"Anger, however consuming, is never the most important emotion.
It is only the very outer edge, the thinly exposed top layer of a much deeper feeling."
Dr. Edith Egar
Megan opened her eyes and momentarily wondered where she was. Oh, right—Raymond's bright idea to spend some time away from Lakeland. She knew what he was trying to do, but it wasn't going to work. He could put as much distance between her and Lakeland as he wanted, but she wouldn't change her mind about fighting for what was rightfully hers.
In the end she got her way, at least partially. If she was going away, she insisted on going to Destin. The Sandestin community had been a special place where she and Blake had enjoyed many happy vacations during their early years. If she was going to go away from her home, she wanted it to be some place that held happy memories. Raymond had tried to persuade her to go elsewhere, but she wouldn't have it. Eventually, he had no choice but to comply with her wishes.
The rental house Raymond found for her in Sandestin was stunning, but charming. The quaint, beachy clapboard house felt like something out of a fairy tale. She loved the rocking chairs on the front porch and the swing on the lanai overlooking the bay. She considered trying her hand at painting, maybe even taking a class.
That's what she had told her friends Mindy and Kim she intended to do. They had been incredulous that she was leaving Lakeland for the summer to stay at the Redneck Riviera. "They can be such snobs," she muttered to herself. Besides, they had no idea what they were talking about. The Redneck Riviera was further east, in Panama City!
She wondered what she would do today. "I suppose coffee would be a good start." She padded down the hallway in her comfy sweats and bare feet. She had stopped at Publix for a few essentials when she arrived last night, too exhausted for a full-scale shopping trip after the eight-hour drive. She pulled out the can of coffee and wondered if she could remember how to make a pot of coffee after years of using her beloved Nespresso machine. Searching through the kitchen drawers, she eventually found a tablespoon that would have to do as a coffee measure, only to realize she had forgotten filters for the drip coffee maker. She wiped away the tears trickling down her cheeks. It took little to reduce her to tears these days—apparently even forgotten coffee filters could do it. As she gazed out the window at the bay, she recalled another time when she and Blake had had to improvise.
Blake pulled a paper towel from the roll and put it in the coffee maker.
"What are you doing?" Megan asked.
He kissed her cheek and smiled. "Improvising. Haven't you ever used paper towels for coffee filters before?"
She gazed at Blake with immense love and awe, as if he had just invented the cure for cancer or something. They were in college, and they had just spent their first night together. Everything he did amazed her.
Breaking from her daze, Meg turned back to the kitchen and reached for the paper towels. "I guess these will have to do," she murmured. She pressed the paper towel into the basket, making it fit as best she could, then scooped a few tablespoons of coffee into it. After pouring in the water, she allowed herself a small smile. It was a minor victory, but a victory nonetheless, and she would take whatever she could get.
Megan went outside while her coffee brewed. The view of the bay was spectacular. The tall grass in the water was a welcoming habitat for various creatures, many of whom were making their presence known with their morning sounds. Their company made Megan feel less alone.
She nestled deeper into the large, comfy chair and propped her feet up on the ottoman. As she watched the seabirds glide effortlessly on the wind, she wondered again what had become of her life. She longed to feel as carefree as those birds. "I did once," she said aloud, pondering again where everything went wrong.
I was a good wife, she thought. "How could he do this to me?" she asked herself for the hundredth time. Tears streamed down her cheeks once more. She searched for a box of tissues before resorting to her sleeve. Drawing her knees up so her feet rested on the chair, she hugged herself tightly. Numb from the pain and shock of it all, Megan stared blankly, losing all awareness of the beautiful surroundings and the wildlife she had been enjoying just moments before.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she wiped her face on her pajama top one last time and forced herself up from the chair. She shuffled into the kitchen, only to find that the coffee pot had turned itself off. "Heck with it," she grumbled to the empty room. She padded down the hall and crawled back into bed.
It was dark out when Megan awoke to her cell phone ringing. "Hullo?" she mumbled.
"Hey, Megs!" Kim's upbeat voice came over the line. "How has your first day been?"
Megan hesitated and looked at the clock. Eight o'clock? How could that be?
Sensing her hesitation, Kim continued with her usual chatter. "Meg, were you sleeping?"
"I was just taking a little nap," Megan replied.
"At nine o'clock?"
"It's eight o'clock here. It's been a long day. I fell asleep."
"Really? What did you do today?"
Megan was not one to lie. Under no circumstance could she deceive. This wasn't always a good thing. "I've been getting acquainted with my new surroundings."
