Chapter 9

Faye

After I stop crying long enough to see my computer screen, I realize my heart hurts so much that I can’t even concentrate on planning my trip. I am second guessing my decisions, and I am not that kind of person. ‘Boldly Go’ has always been my motto, but now I feel stuck. Everything with Grady has made me doubt myself.

I really do need to find a distraction. Right now. I am so far ahead in my schoolwork that missing a week won’t make a difference in the semester. I need time to think, away from any possibility of running into Grady.

The only problem with the places I have pulled up on my screen is that I haven’t gotten my passport back yet. I didn’t think I would be able to travel so soon. It might be another month before I see my new one, according to the application website.

“That’s okay,” I say firmly. “There’s plenty of amazing places here in America.”

In fact, one of the top places on my travel bucket list doesn’t require a passport at all. I hurry to book my ticket to Puerto Rico, feeling the first stirrings of life when I’m able to get a flight out first thing in the morning. Next, I splurge on the most fabulous, all-inclusive resort on the bay that I can find.

By the time I have everything booked and paid for, it takes the rest of the night to pack, and by the time the sun begins to shine through my window, it’s time to leave for the airport. Dragging my rolling suitcase behind me, I have to double back because I forgot to tell Jen I was leaving. She was out last night and I didn’t want to bother her with my sob story. I knock on her door, glad to realize she’s already awake.

“What’s up,” Jen asks, looking up from her laptop in bed.

“I need to get away, I booked a trip to Puerto Rico last night. I need to see something new, clear my head, and experience the world. I’m leaving for the airport right now,” I tell her.

Jen stares at me for a second before jumping up and hugging me. “That’s great! You need to start doing stuff for you rather than worrying about everything and everyone else. By the time you get back, you’ll feel better and I’ll have a new apartment for us,” she flips her computer around to show me the apartment she found. “It’s the least I could do to take some stress off you right now,” she adds. I try not to start crying – again – and thank her for finding a place when she knew I couldn’t focus.

With another hug, I tell her I love her and I’ll see her when I get back. I tell her I am thinking of turning my phone off for the trip so she shouldn’t worry if I’m less responsive than normal.

After sprinting out the door, I manage to make it to the airport just in time to get through security before boarding. I can’t believe I’m really doing this.

I manage to catch up on some sleep on the plane, and excitement at seeing all the new sights pushes aside my heartache enough that I think I might be well on my way to healing. The taxi driver is friendly and chatty, telling me about a dozen different places I should see during my visit.

The air is hot and much balmier than what I’m used to and I’m glad I packed light sundresses and sandals. The room is even nicer than it looked on the resort’s website, with a fully stocked bar and a welcome fruit basket on the table. Outside on the balcony there’s a sweeping view of the vast bay where I hope to see the tiny organisms that cause the water to light up like magic after night falls.

This should be perfect, but I can’t seem to make myself enjoy the moment. I need to get outside and start enjoying all this resort has to offer. I force myself to leave the room, searching for the same excitement I felt when the plane landed. The pool area is almost like a jungle, with long winding paths leading through flowering shrubs and palm trees toward the beach. The sound of the manmade waterfall crashing into the crystal blue waters of the massive pool makes a soothing backdrop to the live band playing at the bar nearby.

“Well, hello,” a guy who’s maybe a couple years older than me says when we almost collide on the path toward the bar. “Let me buy you whatever you’re drinking.”

He’s handsome, not much taller than me, which has never been a deal breaker before, but all I can picture is how Grady towers over me, having to lean down to kiss me. He has sandy blond hair, which I instantly compare to Grady’s dark strands. His eyes are blue. Pretty enough, but there’s nothing deep going on behind them. Not like Grady who always seems to be brooding over something.

Damn it. All of a sudden there are tears in my eyes. The nice guy asks if I’m alright and if there’s anything he can do to help. A fling might help me get over my heartbreak, but as good looking and seemingly sweet as this guy is, it makes my skin crawl to think about letting him touch me.

I only want Grady to touch me, ever again. And I totally screwed myself out of that option.

I manage to thank the guy and change course toward the beach, not wanting anyone else to hit on me at the bar. Even accepting a soda from another man makes me want to throw up. What’s wrong with me? Will I ever be normal again?

Not without Grady, my cruel thoughts whisper in my head.

Not even the ocean can help me, and I stumble back to my room and into bed. I think a full night’s sleep will help me, and hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to find the strength to get out and enjoy this beautiful island.