Allegiant

by Sara Mack

  “Is there a problem?” Dane asks as he approaches me, his hand full of papers.

  “Please tell me you know where we’re going,” I nearly whimper.

  “I know where we’re going,” he says confidently.

  “Thank God,” I sigh and pull my body off the chair. I adjust my backpack on my shoulder and gesture ahead of us. “Lead the way.”

  Outside in the airport rental lot, Dane consults the papers in his hand to locate the parking space that holds our car. When he stops in front of a red Aveo, I burst into a fit of giggles, wrapping my arms around my sides. “You’re not serious?” I laugh. This car is the size of a roller skate; Dane will never be able to drive it.

  “Hey,” he gives me a crooked smile. “Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s late and we didn’t have a reservation. This is what we get.” He unlocks the car and lifts the hatch. Only one of our bags and my backpack will fit in the trunk; the other bag has to go in the backseat.

  I climb into the passenger side and Dane wedges himself in to the driver’s seat, sliding it back as far as possible to accommodate his legs. Even with the seat adjusted his knees still hit the steering wheel.

  “Do you want me to drive?” I ask, suppressing more laughter.

  “Have you ever driven on the left side of the road?”

  I shake my head. “No, but it’s late. There’s probably little traffic.”

  He buckles his seatbelt. “I’m driving.” He sets his phone in a cup holder on the dash and pulls up an address. “Here we go,” he says and starts the car.

  “I take it you’ve been here before?”

  He looks over his shoulder to back out of the parking space. “To vacation, yes.” He faces forward and puts the car in drive. “But not at this same place.”

  We leave the airport and pull out onto a deserted two lane highway. As Dane follows the GPS instructions, I stare out the window, following the coastline as we drive. I roll the window down and a blast of salty sea air hits me. The headlights bounce off the palm trees that line the road, and I allow myself a small smile. Under different circumstances, this could be my type of place.

  The GPS tells us to turn left ahead, then right, then left again. Around twenty minutes later, we end up in a residential area, where huge homes are sporadically spaced. Some of them have gated drives, some don’t. Most have impressive landscaping that is lit up in the night; I even catch a few water features here and there. We’re clearly passing through a wealthy part of the island; there’s no way we’re staying anywhere around here. There aren’t any hotels as far as I can see.

  As usual, my assumption is wrong as the GPS tells us our destination is approaching on our right. Dane slows the car and then turns onto a short paved drive which is lined with palm trees. We roll to a stop in front of a large three car garage where he cuts the engine and turns to me with relief. “We made it.”

  I shoot him a look of disbelief. “Here?” I glance to the garage and back to him again. “We’re staying here?”

  One side of his mouth quirks up. “Yes. Well, in the house attached to the garage, yes, we’re staying here.” He smiles. “Let’s go.” He opens the car door and pulls himself out of the small space, standing and stretching.

  I push my door open and exit the roller skate, slamming it behind me. I walk around to the back of the car to join Dane, who already has my backpack and suitcase unloaded.

  “Here.” He reaches into his back pocket and opens his wallet. He hands me a piece of paper. “This is the security code to unlock the front door. Go ahead; I’ll be right behind you.”

  I take the paper from him and pull my backpack on to my shoulder. He grabs my suitcase and carries it around the side of the car as he retrieves his. I turn and walk slowly up the well-lit cobbled path that leads to the front door, admiring what I can make out of the intricate landscaping. This place must be gorgeous in the daylight. When I pry my eyes away from the yard, the front porch appears before me and I walk up two steps to the door. The outside of the house is covered in an aggregate of large stones, each a different shape and color. I search for a keypad and find it off to the right, under a folded note taped to the stone. The paper has Dane’s name scribbled across it, and I remove it to punch in the code. I hit enter, hear the definite click of the door unlock, and let myself inside.

  Holy crap. This place looks like I just stepped into an episode of HGTV. My wide eyes roam the surroundings, and I take a few tentative steps forward. The entryway spills into a tiled great room, the ceiling made up of exposed weathered beams. The walls are covered in a rich wood paneling, and the entire wall opposite me is constructed of floor to ceiling windows that are covered in ivory drapes that billow and puddle on the floor. The living area is full of plump furniture in a sage green trimmed in honey oak with end tables to match. A large flat screen adorns the wall across from the couches, and a dining table sits back by the windows, carved from the same honey oak, and surrounded with chairs to seat six. Fresh flowers adorn every flat surface, and I can see that the room extends to my left, rounding a corner. My mind races. Whose house is this? I glance down at the note in my hands and unfold it.

  Mr. Dane & Mrs. Teagan Walker,

  Congratulations on your recent nuptials! We are so happy we were able to accommodate the change in your rental date. We hope that you find everything to your satisfaction. Should you require anything or have other concerns, please contact us directly at 340 691 6143. Our staff is on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

  Thank you for choosing Luxury Retreats International! We appreciate your business!

  Sincerely,

  Loretta Young

  LRI, Inc.

  A sarcastic snort of laughter escapes as I let my backpack fall from my shoulder. There’s no way this day could get any more bizarre; my exhaustion level must be through the roof. I could swear I just read that Dane and Teagan are married. I reread the letter. No, that’s what it says.