"Did you sleep all day?!" Kim knew her friend too well, and when Megan hesitated again, she pressed on. "Megan Hart! Don't tell me you've been in bed all day! Am I going to have to come up there? You are better than this! The Megan Hart I know doesn't succumb to such nonsense."
Megan started crying, and Kim softened. "Megs, I know you've been through a lot these last few weeks. No one deserves what he did to you, and you certainly don't. I just don't want to see you let him ruin you, sweetie. Haven't we always picked ourselves up and brushed ourselves off?"
"This is different, Kim," Megan said through muffled sobs. "I've gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Meg—"
But she was gone. Megan had hung up and turned her phone off. She rolled over and went back to sleep.
Megan woke to the sun glowing brightly through the bedroom window. She glanced at the clock. Nine o'clock. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so much, yet she still felt so exhausted. She lumbered into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl of ice cream, and headed out to the porch. The seabirds were happily soaring on the wind again. "You guys are way too happy," she mumbled to the birds. She abandoned the ice cream and went back to bed.
Later, a loud banging jolted Megan awake. It took her a few disoriented moments to get her bearings, at first unsure where she was. The banging persisted, and she finally got up from her bed and made her way down the hall, still uncertain about the source of the noise. Hearing it again, she finally realized it was her front door. She opened it to find Kim and Mindy standing on her porch. Now she was really confused—wasn't she in Sandestin? Their expressions were hard to read, but she knew enough to know it wasn't good news.
"Where the hell have you been?" Kim cried.
"We've been worried sick about you!" Mindy chimed in. "How could you do that to us?"
"What are you talking about?" Megan asked. "Kim, I just talked to you yesterday."
"Are you for real? That was Monday. And you hung up on me and turned your phone off."
"So I want to be alone for one day, and you two freak out?" Megan shouted. "Give me a break. I'm entitled to a day alone with my thoughts after all I've been through!"
They both looked at her in disbelief. "What?" Megan asked.
"Megs," Kim said gently. "It's Thursday."
In shocked disbelief, Megan shook her head, but she could see by their concerned expressions they weren't making it up. She dropped to the foyer floor and dissolved into tears.
Kim dropped to her knees and embraced her friend. "It's okay, sweetie. Shhh. We're here. We're headed to a concert series in New Orleans, and we got tickets for you too. We’ll all spend the weekend together, and then we'll take you home."
"No!" Megan barked, pulling away. She jumped to her feet and headed to the living room. "I'm not going back there!"
"Come on, Meg. Stop being ridiculous. What're you going to do here alone for three months?" Mindy asked.
Kim shot Mindy a look and sat next to Megan on the couch. "Sweetie, look, I know this is tough, and you thought getting away would help, but obviously your problems just followed you. You need your friends around you right now. Please, let us help you."
Kim and Mindy exchanged glances as Megan stared out the living room window toward the bay. Kim reached up to touch Megan's arm, but Megan pushed it away. Still staring out the window, she said quietly, "I'd like you both to leave now."
"Meg—"
"Please. I'm fine. I'm not crazy. I'm not suicidal. I. Just. Want. To. Be. Alone. I'd appreciate it if you would respect my wishes."
"So that's how you show your appreciation?" Mindy asked. "We go out of our way—I told you we shouldn’t have bought her those tickets, Kim."
Kim cut her off. "Of course we'll respect your wishes, Meg. Just know that if there's anything you need, anything at all, you can call me. Day or night. Okay? And we’ll be coming back through here after the weekend if you change your mind."
For the first time, Megan's eyes met her friend's. "Okay. And thanks."
"Of course, sweetie. We love you." She hugged Megan and turned to lead Mindy to the car, but Mindy was already out the door.
After they'd left, Megan walked back to the kitchen. "What a mess."
Apparently, she had made several attempts to eat over the last few days. There were uneaten plates of food on the counter, the kitchen table, and the coffee table in the small sitting area at one end of the kitchen.
"Okay, Hart," she told herself, "it's time to get your act together." She scraped the food into the trash and had the place looking spotless in no time.
I guess a shower would be in order, she thought, heading back down the hall. She looked around the master bedroom and truly saw it for the first time since arriving on Sunday. Of course, she had seen it on some level, but she hadn't fully appreciated it, having been on autopilot and only taking in the beautiful nature she'd enjoyed from the lanai on her first day there.
