Chapter 15Hazel
Chapter 15
Hazel
I blink a couple of times and stare up at the ceiling fan.
How is it that I’m in a resort that uses the slogan ‘rest, relax, and recharge’ in their marketing, and yet I have not had one restful night of sleep since I arrived?
This bed is so big and just the right amount soft. The pillows aren’t that super puffy type that crick my neck. They’re stuffed with down feathers that are wonderfully supple and fluffy at the same time.
The temperature last night was perfect. The bungalow was nice and quiet.
And yet, I barely slept.
I blame Jack.
He stood right there on my front stoop, looking down at me with those dreamy eyes.
He stood close enough that I could breathe in his intoxicating scent. That musky, particular-to-him aroma that makes me go weak at the knees.
Maybe what I have on my hands is a problem with pheromones. Maybe his pheromones are doing something to me, and that’s why I can barely think.
Darn you, hormones .
The ceiling fan above me swishes. Early morning light filters in through the slatted blinds.
If I lie here for even two more seconds, I will think about Jack all over again… and how badly I wanted to invite him in last night.
Eek.
I drape my elbow over my face.
Maybe I’m not Sales Manager material.
Sales Managers shouldn’t pine over their employees.
I am pining over Jack Morgan right now, and it is completely and totally inappropriate. In fact, most of my interactions with Jack have been inappropriate.
The first day on the island was justifiable. I didn’t know.
The second day…?
That was just wrong of me. So wrong.
I drag my arm away from my face and then blink away the light all over again. Next, I make myself sit up.
Time to get moving.
I’ve waited too long to get back to the company CEO. There’s a significant time change between the company headquarters in New York and me here in Hawaii. I need to email Fabian back before he finishes up work for the day. Otherwise, I’ll look like a slacker.
I force thoughts about the Dreamy Jack Morgan out of my sleep-deprived mind.
I can’t risk a trip to the only restaurant with a buffet-style breakfast because I could run into Mr. Hunk himself. I need some time away from Jack if I’m going to think straight. So, I rummage in my suitcase for one of the packets of instant coffee I always keep on hand.
The bungalow has a microwave. I fill a mug with bottled water, zap it for two minutes, then shake in powdered coffee. It’s not as tasty as actual brew, but it will do.
I carry the concoction to the couch, then sit cross-legged. As I take my first sip, my cell phone rings.
“I knew you’d be up,” Alexis gushes as soon as I answer. “I bet you watched the sunrise.”
“I wish.”
“You didn’t?”
“I was too lost in thought.”
“ Girl! I was picturing you on some white sand beach, watching pink tint the waves. You’re not still upset about this Jack Morgan thing, are you?”
I twist a strand of hair nervously. ‘Upset’ doesn’t even come close to how torn I feel.
“Lex, this is a big deal,” I say. “And yeah. I’m still freaking out about it. I know it probably sounds romantic... I mean, I fly to an island, meet a gorgeous guy?—”
“With abs of steel, you said. Didn’t you say that? This is once-in-a-lifetime stuff, honey. Honolulu with a gorgeous guy? Come on. You won the lottery. All you need to do right now is thank your lucky stars and enjoy every single freaking minute of?—”
“I can’t.” I rub my forehead. “It’s not how it sounds. It’s complicated, Lex. Like, really complicated. And I’m making it worse because I keep getting swept away when I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t have gotten so dolled up last night for what was supposed to be a freaking work meeting…”
I drift, thinking about how different parts of me were at war last night while getting ready for dinner with Jack.
“That was so stupid of me,” I fret aloud. “I did the smokey-eye effect, plus my cherry red lipstick, and I swapped my flip-flops for ballet flats…”
She bursts out laughing.
I scowl.
“What?” I sip my coffee. It isn’t good. The bitter taste bites at my cheeks. But the ends justify the means; if this helps me wake up a bit after my poor night of sleep, it’s worth it.
I pucker my lips and brace myself as I draw in another sip.
I’m also making this face because Alexis is still laughing.
“Whew!” she gasps. “Okay, sorry, you get me sometimes with these things you say. Believe me, wearing your ballet flats is not as scandalous as you’re making it out to be.”
“I’m trying to explain that my head was in the wrong place going into that meeting.”
“So, you wanted to look cute. So what? I sometimes wear red lipstick just to go to the grocery store. It’s not wrong to want to feel pretty. You can do that for you, not ‘cause of some guy.”
“That’s the thing, though. I didn’t do it for me. I did it for him . And he’s not just some guy. Not anymore.”
I’m getting to know Jack.
His quirks, his tells, his moods.
I’m learning there’s way more to him than I’ve ever given him credit for over these past ten months.
“He’s not just the cocky, reckless guy I thought he was,” I tell my friend. “Yes, he’s confident, and yes, he likes risk. But he’s also incredibly smart, beneath all that bravado… and it seems like he has a huge, generous heart.”
“Whoo…” Alexis pauses—probably for a sip of the iced tea she always seems to be drinking. “Okay, so, this thing’s running deep?”
