Chapter Thirty-Four

Igrinned all the way to Sri Lanka. That stupid smile I could not erase got me unwanted attention. When Jessica asked what had happened, I tried to make a serious face which made me giggle even more.

"I'm ready to bet my monthly salary it's tied to that handsome man," she whispered.

I just shrugged. The flight was crowded, and the three of us kept bumping elbows. The book Arthur told me about was good, but my thoughts kept wandering away.

Eventually, I closed my eyes and tried not to smile even wider. It felt good to be with Arthur, light, easy, fun. A comparison started creeping into my mind, to a brother and sister who meant the world to me before. And as much as I wanted to compare my feelings for Arthur to what I felt with them, I could not. I didn't remember how I felt before the all-consuming grief ate everything inside, before my heart cracked that day at their parent's house—the swift movement of curtains planting a final blow.

I was not smiling anymore.

I hurt for the girl who was left behind, for the boy who didn't live, and for the girl who disappeared. I didn't want it to define me, but as much as I wanted to believe in the goodness of people, I could not anymore. Love was just too massive, too painful. And I was not ready to feel it again.

I just hoped Arthur would listen to me because he was a light I was ready to accept. I hoped I was enough fun for him—to be friends with benefits. And those benefits, god. A pulsing tightness squeezed my core as I remembered his lips between my thighs. He ate and sucked me as if I were the most delicious ice cream he had ever tasted.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Jess was sleeping, Dave watched a movie, and I was blushing vigorously again. Maybe I could take a naked selfie or two.

* * *

Jessica squealed as we stepped off the plane. The wet warmth of the air instantly clung to my skin, and I did my best to blink the feeling away as Dave put on his sunglasses.

The flight was too long, the transfer was too short, leaving us to run across the airport to catch our next flight. I hoped they managed to transfer our bags because after spending even a few seconds in the humid Sri Lankan air, I already needed to change.

I could also already feel the excruciating jet lag creeping in, and I could not understand how Arthur managed those flights so easily. It was my bedtime at home, but at our destination, the sun continued to blaze in the blueness of the sky.

I fumbled for my phone and sent Arthur a text saying how I had possibly exaggerated the beauty of travel, because all I could think about in that moment was shower and sleep.

Tomorrow you'll feel better,he replied.

A short smiling man held a sheet of paper with our names on it and greeted us when an excited Jess and a red-eyed Dave accompanied my tired self out of the airport. He gathered our three massive suitcases and rolled them to a white minibus, heavenly cool air wafting from inside.

I scooted to a window, Dave stretched his long legs on the rear row of seats, closed his eyes, and started snoring lightly within a minute. Jessica sat by the driver and spilled a million questions a minute on him. The driver, only glad to have someone to talk to, started explaining the old Sri Lanka"s traditions. I looked at Dave with envy and put on my noise-canceling headphones, slow acoustic rock murmuring in my ears. I closed my eyes.

Someone was shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see Jessica's face inches from mine. Small beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead.

"We're here, Emily," she said when I pulled down my headphones. "It's a paradise."

Dave was standing outside already, rubbing his eyes. Jessica jumped from the car and cried as our project manager walked out of the lobby.

Olga was a stern Ukrainian woman in her thirties, with a hard gaze, but a warm smile. She kept the goals of our project clear, and steered the ship with an iron fist, helping us secure the sale of our project.

She reached the car, patted Dave on the shoulder, gave Jessica a coconut with a bright pink concoction, and looked inside the vehicle at me.

"Half of our guys are sleeping, the other half are drinking by the ocean. No major meeting today. You'll find an invitation for tomorrow's breakfast in your rooms. It'll be with the CEO, so best be early. But for now, we're free to wander," Olga said.

"I'm wandering in the direction of the bed," I said, climbing out.

A short laugh, more like a bark, was Olga's signature sound. She pointed in the direction of reception, and I grabbed my suitcase and rolled it along the uneven pavement made up of small white stones.

It didn't roll that well, so I ended up dragging it, an unpleasant grating sound following me as I went.

A nice woman in white typed my name into the system and gave me a key card for my room. A smiling teenager wearing a white uniform picked up my bag and asked me to follow him.

My room was not a room at all. It was a tiny bungalow hidden in the dense greenery, the sound of the ocean coming through the windows. A small backyard opened to a tiny pool, wide banana leaves sheltering it from the outside world.

I thanked the boy and shuffled to the bathroom, washing my hands and splashing water on my face. I grabbed my phone and checked the Wi-Fi reception. To my delight it was strong. Arthur picked up after the third ring. He was wearing a gray shirt, his elbow propped on a dark blue pillow.

"I have news," I blurted instead of greeting. "I think I hate traveling. How the hell do you do it all the time?"

"It was a bad flight, was it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Did I wake you?"

"It's okay, I'm glad you called," he said, his heavy accent tilting on the edges.

I smiled and looked at my screen. It was good to see and hear him.

"Emily?"

I cleared my throat. "Anyway, the flight was packed. And those babies. Where do they get the energy to cry non-stop? My noise-canceling headphones didn't help. There was also basically no place for my legs. It was just constant screaming and shuffling for hours."

"And you say that I'm posh," he mumbled.

"I guess you're right, I'm whining. Look."

I turned the camera and showed him the pool and my bungalow. Arthur just whistled.

"Wow, this new company spent a lot on this trip," Arthur said.

"Yeah, we're meeting the CEO tomorrow. I hope my headache will be gone by the time I need to open my mouth."

"Get some rest, Emily. You just need to sleep and stay hydrated, and that god-awful flight will feel like a dream tomorrow. You'll love Sri Lanka, just enjoy your time, okay?"

I nodded. "Thanks."

"What are you thinking?"

I shook my head. "Nothing."

His eyebrow went up, and a smirk touched the edges of his lips. "Oh, I know. You just realized that you're missing me already."

I laughed. "Thank god not everyone has such a massive ego," I said, still laughing. But he was right, I was missing him. And it was new. So new that I could not allow myself to dwell on it.

"Get some rest, Emily. You can even dream of me."

"You are impossible!" I said, but both of us were smiling. "Bye, Arthur."

He was grinning when I ended the call.

"Impossible," I murmured and unzipped my suitcase.

The shower was indeed a paradise, warm rivulets cascading down my skin. The sound of waves crashing was a low murmur against the silence when I lowered myself into my huge bed. I would explore the island in the morning, I told myself. The morning would bring even better things. But right then, I needed to sleep.

It was almost instant—my consciousness slipped from Sri Lanka to a man who was sleeping thousands of miles away, to nothingness.