How to Honeymoon Alone

“I’m not sure it does, since the woman you’d be denying happiness is, you know, fictional.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, you’re right.”

She reaches for another pillow to prop up behind her back, grunting as she does so. “Can we go through what happened one more time?”

“Do we have to?”

She points at her belly. “I could pop any second, my feet hurt, and I’m swollen absolutely everywhere.”

“Okay, all right,” I say with a grin. “We can do whatever you want.”

“That’s right,” she says. “So, the conversation you overheard. Are you sure you heard what you think you did?”

I brace my head in my hands. “Yes, of course, I am. He mentioned reading the contract during his trip. She asked me to, that’s what he said. It was pretty clear who he was talking about.”

It’s easier to discuss now than it had been the first time, just a few days after I returned to Pinecrest and met a bubbly Becky who wanted to hear all about my holiday romance.

It’s still painful, but back then, it hurt on a physical level. A blade slicing clean through the roots of a new hope that had just started to grow.

Becky groans. “I hate that you can’t just call him and ask. What the heck were you thinking, either of you, not exchanging numbers?”

I sigh again. “I don’t know. I thought it was kind of romantic, at the time. We’d just be a vacation fling and a beautiful memory. And I was going to give him my number when I doubled back from the airport-that’s why I overheard his conversation in the first place!”

“Men,” she says and shakes her head.

I pick at the blanket. “The worst part is, I am angry at him, and I know that’s not fair because wasn’t I using him as a rebound, too? Trying to get over Caleb, to be intimate with someone new, to pass the days?” My voice is rising, and I force myself to take a deep breath. “So why am I so furious that he wanted the exact same thing?”

Becky smiles. “Because somewhere between all the snorkeling and rum drinking and sex-having, you caught feelings.”

“Ugh.”

“It’s true. We both know it.”

“I know,” I say and look down at my lap. My jeans are frayed at the hem, and there’s a speck of glitter there from my kindergarten class earlier today. “I didn’t want to.”

“I know, Eden.”

“What really gets me is that now I know how good it can be,” I say, pointing a finger at her like it’s her fault. “I know how incredible the sex with a near-stranger can be, but the odds of that happening again are zero. Z. E. R. O.”

She nods, frowning. “Yeah, unfortunately, that’s not super common.”

“So I’ll have to start dating,” I say and throw my hands up like I’ve been consigned to the worst fate imaginable. “And every date I’m going to compare to Phillip.”

She taps her nails against the porcelain of her mug. “Have you googled him?”

“Googled?”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

“Okay, yeah, I have.”

She shines up. “And?”

“I found his law firm. A picture of a much younger him from an article in his college’s newspaper.”

“Impressive.”

“And that’s pretty much it. He’s not on social media.”

“No contact info?”

I sigh. “No. And even if I found any, or tried to contact his law firm, what good would it do? You know what he said to his sister. He was relieved that our fling was over.”

The hurt burns in my chest. Anger, too. Both at him… and at myself. For believing again. So stupid.

“You could just tell him off about that,” Becky suggests. “Send a letter through his law firm and tell him off for being a pig.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You just want to watch the world burn.”

She nods, not denying it. “Of course, I do. I’m in pain, and I want everyone else to be.”

“I’m still waiting for his postcard to arrive.”

Her eyebrows fly high. “Oh my God. I forgot to check in on the postcard watch today. So, it hasn’t arrived.”

“It has not,” I say. Every day after work, I text Becky to let her know that the postcard hasn’t arrived. When I forget, she texts to ask. “But at this point, I’m not holding my breath.”

“You should. International mail can be super slow and weird.”

“Yeah, but what would it even say? Hope you have a nice life?” I shake my head. “Look, I think I’m better off just consigning it to the past. I caught feelings. It happened, but I won’t let it happen again. Not for a while. After… after Caleb and Cindy, and now after Phillip, it’s enough.”

She nods. “Sensible. So, the businessman character is definitely out?”

“Definitely,” I say. “I think the main character might have a surfer love interest instead, or maybe the hotel owner, or the manager? That could be hot.”Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Becky makes a humming sound as she listens, but I know she’s secretly rooting for the brooding businessman. She’s made that clear before.

And so was I, once. But I can’t anymore.

I reach for my own cup of tea. “Anyway,” I say. “What day are you planning on finally having this baby?”

Becky leans her head back against a pillow and groans. “God, I wish I knew! I wake up hoping that it’s today.”

Seeing her experience up close has given me a whole new level of respect for mothers. Pregnancy is no walk in the park, from the early weeks of nausea to the current pain in her pelvis. “She’s probably just so snug in there,” I say. “Never wants to leave.”

Becky looks down at her stomach and runs a hand over it. “Well, her landlord is getting ready to evict her,” she says, but her voice is softer now. “I also can’t wait to meet her. I want her out here with us.”

My heart swells. “Me too.”