“Not yet, thank goodness. I can’t let it get to that. He started talking about where his head was, relationship-wise, last night. Almost like he was considering if there was potential for us.”
“Wait—for you and him ? You’re talking post-Hawaii? Long-distance? Honey! He knows a catch when he sees one.”
“No! No . I can’t be Jack Morgan’s catch.”
“Why not?”
“Because! So many reasons. For one thing, you know I’ve been in a dry spell with dating. I am just barely starting to get my feet back on the ground after… Hrm .” I swallow down the lump in my throat.
It is too early in the day to talk about the Derek Incident.
My defenses—those walls I put up around myself just to make it through the day— aren’t entirely awake yet.
I feel the memory increasing my anxiety.
I can remember when he told me it was over. It was Valentine's Day, of all days. We were out to dinner, sitting across from each other at a table with a white linen cloth. A crystal vase with a single rose divided the table in two. I could feel something was wrong but couldn’t tell what it was.
Then, it came out just after the waitress cleared away our salad plates. Derek cleared his throat and smoothed his hands over the linen. “Hazel, we have to talk. I haven’t been completely honest with you…”
As he went on, tears pooled in my eyelids and then funneled down my cheeks.
It wasn’t that I cared about Derek, per se. I didn’t love him—I know that for sure now, looking back. It was his deceptive actions that hurt.
I could barely see; I was so bleary-eyed when I tried to leave the restaurant. I knocked into a chair and banged my shin. It was snowing out, and the roads were covered in a blanket of white.
Alexis picked me up because all of Windsor’s cabs were booked up, and I couldn’t stand the thought of getting a ride with the man who’d just made such a fool out of me.
I promised myself I’d never let that happen again.
And, so far, it hasn’t.
I’m pretty sure steering clear of all men was over the top, but that’s what I did. The walls I put up every day might as well be made of steel because they have protected me.
But that’s a problem with walls. They keep out the bad and the good.
Maybe it’s time to let some good into my life…
That’s a scary thought.
I need my walls.
I never want to feel like I did that Valentine’s Day ever again.
“Well, since, you know, whatever,” I grumble, unwilling to mention his name. “Getting hurt. I will get back to dating. I know I’ll heal, get some confidence up, and trust myself again, eventually. But that doesn’t need to happen here , in Hawaii, with a guy I work with.”
“So—you kissed him again, didn’t you? Is that what’s going on?” She sounds positively giddy at the prospect.
But this isn’t summer camp, and Jack is not the cute boy from Cabin Four.
I am an adult .
Yes, I need to get my mojo back, but it will not be with a man I work with.
“No, we didn’t kiss again. Thank goodness.”
“Aw, really…? Now I’m even more worried about you. You didn’t watch the sunrise over the ocean or take advantage of being stuck at a resort with a guy who is totally into you. Not just any guy, but a great guy.”
I tuck my knee up and sip more coffee.
I can’t even argue with my friend on that point. Jack is great.
He’s optimistic about life. He makes promises to people because he believes he can follow through. He’s hopeful, vibrant, and lively.
Alexis is talking in my ear, and I suddenly realize I’ve lost track of what she’s saying. I tune back in.
“... and sure, maybe we don’t know for sure, but there is that philosophy of ‘you only live once,’ so why not?”
Ah, yes. Her YOLO speech.
She’s given it before.
“Why not? Lots of reasons,” I argue. “We’re only hanging out because, like you said, we’re stuck at this resort together. In a few days, he’ll go back to his life, and I’ll go back to mine. And we’ll have to resume working together. Also, I think—” I pause to suck in some much-needed caffeine.
Because, at this point, my head is going cloudy with overwhelm.
Darn you, sleepless night.
“I think… I’m pretty sure I’m about to get promoted when we get back. That means I’ll be his manager.” I sip again.
I’m hoping that saying it aloud will jolt me.
I could use a reality check.
“We are on super thin ice,” I add, “and I’m doing my best not to break it. So, YOLO has no place in what’s going on.”
“No way. YOLO trumps everything, Hazel. You are single . This is love we’re talking about. You will one day look back on this week and wish you tossed caution to the wind and enjoyed yourself. We’re traveling around the sun on this crazy spinning planet and owe it to ourselves to enjoy life's journey, right?”
Right now, talking to my best friend in the world feels about as impossible as talking to Jack.
“I get that,” I say, “but consequences are real. I don’t want my journey around the sun this year to include unemployment. And there is a high probability of that if I let this thing in Hawaii get out of hand.”
“Yes, yes!” she chirps. I can picture her now, smiling with all that Alexis sunshine she always seems to have. “That is exactly what I’m saying. Let this thing get out of hand.”
I sigh, rolling my eyes. “That is not what I said.”
She laughs. “I know I’m taking that phrase out of context. I can see you rolling your eyes at me. Okay, I’m going to let you sit with this. Remember: vacation. Fun. Love you, honey.”
Once I hang up, I cuddle back onto the couch. The pillows are soft, and they swallow me up.
My drink has turned warm instead of hot, making it easier to draw in long sips.
