Diving Into the Sun

Chapter 1

STEPHANIE

From the top of my head to the red bottom of my Louboutin shoes, I’ve never been this exhausted in my entire life.

“Samantha King, you better answer your phone before mine dies!” I’m so tired that I’ve resorted to talking to myself while I wait for my best friend to pick up her cell.

“This is Sam. I’m not available. You know what to do when you hear the beep.” . . . BEEP.

“Sam, you beautiful baby incubator!” I start speaking as fast as I can.

“I finally got on another plane and made it to my next stop, but you won’t believe it—I have another canceled flight.

It’s the weather this time. They think it’s going to be”—a long, deep yawn escapes—“several hours before any flights will be allowed in the air.” My body is going to give up at any moment.

“Anyway, I need to talk quickly because I only have one percent left, and I lost my charger. I’m probably going to be landing in the middle of the night, and I don’t want you or Deke to have to come get me.

I’m gonna call Daren at the airport and see if he will lend me his car for the night.

If you leave a key in the usual place, I can let myself into the duplex once I—” My phone dies.

What the three-legged table!

I heave out an exhausted, bone-weary sigh.

I should be more excited about this trip—but right now, I’m too tired.

I’m heading to a gorgeous Caribbean island to spend time with my beautiful bestie, Sam.

I’ll have my own half of their beachfront duplex, and I’ll get to help when Sam has her perfect little baby in about a month.

But at this moment, I wouldn’t care if I were staying in a tent on a pile of rocks—as long as there was a bed waiting inside.

I finally arrive at three in the morning, ten hours later than originally expected. Luckily Sam had alerted Daren that I would be coming in.

“I’ll take you over myself. It’s only twenty minutes.

” Daren is the sweetest seventeen-year-old kid, and he seems to be working at the airport every time I come in.

I’m overjoyed at his offer, as driving this tired would be the equivalent of driving incredibly drunk.

I can’t focus on a single word he says during the drive.

I barely have the energy to wave goodbye, fumble through the door, slide my shoes off, and fall into bed. I don’t even change my clothes or brush my teeth.

If I have my way, I will sleep for the next three weeks.