So Not My Romantic Getaway (My Not So Fairytale)

Chapter 1Hazel

Chapter 1

Hazel

I am here for a vacation.

A much-needed vacation.

I know I should have ignored the email from my manager that came in just as the plane touched down in Honolulu, Hawaii, an hour ago.

But—typical me—I opened it.

I read it.

Then, while the pearl-white shuttle bus whisked me to the Hanu Bay Resort, I read it a couple more times, and the worrying set in—h ard .

Right now, I’m totally stressed. The kind of stress that belongs at my work-from-home station in New Hampshire.

Not here, in this pristine setting.

A group of pink flamingos stares at me as I pin my phone between my ear and shoulder and accept my rolling suitcase from the shuttle driver. I pass him a ten and then drag in a breath of salty ocean air.

“I can’t believe she has the nerve to ask this of me,” I moan into the phone. “I already checked my dashboard, and she marked it ‘urgent’ with one of those awful red flags. She wants this taken care of by the end of the day.”

The whir of the Stairmaster Alexis is dutifully slogging up purrs in my ear. I can picture her view: the gray Windsor Rec Center parking lot, sprinkled with some form of nightmarish wintry mix.

“Oh, come on, we knew she wouldn’t let you out of her talons for a whole week. This was bound to happen. Here’s what you do: You turn off your phone. You stop checking email. You go dark, and take a week for yourself, and ignore?—”

“Are you kidding me? I can’t go dark. Devina would freak out. Not to mention my mother. You know she texts me a million and one times a day.”

“Hazel, girl, listen to me and listen good. You. Are. On. Vacation. This is self-care time. Self . Hear that word?”

“I know, but…”

A salty breeze kisses my face, and I catch my first glimpse of the aquamarine ocean out behind the spread of the resort.

The waves glitter like they’ve been sprinkled with magical fairy dust. The sand is a pillow of fine white crystal and quartz. I want to sink into a fantasy of how soft and warm it will feel on my bare feet. But now, all I can think about is the work Devina sneakily assigned me.

“I think I have to take care of this one thing,” I murmur with a wince. “I just hope it doesn’t take too long. It’s for those Shopping Shark clients I told you about the other day.”

It feels so surreal that days ago, I was at the Rec Center with Alexis, getting in a workout while looking out on a flurry of snow and the dreary February-in-New-Hampshire landscape.

And now I’m on an island.

An actual, honest-to-goodness island surrounded by the Pacific Ocean. I’m drenched in sunlight that feels absolutely tropical.

“The Shopper Shark clients are super nit-picky, right?” she asks.

“Over the top. This time, they’re all up in arms about the email marketing sequence we made for them. This guy Chad is head of marketing for them, and I guess he’s saying that the sequence is below average, hardly generating any revenue.”

“So, why’s that your problem? You didn’t write the darn thing.”

“Yeah, but I’m a Sales Lead. Everything’s my problem. Devina wants me to get together with Jack Morgan to figure out how to make it better. Like he’ll have a clue. Apparently, he’s here too. He got the same reward trip that I did. But there is no way I’m wasting my time having an actual meeting with him. Fixing the issue will be way faster if I just do it on my own.”

“Jack Morgan… Jack Morgan… Why is that ringing a bell? You’ve talked about him before, right?”

“He’s the one who’s always screwing up. He thinks he can do his job while barely knowing anything about the products and services we’re selling. Just a bunch of charisma and big promises. There is no way I’m bringing him into this.”

“You shouldn’t have to be even thinking about this. You should be thinking nothing . Your brain should turn to a pretty puddle of jelly this week, so you come home refreshed. You’re in freaking Hawaii! What is it like? Tell me it’s gorgeous. No—don’t tell me. I’m already dying of envy.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

She makes a sound that’s a combination of squeal and groan. “I wish I was there.”

“I wish you were, too. This would be more fun with you. We could sit out by the pool and sip fruity drinks together.”

“Promise me you won’t spend all week on your laptop.”

“I—uh—promise.” Even as I say it, I have to swallow down anxiety. What if I do spend all week on my laptop? I’m certainly not off to a good start. I already opened it once during the shuttle ride.

