2. Girls’ Weekend
Girls’ Weekend
Five days after I agreed to a "quiet, relaxing, mature weekend," I found myself standing in the middle of an airport terminal at six-thirty in the morning, holding a coffee the size of my head while my sister practically vibrated with excitement beside me.
"Why are you smiling like that?" I asked.
Claire adjusted her sunglasses. "What smile?"
That one. The smile she got right before making terrible decisions.
I narrowed my eyes. "I don't trust you."
"That's hurtful."
"It's accurate."
Claire laughed. Unfortunately, she wasn't offended.
My phone buzzed with a text from
MARK
Safe travels. Call me when you land. Miss you already.
A warm feeling settled in my chest. It wasn't fireworks or passion; it was comfort. And comfort mattered, especially after spending years rebuilding my life.
"What did Prince Charming say?" Claire asked.
I slipped my phone into my purse. "He told me to have fun."
Claire snorted. "Poor guy. He has no idea what he's unleashed."
I groaned, but the boarding announcement saved me from asking any follow-up questions, for now.
Two hours later, we landed. The moment I stepped outside the airport, warm ocean air wrapped around me.
The breeze carried the scent of saltwater and sunscreen, palm trees swayed overhead, and the sky stretched endlessly blue.
For the first time in weeks, my shoulders relaxed.
Maybe Claire had been right. Maybe I needed this.
"Well?" she asked.
I glanced around at the beach shops, restaurants, tourists, and sunshine, a smile tugged at my lips. "It's beautiful."
Claire grinned. "I know."
A black SUV pulled up, and the driver stepped out. "Ms. Parker?"
Claire immediately grabbed the handle of her suitcase. "That's us."
I blinked. "Wait. How much did this trip cost?"
Her expression became suspiciously innocent. Too innocent. "I got a deal."
"You never get deals."
"I got lucky."
I stared at her, and she stared back. The driver awkwardly looked away. Finally, Claire sighed. "Fine. I put it on my credit card."
"Claire."
"What?"
"You can't spend money like this."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm celebrating my sister."
"You need retirement savings."
"I need vitamin D."
I climbed into the SUV before the conversation could continue. We had been having this exact argument for fifteen years, and neither of us had ever won.
The hotel was ridiculous; there was no other word for it. The lobby alone was larger than my entire house. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, a fountain sat in the middle of the room, and a piano player performed near a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean.
I stopped walking again. Claire looked entirely too pleased with herself. "You spent a fortune."
"Worth it."
"No."
"Yes."
I looked around once more, took a breath, and sighed. "Okay, maybe a little worth it."
Claire fist-pumped.
Our suite overlooked the beach. It had two bedrooms, a living room, a balcony, a kitchen, and a bathtub big enough to host a small conference.
I dropped my suitcase beside the bed while Claire immediately flopped backward onto it. "This is perfect."
I walked toward the balcony doors. The ocean stretched endlessly before me as waves rolled toward the shore.
Below, people wandered along the beach, children laughed, and seagulls circled overhead.
There was no work, no wedding planning, and no responsibilities, just sunlight and ocean air.
The only issue I had was that the heat and humidity made my hands swell to the point that my ring finger was slightly bulging.
I felt bad, but I had to take it off and place it in my suitcase until the swelling subsided.
My phone buzzed again.
MARK
Miss you.
I smiled, but then another message appeared right after it.
Send me a picture.
I snapped a photo of the beach and sent it off.
Beautiful view.
I stared at the message, then at the ocean, then back at my phone.
"Okay," Claire's voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to find her sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking far too serious.
"That tone makes me nervous."
"As it should."
I sighed. "What now?"
She pointed a finger at me. "Ground rules."
Oh God. "No."
"Yes."
"Why do we need rules?"
"Because you're engaged," she said, "and because you're incapable of relaxing."
I gasped, but she ignored me. "Rule number one. No wedding talk."
I paused. Actually, that sounded nice. "No wedding talk?"
"None."
I considered it, then nodded. "Fine."
"Rule number two - no work."
"Done."
"No checking email."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good." She pointed dramatically again. "Rule number three: no being responsible."
I blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
"That's not a rule."
"It is now."
"Absolutely not."
Claire threw a pillow at me, and I caught it, mostly because her aim was terrible. "Jennifer."
"I'm forty-three," I argued.
"So?"
"So being responsible is basically my personality."
"That's exactly the problem."
I laughed, but then unexpectedly, her expression softened into a real smile, not her mischievous one, and not her plotting one. Just Claire.
"I'm serious," she said, her sudden softness catching me off guard. "You spend your entire life taking care of everyone else."
I opened my mouth to protest, but she kept going. "Students, former students, neighbors, the cat."
"That cat definitely doesn't need me."
"He'd disagree." I rolled my eyes, but Claire stood up and walked toward me anyway. "You deserve one weekend where you don't have to think."
I looked out at the ocean again, the waves sparkling beneath the afternoon sun.
One weekend. That was all. Then it would be back to reality, back to wedding planning, back to Mark, and back to becoming someone's wife.
The thought should have excited me, but instead, it made my stomach twist just slightly.
Claire nudged my shoulder. "You okay?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah."
She studied me, clearly unconvinced, before her expression suddenly brightened. Which was somehow worse, "We're going out tonight."
I closed my eyes. "There it is."
"What?"
"The reason for this trip."
"This is not the reason."
"It absolutely is."
Claire laughed while I groaned. Judging by the dangerous sparkle in her eyes, she had plans.
They were plans that almost certainly involved alcohol, possibly dancing, and definitely regret.
The only question was whether I would survive them, or whether this weekend was about to become the biggest mistake of my life.