The beautifully decorated master bedroom blended Tommy Bahama, beach cottage, and vintage styles. Rather than clashing, the styles harmonized perfectly, with the beachy and vintage touches preventing the Tommy Bahama style from feeling too dark and masculine.
For the first time, Megan noticed the French doors at one end of the room and walked through them to step outside. The view over the bay was breathtaking. She appreciated the area in a way she hadn't a few days ago. She realized that a well-appointed outdoor kitchen area was at one end of the outdoor area, and at the opposite, a seating area with comfortable chairs faced a beautiful fireplace. Directly in front of her was a kidney-shaped pool, with a waterfall flowing from the attached hot tub.
I can't believe I've been wasting all of this. She decided to skip the shower for now and go for a swim. Digging through her still unpacked suitcase, Megan found her swimsuit, and, ready for a dip, went to the kitchen just long enough to grab some water in a plastic cup. On the sunny lanai, she lay back on a lounge chair, closed her eyes, and smiled for the first time in weeks. There's something about feeling the warm sun on your face. The events of the past few weeks swirled through her mind, yet she experienced a newfound sense of control for the first time since reaching Sandestin. "No more self-pity parties," she told herself. It was time to regain control of her life, and the first order of business was to claim what was rightfully hers. There was no way she was going to let some home wrecker take half of what belonged to her, especially considering the financial mess left by Blake. No doubt because he was so distracted by that gold digger.
A million angry thoughts soon replaced Megan's peaceful state, and she found herself unable to relax and enjoy her surroundings. Hungry, she decided to shower and take the golf cart down to the Wharf for some lunch. I guess I should unpack first, she thought, returning to her room. A neat freak by nature, it was unlike her to have left everything unsettled for nearly a week. That had been an ongoing issue between her and Blake, and she suddenly recalled one of many arguments they'd had, this one rather recent.
"Blake, is it really so much to ask that you take care of your wet towels?" Megan complained one morning as she was getting ready to go to her tennis lesson. "Seriously, we've been married for how many years now, and you still drop your wet towels on the carpet. Why can't you respect how I feel? If you tell me something bothers you, I stop doing it. Why don't you show me the same respect?"
Blake continued to shave, not bothering to offer a response, which only made her more furious. Throwing the wet towel at his feet, she stormed out of the house, filled with rage and already rehearsing the conversation she'd have with Mindy and Kim when she arrived at the tennis courts, telling them all about her inconsiderate husband.
Megan shook her head, returned to the present. "He was such a jerk," she told herself. Pushing the thoughts aside, she continued unpacking her belongings, hanging her clothes in the spacious walk-in closet and arranging her toiletries neatly in the stunning master bathroom. The bathroom decor matched the bedroom, and Megan felt like she was at a five-star resort. The large walk-in shower featured multiple shower heads and a bench at one end. Stepping onto the beautiful river rock that covered the shower floor, Megan was soon sitting beneath the shower's spray, sobbing uncontrollably, as grief overwhelmed her once again.
An hour later, having regained control of her emotions and dressed to impress, Megan headed to the Wharf in her luxurious golf cart. It was the Cadillac of carts, and she enjoyed the ride through the development as she headed to lunch. She decided that after she ate, she would explore all the little subdivisions that Sandestin offered and admire the scenery. Looking at architecture was a pastime she loved.
The Another Broken Egg Cafe had been a favorite when she and Blake had vacationed here, and she wasn't sure whether returning there was a good idea. But, feeling strong again, she decided it would be a positive step in the healing process. She was soon seated in the restaurant, at a table near one of the front windows facing the outdoors. The place was charming, and she was glad she'd come. She could feel the old Megan returning, strong and resilient, ready to face whatever life had in store for her.
"Hello, I'm Tabitha, and I'll be taking care of you today. Can I start you off with some coffee or juice?"
Megan looked up at the server with a blank stare. Tabitha, Tabitha, where had she heard that name recently? She examined the young woman, likely in her late twenties, with strikingly beautiful blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a stunning appearance. She glanced at the woman's name tag. Tabitha Hart.
Megan trembled. She abruptly pushed back from the table, causing her chair to fall backward with a loud crash. She felt every eye in the restaurant turn to look at her. Tabitha regarded her with a kind expression. "Are you okay, ma'am?"
"Actually, I'm not feeling well. I'm sorry. I've—I've got to go." Bolting out the door, Megan looked right and left, not sure where to go. Cold, clammy, and shaking uncontrollably, she thought her broken heart might kill her right there in front of Another Broken Egg. She heard the door open behind her and Tabitha's voice. "Ma'am, should I call someone for you?"
