by Diana Kane
“Sara, please come out and talk to me.” I can hear the pain in Katrina’s voice and fight the urge to give into her, ignoring her plea. “Sara, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care, please open the door.” After ten minutes of her pleading, I realize she isn’t going to leave. I fling open the door and block her entrance. She looks at me but doesn’t say a word. Without warning, she takes my face in her hands and kisses me. I want to pull away but feel my body melting into it. The images of Katrina’s face at Velvet flash through my mind, and are enough for me to break it off and back away from her.
“Please just leave. I’m begging you to please just leave now. I can’t watch you run away from me again, so please, if you care at all, just go.” I curse the hot tears as they free themselves and roll down my face. Katrina opens her mouth to say something but changes her mind. I watch her walk down the hallway and hear the front door as she closes it behind herself. I curl up in my bed and cry, wondering how I can put all of it away again, the stress, confusion, exhaustion and now these newly acknowledged feelings. The sound of my phone chirping catches my attention. I retrieve it from the nightstand and check it to find a message from Katrina. I wouldn’t have run tonight; just so you know. I type out a quick response: Not tonight, but you would have tomorrow, and that would have been worse. My hope that the conversation is at an end is fruitless though as my phone chimes a few seconds later. We don’t know that.
I can’t take anymore. I leave my bedroom and locate my laptop in the den. I open up the web browser and check the going rate on last-minute flight and resort deals. I need to get out of here, now. I find a cheap flight and resort deal for a two-week trip to Punta Cana. Good enough. I check the flights and find that I can leave on a red-eye in the morning. I check my calendar and discover that I don’t have any cases in the next two weeks that can’t be delayed. I send a message to Abby claiming a family emergency. I ask her to reschedule my OR cases for when I return, booking them in a manner that will allow us to catch up as quickly as possible. I also ask her to reschedule my new office consults, including having me stay late on office days. I finally ask her to take care of my rechecks for me by seeing them in the office when we would normally be in the OR. I apologize to her for the chaos that it will cause, but promise her a nice bonus when I return. That handled, I book the package and start packing. I don’t need much to sit on the beach for two weeks and try to forget about my problems here. My phone chimes again and I check to see a text from Abby: I know you don’t have any family to have an emergency to run off to. If you need to get out of here, do it and don’t feel guilty. I’ll take care of things while you’re away. Yes, Abby will be getting a big bonus indeed. I send Abby another message thanking her and giving her the contact information for the resort if there’s an emergency. I tell her that I won’t be taking my phone, but I’ll check my email from time to time.
I run down a mental checklist making sure I’ve packed everything I’ll need. Satisfied that I have, I grab my laptop and toss it in my carry on before getting ready for bed.
Chapter 14
I drop my bags on the floor and flop down onto the unfamiliar bed. It’s early afternoon, and the cool air inside my suite contrasts sharply with the hot, sticky air outside. The entire trip to the airport I was racked with guilt for abandoning my responsibilities. I nearly didn’t get on the plane, but when I thought about going home, I remembered why I had to leave in the first place. I needed to get away, to have the time and space necessary to figure out how this mess I currently call my life happened. I take a deep breath and open my eyes before sitting up to thoroughly examine my accommodations.
The walls are primarily white but are broken up by a few light gray accent walls. The queen bedding is your typical hotel white with a light gray duvet that features some leaf and vine design done in black. In place of a headboard is a saltwater aquarium set in the wall above the bed. Several fish that I can’t identify swim in and around the coral within its confines. The length of the room is divided by two steps that lead down to a small sitting area. A gray sofa and two matching arm chairs are separated by a small light blue area rug and a small circular table. The bathroom is separated from the bedroom by two thick glass walls, one of which slides to close off the small space from the rest of the room. I look at the thick translucent glass. You can’t see clearly through it, but it would definitely allow the silhouette of anyone using to shower to easily be observed. The private terrace outside of the sitting room’s glass door seems to be composed of plant covered walls. In the center of the open space is a small two-sided structure, the wooden sides meeting at one corner. Privacy drapes dangle from the roof of it, but are pulled up enough to reveal the large cushioned reclining space and pillows within. I take it all in again and realize that it’s wasted on me. This isn’t a place you come to forget about someone, this is a place you come to be with someone. Good thing I don’t plan to spend much time in my room.
I put on my black bikini and a pair of black mesh shorts with an orange tank top. I slip into my flip flops, stuff my key, Kindle and a few other necessities into my small shoulder bag and head out to explore what the all-inclusive resort has to offer. Everything is white and wood and should seem nondescript, but it somehow works together well enough to look classy. I take note of the locations of the open-air restaurants and the fitness center. I may be on vacation, but I have no intention of not working out. I step outside to find perhaps the largest swimming pool I’ve ever seen. I know the water is warm, and it looks inviting as I stand here in the humid heat, but I also know the ocean is just a short distance away. I look around and locate the open-air bar, time for a drink and then the beach. I sit down on one of the vacant stools, the bartender smiling and welcoming me. The greeting sounds rehearsed, but her eyes travel up and down my body a bit more than they politely should. Her voice is soft and her accent sweet like honey. She is quite possibly the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Not wanting to be caught staring, I look around again, wondering where the heavy crowds I expected are.