  I hear the door open behind me and the sound of suitcases being set on the floor. “So,” Dane appears by my side, “what do you think?”

  I look up from the note and into his eyes, my expression wracked with confusion.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks, searching my face.

  I swallow. “You brought me on your honeymoon?”

  Chapter 23

  Dane looks guilty and trips on his words. “No! Well, yes…kind of.” He steps toward me as I step back.

  I curse without thinking twice. “Teagan is going to flip her shit! She already despises me!”

  “She has no idea we’re here.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. Have I stepped into some sort of Twilight Zone?

  He puts his hands on his hips. “Remember when I told you her mom wouldn’t let up on the wedding plans? That she made me book a honeymoon?”

  I nod as I remember the conversation we had in his car after the Halloween party.

  “Well, this is it,” he says. “It was supposed to be a surprise; Teagan never knew this was the destination. And since it’s non-refundable and I’m not getting married…” he trails off and sighs. “I think it turned out to be quite convenient if you ask me.”

  My face falls as I attempt to process everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours. Super excited about future – check. Forced to run away from home and abandon said future – check. Tucked away on a tropical island on someone else’s honeymoon – check. I glance down at the letter in my hand and slowly hold it out to Dane. “There’s an emergency number listed in case you need it.”

  He takes the paper. “What? Are you upset now? Mad? Talk to me.”

  I blink in slow motion. “I’m not sure what I am.” I bend to pick up my backpack and then stand, frowning. “I’m overwhelmed. Everything’s happened so fast…”

  His eyes search mine. “Tell me about it.”

  We stand there regarding each other for silent seconds. A realization hits his features and he backs away, pulling his phone from his pock
et. “I forgot; I need to send some messages.”

  He opens his email and runs his finger up the screen, scrolling. “One to my dad,” he says, staring at the phone, “telling him I’ve been called out of town for work.” He selects the message and hits send. “And one to my boss,” he continues and scrolls some more, “with my resignation.”

  “Wait!” I blurt out. “Don’t send that! When did you decide to resign?”

  “On the plane while you slept.” He gives me a knowing look. I wasn’t really sleeping.

  “You can’t resign from your job! Especially over me!”

  “Emma, I was going to be fired anyway,” he says. “This just gives me an excuse to quit early.” He deliberately holds out the phone, so I can see him press send.

  I look away and fight the angry tears behind my eyes. Is there any part of this man’s life that I haven’t ruined? I work to pull myself together as I gather my suitcase. “I need a shower and some sleep,” I mumble as I walk past him and into the great room. “This way?” I gesture to my left.

  He shrugs in ignorance and grabs his suitcase to follow me.

  We walk through the living area and around the corner. A modern kitchen greets us, complete with an island and breakfast bar. Fresh fruit, crackers, cheese, and a bottle of wine sit in a basket on the island next to a white card that reads Congratulations! I choose to ignore it and keep walking. At the end of the hallway is a large set of double doors. I press down on the handles and push the doors open, revealing a spacious master suite.

  I step inside as my eyes roam the room in awe. The dresser, armoire, and bedside tables are all made of a rich, dark wood. Large sliding glass doors make up most of the wall to my right and through them I can see a spot lit patio. The same tile and exposed beams found in main part of the home cover the floor and the ceiling, but these walls are painted in a pale sage. More fresh flowers and plants adorn the surfaces in the room, and there is even enough space for an additional wicker couch and chair. And the bed – is there a bigger size than a king? This bed is huge, made of the same dark wood, and covered in plush beige comforter with a leaf design. I abandon my luggage to walk forward and run my hand across it. I want to dive into this bed and never get out.

  Dane breaks my bed-swimming fantasy by walking into my line of vision. He heads for an open door and flips a light switch. “I found the bathroom,” he says, clearly not as impressed as I am in regard to the room’s decor. I look at the bed of dreams and sigh, wondering if the guest room contains the same thing. Obviously this will be Dane’s room; he paid for the place. I turn and walk back toward the double doors.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “To find the guest room,” I say, tired. I grab my things and head down the short hallway, passing the kitchen. I walk through the living area and head for the opposite side of the house. There’s a closed door off the entryway and when I get to it, I pull the handle with gusto and blink into the darkness of a hollow space. I fumble for a light switch and end up hitting a button. I jump as a bright light pops on and one of the garage doors starts to loudly rise. The garage? I found the freaking garage?! Where’s the guest room? A house this size surely has more than one bedroom. I sigh and press the button to lower the door. After closing the interior door behind me, I cross my arms and survey my options.

  “There’s supposed to be another suite in the pavilion off the patio,” Dane says, appearing around the corner.

  I frown at him. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “You walked away before I could.”

  I make my way to the glass wall and find one of the sliding door handles. I unlock it and step out into the tropical night with Dane behind me. A warm breeze blows, rustling the palm trees that dot the patio. I spy the pavilion on the opposite side of the swimming pool and walk around the blue water to reach it. The pavilion door is another sliding one, and I locate the handle in the dim light and pull. It’s locked.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I groan and rest my head against the glass.