Ignoring the question, Megan ran. She dashed to the left and across the small wooden footbridge that spanned the pond, turned right past the quaint shops, took a left at Rum Runners, and kept running until she stood on the dock that stretched out into the bay. She ran all the way to the end, attempting to put as much distance between herself and the rest of the world, and especially Tabitha Hart, as possible. She didn't want anyone to witness her leaning on the railing and breaking down. With tears streaming down her face, Megan found herself once again in the throes of a full-out, ugly cry.
Now it all made sense. She understood why Raymond had tried so hard to dissuade her from coming to Sandestin. He knew. He knew that Tabitha Hart, Blake's other "wife" was here. Where did the deception end? Was there no one she could trust? Sitting on the dock with her feet dangling over the edge, Megan gazed out at the water, feeling utterly lost. She no longer knew anything—where she belonged, who she could trust, or even who she was. She wished she could just slip into the water and sink to the bottom forever. Would anyone even miss her?
Suddenly, all of her past decisions came into question. She had centered her life around being Mrs. Blake Hart. There was a certain amount of prestige that accompanied that title. Was that what she'd become? A woman who cared only about having a prestigious title, a fancy house on Lake Hollingsworth, playing tennis with other "titled wives"? She thought back to when she and Blake had been in college. They had no money, but they were so happy.
Megan and Blake gazed into each other's eyes from the confines of the tiny shower in his apartment. Barely big enough for one, they happily squeezed both bodies in together because they didn't want to be apart even long enough to shower.
"I have Kraft Mac & Cheese we can have for dinner," Blake said, "but I'm not sure about lunch. I have less than four dollars until I get paid tomorrow."
"Grilled cheese," Megan smiled. "A loaf of bread and two slices of cheese from the deli. That will be more than enough."
We thought we'd died and gone to heaven. We didn't have two nickels to rub together, yet we were happier than ever. She wondered what had changed . . . why, and how. And how did she end up here, with no husband, no career, and seemingly no friends—at least none to whom she could relate. Suddenly, they all seemed so superficial to her.
Megan thought back to Tabitha at the restaurant. As her nerves settled, she considered how she could use the situation to her advantage. I know who she is, but she doesn't know who I am. Clearly, she could use this to her benefit. Yes, that's what she'd do. She would gain Tabitha's trust and persuade the woman to confide in her. She would get Tabitha to admit she'd just been after Blake's money and prevent her from getting her hands on what didn't belong to her.
With renewed strength, Megan rose from the dock and returned to her red golf cart. She'd come back in a few days to confront the fraudulent "Mrs. Hart." For now, she was going to go back to the house to plan.
Megan prepared herself some lunch at the house and made another attempt to relax by the pool. She could contemplate her plan while she sunbathed. She decided against her original thought of calling Raymond to scold him for not telling her about Tabitha. She didn't want him to know what she was up to. He would likely argue that it was dishonest, instead of acknowledging that she was merely conducting investigative work to right a wrong.
Megan felt herself melting into the comfortable lounger, finding solace again in the warm sun. She listened to the birds singing and felt her spirit lift, but her mood was soon interrupted.
"What the—!" Megan leaped from her chair, startled by the sound of her lanai door opening. She grabbed her towel, and wrapping it around herself, scowled at the unexpected visitor. "What are you doing?!" she shouted.
"I'm sorry," her visitor replied. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Sam Winston. I take care of the pool and landscaping here. The management company should have told you. I come by on Mondays and Fridays."
"Well, they didn't tell me, and I have no way of knowing if you are who you say you are, so if you don't mind, I'm going inside to call them."
Sam smiled. "Of course. Absolutely. You can't be too careful these days."
Megan rushed inside, locked the door, and removed the magnet from the refrigerator bearing the number for First Class Travel. As she waited for an answer, she watched through the window as Sam began his duties. He was about her age, late 30s to early 40s, and undeniably hot. He stood about six-foot-two, well-built and without an ounce of fat. Indeed, he was all muscle. As she studied his chiseled cheekbones, Megan suddenly realized there was someone on the other end of the line.
"Is anyone there?"
"Oh, sorry," Megan replied. "This is Megan Hart at the Bird's Nest property. There's a man here, Sam something, who says he takes care of the pool and yard?"
"Yes, that's right. I apologize, Mrs. Hart. Someone should have informed you. Sam is a great guy, but feel free to call if you have any issues."