I lift my chin and squint into the sunlight. A streak of dark green water shimmers between palm and coconut trees. That must be the saltwater lagoon I drooled over when I checked the resort website. A dolphin jumps out of the water, and delight stirs in me, edging out some stress.

This work thing isn’t that bad. I’ll get through it and then: me time.

Alexis is right. I need to take advantage of this week away. I could really use a reset. My life has gotten into a real rut lately. The long hours at my computer are catching up to me, and Devina seems intent on making my life miserable.

“Bet your mom is missing you,” Alexis offers. “Has she texted you already to tell you to wear sunblock and take your vitamins?”

“Six texts thus far.”

“Six is too many.”

“You know she has boundary issues. It doesn’t help that a few weeks ago, I made up an imaginary boyfriend, so she’d stop harping on me about my single status. She kept saying how Hawaii was such a romantic destination, and it was such a pity I’d be here on my own. I got so tired of it.”

Alexis barks out a sharp laugh. “Wait, back up. You what ?”

“Don’t make me confess again, please. I know it’s pathetic, but I had to, Lex. She was killing me with her comments about how the sunsets would be wasted if I wasn’t here with a guy. Her efforts at setting me up ramped up significantly. I think she suggested every single guy in Windsor between twenty-five and forty. Do you know she tried to set me up with the butcher at Speedy Grocers? The one who always winks at women and calls them ‘Sugar Boots?’”

“Ew! Steve? He’s a total sleaze!”

“I know. Believe me, this was my best option.”

She laughs again. “You are something else. You know your relationship with your mom is totally unhealthy, right? Normal women don’t make up fictitious boyfriends to please their mothers.”

“When have I ever claimed normalcy? Never. I know my life is weird.”

“At least you own it. Okay, name? Age? Occupation?”

“Matt Monroe. I told her he was thirty-five and owned a shoe store. We met a few months ago when I traveled to Rhode Island, and we’ve been seeing each other long-distance since. He’s thrilled I invited him along on this romantic island getaway.”

“You are absolutely ridiculous.”

“I know.”

“Well, have fun with that . You have quite the week ahead. You’ll kick off the good times by catering to your witchy manager and then help Mr. Matt Monroe figure out which sandals he should wear to dinner. I bet he packed a bunch since he owns that shoe store and all.”

“Oh, he’s an over-packer. I told him, ‘Honey, you don’t need multiple pairs of leather thong flip-flops for one week away.’ But he brought the black, the brown, and the tan ones.”

“That Matt…” She sighs in that way that lets me know she’s going into advice-giver mode. “All kidding aside, Hazel, you need to stop bending over backward for your mom. When are you going to tell her you’re a grown adult? You’ve got to live your life, and her constant meddling isn’t healthy. She treats you like you’re still her baby. You’re thirty . You could have babies of your own.”

I could .

But I don’t.

“I’m working on it,” I say as I enter the resort lobby. “Not the baby-making. I mean, the mom issues.”

The ceilings in the lobby are high. A flash of magenta flits over my head.

Oh my gosh… There are parrots in the rafters here. And a few majestic peacocks, tails fanned out, parading around the seating area.

“I mean, I was working on it,” I grumble. Establishing some boundaries between me and my mother was a major thing that my therapist, Chester, and I were wading through before he ditched me.

Technically, he had a valid reason for breaking off our patient-therapist relationship.

He moved to Canada and said we had to stop our Zoom sessions because he was no longer in my provider network.

Still, it hurt.

And the fact that I feel abandoned by my therapist is probably fodder for my next therapist when I get around to hiring one.

Which I haven’t yet.

A fresh-faced woman behind the front desk offers me a smile.

“I should go,” I tell Alexis. “I have to check in.”

“Okay. Enjoy. Tell Matt I say hello.”

As I hang up, I can’t help but take a quick peek at my inbox. Devina’s sent a new email reminding me to get back to her ASAP.