  “Let me try,” Dane volunteers and gives the handle a tug. “Yeah, that’s locked,” he says and steps back.

  “Maybe there’s another keypad?” I ask and start searching the stone wall for buttons.

  Dane cups his hands around his eyes and peers into the pavilion against the glass. “It wouldn’t matter,” he says and moves down a few steps to look again. “There’s nothing in there but patio furniture.”

  “What?” I copy his stance, pressing my hands against the glass and looking inside. Tables and chairs in various shapes and sizes are crammed together and stacked haphazardly on top of one another. I back away from the building. “I think this qualifies as not finding everything to our satisfaction.”

  “They probably figured we wouldn’t need two bedrooms,” he says in defense of the retreat company. “Besides, I only gave them – what? – eight hours notice? We’re lucky the place was even available.”

  I scowl. “I thought you said you prepaid?”

  “I did,” he sighs, exasperated. “But I never gave them a time frame. We still hadn’t picked a wedding date.”

  I stare at the ground. All I want to do is shower and go to sleep. That’s it. That’s all.

  “C’mon.” Dane reaches out and takes my hand. He turns me around and tows me toward the main house.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To bed.”

  I stop walking and try to pull my hand away. “I’m sorry?”

  “Don’t be dramatic,” he says over his shoulder and tugs my arm, forcing me to follow. “We’re tired, it’s late, and we’re sharing a room. Get over it.”

  We step over the threshold into the main house and he slides the door closed behind us, never letting me go. My mind flashes back to the night of the Halloween party, where he led me around by my wrist. We walk over to my suitcase and backpack, which I abandoned by the garage, and he picks them up in one hand. He leads me down the hallway and back in to the bedroom, tossing my bags on the bed.

  “There,” he says and lets go of my hand. He regards my expression and rolls his eyes. “Please. It’s not like we haven’t slept together before.” He walks around to the opposite side of the bed, unzips his suitcase, and starts to unload his clothes.

  I reach for my bag to follow suit as my mind races with sarcastic thoughts. Sure, why shouldn’t we share a room, let alone the same bed? There’s absolutely no way this will be awkward, none at all. I forcefully unzip my bag and start to rummage through it for clean underwear and pajamas. What is he thinking? Isn’t he the least bit uncomfortable with this? He knows the truth now; he knows James is still in my life.

  I catch a glimpse of him under my lashes as he locates what he was looking for. He tucks a pair of dark blue sleep pants under his arm, picks up his toothbrush and toothpaste, and looks at me. “I’ll just be a minute. Then you can shower or whatever.”

  I nod as he turns to head into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I sigh and return to digging through my clothes. I’ve found the underwear, but I can’t find my pajamas. And what am I going to do with all of these jeans and sweaters? I can’t wear this stuff here. I’m going to have to pick up some new clothes. Either that or roast to death.

  Minutes later, when Dane emerges from the bathroom, I’m still searching.

  “What exploded?” he asks, eyeing my strewn clothes and empty suitcase.

  I throw my hands up. “Apparently I forgot to pack pajamas.” I look up from the bed and stop in my tracks. He’s standing in the doorway shirtless, wearing only the pants. My eyes slide over his hard chest and I blush, remembering the last time we were in a bedroom alone together.

  He smirks upon seeing my reaction and tries to contain it, stepping forward to snag a t-shirt off his clothes pile. He walks around the bed toward me, pulling it over his head. “Are you sure?”

  I roll my eyes. “Um, yeah. I’m sure.”

  He peruses my garment mountain and a slow smile sp
reads across his face. He reaches out and plucks a pair of underwear off the bed; unfortunately, they’re the pale pink granny kind. “Yet you remembered these?” he asks, grinning.

  “Give me those!” I grab them from his hand. “You’re not helping!”

  He laughs and then reaches across to his pile. “Here.” He tosses me one of his t-shirts. “Wear this.”

  I unfold the black shirt to find it’s a concert tee from a Kings of Leon show.

  “That should be big enough to cover everything,” he says, chuckling. “Even if you’re wearing a pair of those.” He nods toward the underwear in my hand.

  I narrow my eyes and hold the shirt to my chest. I pick up my toiletry bag and shower supplies, and then skirt around him toward the bathroom. “Not everyone can afford to shop at Victoria’s Secret you know.”

  I hear his voice from behind. “Well, maybe we can change that.”

  My face flushes and I turn around. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” I snap and shut the door with my foot. The nerve!

  The bathroom is just an impressive as the rest of the house. There’s a sunken tub with spa jets surrounded by candles and a separate shower, along with two sinks, and mirrors that travel from the counter to the ceiling. It’s not difficult to catch a glimpse of yourself in such a large piece of glass, and I cringe at my reflection. I look like absolute hell. Anyone who looks like this should be wearing granny panties.

  I set my things on the counter and then take my shampoo, conditioner, and razor to the shower and place them inside. I turn the faucet and hold my hand under the water, waiting for it to warm up. Once it’s toasty, I step out of my clothes and under the water, letting it beat on my back. I turn around and realize the showerhead is adjustable and play with the settings. I find one pattern that’s particularly nice and stand beneath the pounding water with my eyes closed. I have died and gone to shower heaven.