Chapter 7 Shifting Winds
Shifting Winds
Lena let herself into the bungalow without knocking, as she always had.
The place already felt wrong. Too quiet.
Too neat. Emma’s flamingo coffee mug was missing from the counter, and the throw pillows (normally arranged in a way Lena referred to as “abstract chaos”) marched along the back of the sofa, as if preparing to be judged.
She padded down the hallway to the bedroom, where a suitcase sat open on the bed, half-packed with colorful blouses and rolled-up pencil skirts. Emma stood beside it, holding a bright swimsuit in one hand and a travel steamer in the other, clearly debating which deserved precious suitcase space.
“Are you trying to make me cry before dinner?” Lena asked, arms folded, leaning in the doorway.
Emma spun around with a grin. “If I’m going to abandon you, I might as well look fabulous doing it. Which should I pack? The steamer or the suit?”
Lena stepped further into the room, giving the suitcase a mournful glance. “Both. That bathing suit doesn’t take up much space. You’re really going, huh?”
“I am.” Emma’s voice softened, and she dropped both into the suitcase. “Task Force Hiring Manager. World traveler by corporate jet. Recruiter of all the best people in exotic places. It’s a thing now.”
“I hate it.” Lena sulked.
“I know.” Emma smiled.
Lena sank onto the edge of the bed, brushing her hand over a folded sundress, smoothing non-existent wrinkles. “It’s going to be strange. Being here without you. I mean, we shared shampoo and emotional breakdowns. That’s practically marriage.”
Emma let out a laugh and tossed a pair of sandals into the suitcase. “You’ll be fine. You’re the Interim Front Office Queen now. The staff already listens to you more than Pablo.”
“Pablo is too busy trying to make ‘resort chic’ a leadership style.” Lena sighed. “I’m not sure being in charge makes me feel any less like I’m faking it.”
Emma crouched in front of her, resting her hands on Lena’s knees.
“Listen to me. You’re not faking anything.
You kept this place running through a blackout, an elevator breakdown, and a resort full of guests acting like the End of Days was upon us.
That takes guts, brains, and a borderline supernatural tolerance for entitled people.
Oh, and that was only the past week.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“I’m mostly fueled by espresso and spite,” Lena murmured, but a smile tugged at her mouth.
“And you look damn good doing it.” Emma dropped a zippered pouch into her carry-on. “This job is going to stretch you in ways you don’t see coming. But I have no doubt—you’ll rise to every single one of them.”
Lena swallowed, her voice quieter now as guilt flooded her veins. “I kind of thought you’d always be here. I know that’s selfish. I, more than anyone, know how much you deserve this promotion.”
“Not selfish. Sweet,” Emma said. “But hey—I’ll be back. This will stay my home base when I’m not traveling. And I’ll answer your calls from wherever I am.”
Lena met her eyes. “Even if I call in the middle of the night from the front desk, whispering that the espresso machine exploded and I’m fleeing into the jungle?”
“Especially then.”
They hugged—tight, lingering, and wordless. Tears pressed against her lids, but she refused to let them fall.
They pulled apart, and Emma smirked at her, arching an eyebrow. “You know, you’ve got other people who’ve got your back now.”
Lena raised a brow. “Walter?”
Emma flashed a wicked grin. “I was thinking of a certain tall, broody tech genius who looks at you like he’d rewrite the code of the universe if you asked.”
“Oh, my god.” Lena groaned and grabbed a pillow, whacking Emma in the shoulder. “You are not spending your last three hours on this island linking me with my boss.”
“Temporary boss,” Emma corrected, eyes sparkling, “and potential future something if you stop being so stubborn.”
Lena gave her a look, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Compliment accepted.”
Emma zipped her suitcase and rolled it off the bed. Lena followed her to the door. She paused at the threshold, one hand resting against the frame, her turquoise eyes unusually shiny.
“Hey, Em?”
“Yeah?”
Lena pointed to the kitchen. “Don’t forget your pink flamingo mug.”
Emma blinked, then burst into laughter. “You keep it.”
“No way. It tastes like betrayal now.”
“Fine. I’ll get you a new one. Something more professional. With a lid and a sippy straw.”
Lena smirked. “Good luck finding a mug that can keep up with me.”
Emma grinned. “You already have everything you need, L.”
Then, she was gone.