELIVERED
The message appeared almost as soon as my message was sent. Then I remembered Dean and Thomas's conversation about cell towers.
“Shit!” I said under my breath.
“Everything okay?” Helen asked from somewhere on the other side of the door.
I’d expected her to be gone already, but she was still out there. Doing what? I had no idea.
“Oh, it’s fine.” I replied, “I was just… talking to myself.”
I opened the door a second later, finding Helen leaning over the counter, reapplying a thin layer of coral lipstick to lips that already looked flawless.
I walked over to the sink, washed my hands, then took a pristine white hand towel out of a basket.
“It was nice meeting you,” I said, as I made my way to the laundry basket.
“Can I see it?" she asked.
I halted halfway across the room, so confused by the question that I turned around to face her again. “Excuse me?”
