Wash

On the way to Australia, our first stop, I sat back and folded my hands across my lap. I knew I needed to keep myself busy so Jake wouldn’t try to talk to me. I picked up a magazine and started thumbing through it, pretending to be totally engrossed.

Next to me, Jake buckled his seatbelt. He leafed through the literature given to him by my lawyer, then started Googling the resort. “I got their website,” he said, then went on to read it to me. “Green Island Resort, on the Great Barrier Reef, is one of the most unique and memorable destinations in Tropical North Queensland. A coral cay, a luxury resort, a natural wonderland unlike any other…Indulgence, romance, and adventure await on this tropical island paradise.”

“Sounds wonderful, except for the romance part.”

Utterly silenced, he swallowed hard and looked away.

My gaze drifted over to a young woman who was babbling away about her upcoming wedding, flipping through the pages of a popular bridal magazine. As all the painful memories of my own destroyed nuptial bliss flooded back, I glanced down at the floor and let out a long breath. The first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, the first New Year’s, and the first birthday without him had been absolutely unbearable. I couldn’t help but let out another huff as the girl kept chatting away.

“Again, Ashly, I’m sorry,” Jake said, “but I swear I’m a different person now.”

“Don’t you remember our deal? You’re not supposed to talk to me.”

“If that’s what you want, have it your way.”

The girl next to us went on and on about her designer wedding dress. My temples pounded, and I tried to rub them with my fingers, desperately trying to tune her out.

“Maybe this is exactly what we need for closure, to spend lots of time together and—”

Lots of time together? Whoa, boy! I think not! I motioned for him to stop talking, and then I flagged down the flight attendant. “Excuse me, miss, but I’m gonna need alcohol, and lots of it, if I’m gonna make it through this flight.”

Jake turned and met my gaze straight on. “Is this how it’s going to be the entire trip?”

“This is just the tip of the iceberg. When this plane lands, I suggest you get off of it as quick as you can. Hell hath no fury—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, cutting me off. “So you’re a woman scorned. Look, I know you’re still mad, but can’t you be at least civil to me?”

Civil? To you? Hell no! I’d wallowed in grief for so long that he deserved none of my pity, politeness, or manners. I stared down and swallowed hard again. “I’ll try,” I muttered.

“Good,” he said, “because I want us to be friends. I really do, Ashly.”

I felt uncomfortable and trapped onboard that plane. Sitting next to my ex only forced me to dwell on him more, and the memories weren’t pleasant ones. “I just can’t do it,” I heard over and over again, his words that had haunted me for so long. I’d gone through therapy, lots of life-changing therapy, and I’d even dated some pretty wonderful guys since my groom ran away, but none of those relationships had ever worked out, if they could even be called relationships at all. I hated Jake. I was angry and bitter, and I couldn’t stop wondering where he was on the anniversary of the day we met, our first date, and what would have been our wedding anniversary. There was no top tier for me to pull out of the freezer and enjoy because my wedding cake, like everything else about that day, had gone to waste.

I glanced over the itinerary and once again hated the fact that I had little to no control over the vacation. My lawyer, under the instruction of my departed mother, had set everything up. I was a stickler for detail and enjoyed carefully planning the agendas for every trip I went on, right down to the minute. Now, I had no involvement in how we would spend our time, and that bothered me.

To make matters worse, I was worried about the boutique and what would become of mine and Nadia’s grand plans. I had a new business I was trying to get off the ground, and I wondered if it would even be possible for me to relax.

As I tapped away on my laptop, Jake looked over at me. “Mind if I ask what you’re doing?” he asked.

“It’s none of your concern,” I said as politely as possible.

He gazed over and stared at the computer screen.

I let out a huff. “If you must know, I’m writing a long-overdue post on my fashion blog.”

“What’s the post about?”

“Um…knowing more than just fashion. It’s about how anyone in fashion design also needs to be aware of all the aspects of marketing, product design, and production. It also requires a good head for business and a good label to market a fashion line.”

“Interesting.”

“If you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.”

He nodded, put his earbuds in, and started watching some kind of adventure movie s

tarring a swashbuckling, fedora-wearing hero who would never have left his lady abandoned at an altar.

When the plane finally set down, we took a boat over to the island, where we checked into our lodging. Covered walkways connected the guestrooms to the reception area and private guest facilities. There was an elegant restaurant and bar, and a lounge area overlooked the shimmering pool. The little island was beautiful, just like the brochure promised, and when I walked out on the balcony and gazed around at the lush tropical rainforest, I had to be thankful for the opportunity to see it. According to the brochure, most visitors to the island would leave by three, so those of us staying at the resort would have the entire island to ourselves.