“Not very busy.” I’m on vacation and attempting small talk, surely these are warning signs of an impending apocalypse.
“Product of the slower season. Would you like something to drink or are you waiting for someone?”
“Just me.” Her smile shifts slightly as I look over the variety of bottles lining the shelves. “What do you recommend?”
“Depends, why are you here?” It’s a bold question. I sit in silence, wondering if I’ve misunderstood her. “Bad breakup or running away?” I can feel the shock register on my face.
“Are you a bartender or a psychic?” She laughs and smiles at me genuinely this time, highlighting her perfect white teeth, a sharp contrast to her deeply bronzed skin and ebony hair.
“Both, I suppose. Or maybe it’s just that this is the first second you haven’t looked lovelorn since you stepped into my bar.” Her words make me think of Katrina, of how even now I’m unsure how I feel for her. I force the unwanted thoughts from my mind and clear my throat. “Running away then?”
“I suppose that works.” She tilts her head slightly as she continues to appraise me.
“I have just the thing.” She turns away from me and I watch her go to work, pouring the various liquids into an ice filled shaker. Her long black hair cascades over the white resort top that hugs her curves in all the right places. She’s tall, with wide shoulders, a slender midsection and larger breasted than I would expect for her build. Her toned arms lead down to long slender fingers that deftly work at creating the fruit garnish for the top of my drink. She places the drink on the bar between us. I pick up the glass and take a tentative sip. It’s initially sweet and fruity but mellows, leaving a slightly sour aftertaste.
“Mmm. That’s really good. What is it?” She smiles again, and I can’t help but stare at her, she’s the definition of breathtaking.
“Thank you. It doesn’t have a name. Just something I tried mixing up one night.” She shrug
s like it isn’t a big deal and wipes down the counter out of habit. “So, tell me what brings you here, what has you running away from this man you clearly care about.”
“Woman,” I blurt out without thinking. She arches her perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me, the only reaction my correction yields. “It’s a long story, I’m sure you don’t want to waste your time listening to it.”
“I have nothing better to do,” she says as she uses her hands to gesture around the sparsely populated bar. I take a drink of the nameless beverage while I debate whether I should share my sad tale with her.
“Sara,” I say as I offer her my hand. She accepts my offered appendage, and I feel her long fingers wrap around my palm as she firmly shakes my hand, the contact with the alluring woman sending pulses through my body.
“Isabella.” A beautiful name for a gorgeous woman, I think as she releases my hand, the odd sensation our brief connection yields lingering after our hands part. She has high cheekbones, slightly pouty lips, and deep brown eyes. “So are you going to share your story with me or should I pretend I have something to do?” I like her boldness and doubt many people ever deny this woman anything.
I launch into my recollection, stopping only when Isabella has to wait on the few patrons that straggle in. Isabella sits a fresh drink on the bar in front of me as I finish. “Do you doubt that she has feelings for you?”
“I don’t know,” I say shaking my head. “I’m not exactly an objective observer here. I just couldn’t watch her run away like that again.”
“What do your friends think?”
“Couldn’t tell you. I’ve avoided talking to them about it. I only told one person that I’m here.” I see surprise register on Isabella’s face as she releases a low whistle.
“When you run away, you really run away.” I give her a pointed look and she holds up her hands. “No judgment. I have no idea what I would do in your situation.”
“Yeah, well I don’t exactly have a plan either, sorta flying by the seat of my pants.” Isabella nods and leans back against the counter behind her. I take another drink of my cocktail and see her eyes assessing me again.
“So you’re a fighter?” I nearly choke on my drink.
“No, I’m a plastic surgeon. Why would you think that?”
“Just the part about sparring and you’re…” She doesn’t finish the sentence with words, but I see her eyes checking out my viewable physique, I know what she’s thinking. She shakes her head quickly; as if she’s trying to clear away some mental fog. I wonder if she’s embarrassed that I saw her looking at me, or if I would even be able to tell if her face reddened through her deeply bronzed skin. I finish my drink and place the empty glass on the counter. “Another?”
“No, I should get going. Thanks for listening.” Isabella nods her head and turns her attention to the remaining patrons at the far end of the bar. As she walks away, I leave a large tip under my empty glass.
*****
A few hours later I’m settling into what I’m hoping to make my new routine. A swim in the ocean followed by air drying under the hot sun on the beach. Once it becomes too hot or sticky, I repeat the process. I lay there under the sun’s receding rays, drying off. The relatively empty beach offering me the peace and quiet my mind will not.