I want to remind her that I am currently on the vacation I earned for being a star employee, but I stuff that desire down. Instead, I type up a quick message:

“ Thanks so much for the reminder, Devina. I’m happy to handle the issue on my own; no need to involve Mr. Morgan, I am sure he’s eager to enjoy his time off.”

I copy Jack on the message, so he’ll know he’s off the hook.

Once I hit send, I lift my eyes.

I’m trying to peek at the desk again to see if the friendly agent is still available. But instead, my eyes collide with a set of green irises… attached to a gorgeous body.

I mean, drop-dead-gorgeous. I’m looking at a tall, athletic, sandy-haired hunk of a man.

He’s in his thirties, speaking to another guy who resembles him. Maybe his brother? As our eyes connect, his words drop off.

We just stare at each other.

One second passes.

Two.

And this isn’t stopping.

I should look away, but I can’t. It feels impossible to look away because, honestly, his inquisitive gaze makes me feel connected to him. Like we’re two singles mingling at a bar, about to make our way to one another and trade cheesy pickup lines.

He’s looking at me like he’s interested in me.

And I’m looking right back. Another second ticks past. This isn’t a rushed one-two-three count, either. These are real seconds, ‘Mississippies’ tucked in between the numbers and all.

His mouth hitches up ever so slightly at one corner. He nods at me, the gesture attached to his subtle smile.

What’s he doing?

Greeting me, apparently, even though we don’t know each other.

Does he know I just drooled over his tall frame and formed a mental picture of what he’ll look like swimming in the pool?

Good heavens, I hope he doesn’t suspect my inner musings.

I also hope I’ll see him in the pool.

His torso must be a work of art, judging by those broad shoulders and the way his Hawaiian shirt hangs over his hunky pecks and flat abs. The bright orange tones of the shirt make me feel so drab in my black tank top and shorts.

I am not the type to have vacation flings. But if I was, this would be the kind of guy I’d go for.

He looks capable of sweeping a woman off her feet. His sandy blond hair is just shaggy enough to be tousled by the sea breeze. His tan complements those striking green eyes that, yes, I’m still hooked on.

He’s even in brown leather thong sandals, just like I imagined fictional Matt would wear. Oh, the irony.

Before I can figure out if I’m going to smile back, he’s moved on.

He says something to the similar-looking guy beside him, who might be his brother. Then he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

The brotherly guy laughs as though Mr. Hunk is hilariously funny. A woman walks up to them and pecks the brotherly one on the cheek. This must be the wife. She’s petite and energetic, with springy, ebony ringlets that frame her round face. She’s trailed by two school-aged girls with the same bounce in their steps and ringlets.

Mr. Hunk peers down at his phone. His brows tuck together. I imagine he’s in some intense text conversation with a wife or girlfriend of his own.

I mean, of course, he’s taken.

It seems like all the good ones are. At least, that’s how it feels back home, in Windsor. The butcher at Speedy Market is single and rearing to date, but he doesn’t qualify as a ‘good one.’ Unless my mother’s the one passing judgment, and she only likes him because he slices her Sara Lee honey-roasted turkey breast as thin as paper.

Instead of taking another peek at the hot stranger, I head for the desk. I’ve embarrassed myself enough by locking eyes with him, and I’d rather not risk more.

The fresh-faced attendant listens patiently as I give my name, and she pulls up my reservation within seconds. She wields two hotel keys. With a wave of guilt, I realize why.

I was with my mother when I gave the booking details.

They think I’m here with Matt.

“You’ll find the Pink Coral bungalow right out that door; just follow the winding path to the right. Shall I give you both key cards now, or keep one at the desk for Matthew so he can get in when he arrives?”

“Oh, he’s… he’s already walking around, checking things out. He’s probably settled in by the pool by now. I’ll give him his card.”

Pathetic.

I feel pathetic as I tuck both cards into my shoulder bag and drag my suitcase across the lobby.

I think I see Mr. Hunk over by a cluster of white chairs, but I don’t dare look his way.

Maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of him around the resort this week, but I doubt we’ll ever lock eyes like that again. He’ll probably be too busy paddling a sea kayak with some woman to give me the time of day.

At least I have Matt, I think sadly as I step out into the sunlight.