There are so many reasons Alexis is my best friend. Often, when I get stuck in one of these glass-is-half-empty states, she shows me the bright sides.
I know she made good points. I know what is happening to me on this island is a gift. On some level, I want to reach out for the gift with both hands, with a few of those bubbly ‘yes, yes!’ statements that Alexis is so good at
I want to say ‘yes’ to what is happening.
But I also want to be practical.
I’ve worked for this company for six years. Before this, I always had to pinch pennies. Now, I’m finally earning a wonderful income—one I’m proud of.
I worked hard to get to where I am.
I can’t throw it all away because I’m getting swept up in…
In what?
I try to sip more coffee out of my cup, but it’s all gone.
I set the mug aside and rest back against the soft cushions. I don’t even know what this is with Jack. A fling? A romance?
We only kissed that one time. But last night, it was like every move each of us made came from some undercurrent of desire. Every minute with him contained that tension, that snappy, sparking zip of energy that bounced between us. The long looks, the intimate conversation…
When he stretched out on that lounge chair beside me, my fantasies bubbled up. It was just like when we lay side by side on the beach towel.
I thought: what if?
What if one day, we laid around like this because we were getting ready for bed or just waking up?
My bed back home has been so very empty.
My phone beeps.
Thank goodness. I push that longing feeling away and swipe it off the coffee table.
My mother has sent a long text filled with gratitude for the last round of pictures. ‘ Oh, Hazel, honey, I am so pleased for you! You made my day again with these pictures. He looks like such a wonderful man. You both look so happy. I can’t wait to meet him one day. I love you, sweetheart.’
I press my lips together.
She’s happy for me… for all the wrong reasons.
I’m not here on this island relishing time away with my long-distance boyfriend; the two of us finally united for one glorious week.
Matt Monroe doesn’t exist.
The very troublesome Jack Morgan does.
I try to text her back. I compose a message, delete it, try again, and delete it again. Finally, I give up. With a groan of disgust, I let the phone fall onto the pillows.
I’ll text her later.
Right now, emailing the CEO of Buzzy Digital Marketing is more important. He attached a file to the message, so I’ll take a closer look at that, too. I’m pretty sure it’s a description of the manager role within the company, but I didn’t have a chance to open it last night. I pull my computer bag to me.
No!
Like mine, the sleek laptop tucked inside the bag is silver but way too wide. This isn’t my laptop.
I flop the bag onto its side and take a closer look. It’s black, like mine, and has the same type of strap and similar pockets along the front, but the zipper tabs are neon green. This bag is not mine.
It’s obviously Jack’s.
We were both carrying our computer bags around last night.
At some point, I probably picked up his, and he picked up mine.
And now it’s 6:45 a.m. If I don’t email the CEO back soon, he might call it quits for the evening without hearing back from me.
I hate the thought of leaving him hanging. What if he assumes I’m not interested? In our company, responsiveness is valued. Communication lags are a big no-no.
I have to open the attachment on my laptop, which means I have to get it from Jack. He must still have it.
It’s still so early. Is he up yet?
My stomach curls with nerves at the thought of seeing him this early in the morning. The sun has barely peeked up over the horizon line.
What if I wake him by knocking, and he answers the door all sleepy-eyed, with bed-head hair? What if his voice is adorably croaky, and he’s got bare feet or a bare chest?
What will I do if I knock on his bungalow door, and he answers, and I get a whiff of his terrible, awful, amazingly wonderful pheromones?
Ack .
I’m being stupid, thinking like a woman who spent too long pondering her empty bed back in New Hampshire.
Right now, I have to think like a Sales Manager.
My bed has nothing to do with this.
I yank my hair back off my face and twist it into a tight bun. Back in the bedroom, I pull on fresh clothes. In the bathroom, I splash cool water on my face and ignore my makeup bag.
I walk out the door into brisk, very early morning island air. The sun hasn’t yet burned off the fine haze of moisture. The cool mist rests on my cheeks.
It’s like walking through a cloud. I pass through lush foliage and palm fronds to his door.
This must be his bungalow. He mentioned yesterday that he and his brother’s family are staying in Yellow Coral, and this is the only yellow one around.
The bungalow looks quiet. At least, I can’t see any movement inside.
There’s a pair of leather sandals—Jack’s, I’m pretty sure— kicked haphazardly off to the side of the door.
I hesitate there, with my fist raised to knock. It’s not even seven o’clock yet. I’m for sure going to wake Jack up, and probably his brother, sister-in-law, and those two sweet girls I’ve seen around, too.
I can’t wake them all up because I selfishly need my laptop… Can I?
It was probably my fault for mixing up the bags, anyway.
I shouldn’t be here.
I’ll text him about the mix-up, and we can make the swap later.
I’m about to turn, but the sight of the door stops me. It’s not closed all the way. An inch gap separates the dark wood from the turquoise-painted frame.
I can see into Jack’s bungalow…
I poke my face up to the gap and am relieved when I spot the black strap of my computer bag near a white couch.
There it is.
Right there.
I could make the swap without waking anyone up…
Carefully, I push the door open and step inside.