“A little over-generous aren’t you, doctor?” Her voice is like honey, and I have no idea if she’s upset or not. I open my sunglass shielded eyes and look at Isabella. This is the first time I’ve been given a view of her long shapely legs, clad in short black shorts. As my eyes wander up the length of her body, I catch her looking at my bikini-clad form.
“You earned it, listening to me.” Isabella sits on the white sand, less than an arm’s length away. She leans back and props herself up on her elbows, crosses her legs and looks out at the water. I realize at that moment that this is a woman who takes what she wants.
“I did ask you to share, twice, if I recall.” She smiles but doesn’t take her gaze away from the water.
“So what brings you out here?”
“I’m on my way home.”
“This is the route you take home?” I envy her, the view of the water and the salt-scented air are relaxing, despite the heat and humidity.
“Sometimes.” She turns her head and looks at me. “Where are you from?”
“Michigan.” She looks over at me again and raises her sculpted eyebrows. I watch her eyes slowly drift down the length of my body and back up again, leaving a trail of sensations in their wake.
“Aren’t you afraid you’re going to burn?”
“Not really. I had a decent tan when I got here. We do have sunshine this time of year.”
“Yes, I can see the tan lines.” Her gaze fixes on my two-toned thighs and she giggles. I feel my cheeks flush with slight embarrassment. “How long are you here for?”
“Two weeks. This is the first vacation I’ve taken in at least 10 years.”
“Dios mío!” I have no idea what Isabella has said, but her tone indicates shock. She stands up and brushes the sand off of her shorts. “Well doctor, maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Sara,” I call as she walks away. She turns back, looks at me and smiles.
“See you, Sara.”
*****
The next morning I wake up early as usual. I could blame a number of things from the unfamiliar bed to emotional exhaustion, but I simply accept that I’m awake. I brush my teeth and grab a bottle of water before making my way out onto the terrace. The temperature is in the mid-70s and the humidity bearable without the sun pounding down. I decide to go for a run on the shoreline followed by a swim. I put on my bikini, a sports bra, shorts, and a tank top, grab two more bottles of water and head to the beach. I push myself hard during my run, knowing it’s because of all the stress I’ve experienced lately. Surfers work the swells against the backdrop of the sunrise. The water is choppy enough that a great swim isn’t possible, so I toss my belongings onto some dry sand and settle for a soak instead. Once cooled, I make my way back to my belongings where I watch the surfers as I drink one of the bottles of water.
The sun is well over the horizon, and most of the surfers have packed it in as I pull on my tank top and shorts, deciding it’s time for a shower. “You’re up early.” The morning sun prohibits me from seeing anything but the shadowed outline of the person approaching me. I don’t need to though, the silky voice with the sexy accent tells me who it is, not that there’s anyone else here that knows me. She approaches, and finally her form blocks enough of the sun for me to see her. She is clad in a bright blue bikini and drops of water bead and roll off of each one of her curves as she stands in the sand about a foot away from me. I watch one of the drops start at her neck and follow it as it rolls between her breast and down her abdomen before being absorbed by her bikini bottom. I return my gaze to her face and find her grinning at me.
“You surf?” She laughs, knowing that I’ve been checking her out.
“Yes. Ever try it?”
“No. Not much call for it where I live.”
“Right. Well, let me know if you want to try it.”
“Thanks, but I’d probably end up hurting myself.” I’ve been accused of being many things, but graceful was never one of them. Isabella shrugs before raising her arms to wring out her hair.
“Well Sara, I’ve got to get home. Perhaps I’ll see you later,” she says as she turns to leave.
*****
Showered and changed, I head to the restaurant for breakfast. I order an omelet, toast and a fruit smoothie. I look around and find that I’m the only person here alone. I make a mental note to remind myself to ensure my next vacation destination isn’t typically a romantic couples getaway.
Appetite sated, I head back to my suite and realize I have nothing to do. I grab my Kindle and curl up in the canopied enclosure on the terrace. I wake up during the early afternoon and curse myself, knowing that I probably won’t sleep much tonight. I head inside and grab another bottle
of water and the brochure detailing the activities the resort has to offer. Scuba diving, parasailing, golf, various classes, the list goes on and on. I make a mental note of things I might look into and decide to head back to the bar for a drink.
I seat myself on a stool with a view of the ocean. A well groomed young man approaches, flashing me a cocksure smile. I’m sure with his dirty blonde hair, ice blue eyes and chiseled features it works more often than not. “What can I get you?”
“Whiskey sour please.” He flashes me that smile again, pours my drink, then loiters, trying to make small talk. I take out my Kindle and start reading my book, hoping that he will take the hint. He backs off a little, but not enough for my liking. I focus on my book, determined to ignore him until my drink is gone. The plot picks up, and I lose track of time or what’s happening around me.