Thea
There may be one other reason why I forgot where I was staying.
It’s a really good one.
I was wasted.
In my defense, who gets dumped right before going on a trip where they assumed they’d be getting engaged and doesn’t lose control?
Apparently after abstaining from alcohol for, well, my entire life, one drink was all I needed to do me in.
I didn’t even like the green fruity thing…
or maybe I did, because I obviously didn’t stop at one.
I’m lucky I made it to my hotel at all. One moment I was on a plane, the next I was facedown on my bed in the hotel room.
I didn’t wake until noon, at which point I stumbled into the bathroom, showered in water that smelled like regurgitated ocean creature vomit, and threw on some clothes over my still damp body.
I walked right out of my hotel room and wandered around this exciting new land, keeping my mind busy. It was going well, too.
Until my life was stolen from me.
Not my whole life. Just sixty-five percent of it. Why on earth did I think I could hop on a plane and visit a foreign country all by myself? I don’t do impulsive things. I measure every action, and I ensure every choice before I make a decision.
I always choose wrong. Case in point: Scott Evans.
The man actually laughed when I took the boarding passes the night he broke up with me. He told me I’d never even make it to the airport.
In my one attempt at being impulsive, I manage to screw everything up. It makes me hate him even more—for being right about me. Ever since the accident, I can’t escape the fear that comes with each life-changing decision.
“Do you remember anything about the hotel besides the bird name?” the man I’ve named Mark asks.
I try not to look at him too long. People don’t like when I dissect them based on their persona, but he’s like the book I can’t put down after midnight.
Just one more chapter. He’s hulky and frightening—at least that’s what he tries to convey—but he’s naturally protective.
He pulled me out of harm’s way before I could even register the potential danger, placing himself between me and the suspicious characters back at the drugstore.
There’s also a mysteriousness that follows him like a shadow.
He’s either trying to hide his sincerity, or he’s up to no good.
With no accent and a clear disdain for this city, he’s obviously not a local.
There’s a reason he’s here, and I desperately want to know what it is.
But now is not the time. I need to remember my hotel.
“It was pink,” I say, dredging up my morning-after memories. I don’t even remember my room number.
“There were beds, and um…” I chew on my bottom lip. How have I fallen so far in such a short time?
Mysterious Mark raises a brow, waiting for more.
A memory flickers to life, and I cling to it.
“There were pink string lights around two big palm trees out front, and a cafe across the street where I grabbed breakfast. And oh! There was a rude parrot outside the cafe that told me my dress was trashy.” I clamp my lips shut.
Maybe not quite the zinger I intended it to be.
Mark doesn’t seem all that impressed with my recollection, but it’s enough to remove his judgy gaze from me. Not that I mind him looking. The man is ridiculously gorgeous. I’d be lying if I said that his attention did not flatter me.
He steps in front of me, and his broad shoulders become my view—I mean block my view.
“At least you remember your name,” he says, and I swear, his shoulders are shaking.
I speed up. “Are you laughing at me?”
“I’m laughing with you.” A muscle twitches in his cheek, the only hint of his amusement. If it wasn’t so attractive, I’d strangle him… and if his neck wasn’t the size of a football.
“I’m not laughing.”
He lifts a shoulder. “You will. When you’re home.”
I doubt it. First, I have to make it home. “I’m not sure I’ll ever laugh again.”
His sigh is that of an annoyed parent. “Was he worth it?”
I blink. “What?”
“This man who broke your heart. Was he really worth it?”
I thought so. We dated for two years. He knew my mom and my dad before the accident.
I thought we were perfect. I’ll admit, over time I started to see the cracks and holes in our relationship.
We were compatible, but not passionate. We were biding our time together, comfortable, but not happy.
After losing my mom and the dad I once knew, I couldn’t fathom losing anyone else.
So I clung to him as if he were the only option for me.
But this man in front of me—this stranger—is right.
Scott isn’t worth my heartbreak. To be honest, my heart didn’t break when he left me.
My pride did… and my assurance in the life I thought we were building.
I don’t miss him; I miss that. I am in charge of my own destiny, which means I need to pull myself together.
“No,” I say, the wind gone from my sails.
“I can’t even find the energy to be upset about our breakup, because it’s a relief to not be here with him.
” If Scott were here, he would have forced me to try deep-sea fishing even though I hate the smell of fish and faint at the sight of blood and guts.
He would have chosen all our activities, and I would have gone along with it because it was easier than trying to analyze why I couldn’t stand up for myself with him.
“Good.” Mark’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Now get over it.” He steps around me and continues down the street.
I chase after him. “Just like that, huh?”
“Yep. There are no rules. The longer you let him hold on to you, the worse it will be.”
There are no rules. I control my fate. That thought gives me a sense of assurance I hadn’t realized I needed so desperately. The confidence to choose myself for once.
We walk in silence for approximately thirty seconds. “You know, for a grumpy stranger, you’re kind of wise.”
“I think I’ve got a plaque with those exact words on my mantel.”
I laugh, and it feels good to laugh instead of cry. No more will I cry.
The silence this time is comfortable, and I lean into it. My world has been spinning in circles for the last couple of days, but finally it has stopped. This man is going to help me get home, then I will go back to my regular, comfortable life.