"Okay, thanks." Megan continued to stare out the window as she hung up the phone.
Having no desire to socialize with the maintenance man, Megan remained inside until Sam Winston's truck had pulled out of the driveway. His arrival had ruined the mood, anyway. She got dressed and settled in the living room. She had spent no time in this room yet, and she looked around, appreciating its beauty. Similar to the master suite, the living room combined Tommy Bahama and vintage beach cottage styles and was tastefully done. She sunk into the big, comfortable club chair and propped her feet on the large ottoman. Closing her eyes, she attempted to concentrate on her breathing and relax, but her mind was too cluttered with thoughts.
Megan found it hard to believe she'd run into Tabitha Hart on her first outing, and at her favorite restaurant at the Wharf. So much for her go-to breakfast spot. She thought about the young woman who'd married her husband. Tabitha was young and beautiful, with blonde hair and big blue eyes. But a waitress? That was so cliché, wasn't it? Why did men always cheat with waitresses and barmaids?
Megan considered Tabitha's beauty and social standing, but she was blind to the kindness in Tabitha's eyes and the warmth in her spirit. In fact, it surprised Megan to find Tabitha working. She'd imagined a gold digger who didn't work, someone who played tennis and had lunch with her friends. Someone . . . like herself.
She must've gotten the job after Blake passed away. She still couldn't accept the possibility that Tabitha might be more than just a woman after her husband's money.
Saturday was a beautiful day, and Megan decided to take the golf cart down to the beach. She'd been here almost a full week, and she had yet to put her feet in the sand. Normally drawn to the water, it was unlike her to have waited so long.
She loaded a beach chair, blanket, towels, and bottles of water into the cart and made her way through the community and across to the beach side. As she unloaded everything she'd brought, she wished she'd thought to bring something with wheels to cart everything from the parking lot to the beach. She'd have to make two trips.
"Here, let me help you." Megan jumped at the unexpected voice. She turned to see Sam Winston standing behind her. Was he following her?
"You scared the hell out of me!" she exclaimed.
"I'm sorry. I was on my way up to the restaurant, and I saw you struggling. Let me help you." He reached to take some items from her.
Pulling away, Megan wondered about a restaurant that allowed the community employees to patronize the establishment. "I'm fine, thanks," she replied curtly.
Walking away, Sam shrugged. "Suit yourself." After a few steps, he paused and turned around. "I hope your vacation gets better for you. It's too beautiful here to be so unhappy." He turned back and continued toward the restaurant.
Megan scowled. What the hell does he know? He has no idea what I've been through. She grabbed the rest of her belongings, determined now to prove she could carry it all in one trip with no help, and trudged across the parking lot to the beach, stopping every few feet to rearrange her load as it slipped from her grasp.
From the restaurant deck, Sam watched in amusement.
Finally settled on the beach, Megan tried to relax as the sun warmed her face. It felt good to lie there and bask in the sun, but preoccupied in plotting her revenge, its effect was not as therapeutic as it had been for her in the past. She thought about the old saying, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," and she decided that was exactly what she was going to do. She'd go back to Another Broken Egg on Monday, and she'd chat with Tabitha to get to know her. In time, she'd get Tabitha to admit she'd known Blake was married and had just been after his money. Forget attorneys. She had this one figured out, and she could handle it herself, without their help. Raymond didn't seem like he wanted to help her, anyway.
She thought about her last conversation with her attorney before she'd left for Destin. He'd begged her to reconsider, to choose a location that didn't have so many memories. Of course, now she knew what he was really concerned about: this location contained that horrible woman who had stolen her husband.
She wondered how Raymond could do this to her. Raymond, of all people. He'd known her since she was a toddler. Why had he kept Blake's secrets, and why was he protecting Tabitha now?
To hell with all of them. As she continued working out her plan, she drifted off to sleep.
Megan woke several hours later. Someone was standing over her, and she opened her eyes to see Sam.
"What the—"
"Hey, I just wanted to check on you," Sam interjected. "You've been out here for three hours without moving, and you're getting pretty red."
Megan sat up, enraged. "You've been spying on me?"
"Trust me, I've got better things to do." Sam pointed to a nearby volleyball net. "I've been playing in a tournament. We were just leaving, and I noticed how red you were. You might want to put something on that," he concluded, walking away. A gentleman by nature, Sam normally would have offered to help Megan back to the parking lot with her things. He knew she would struggle to carry anything on those sunburned shoulders. But he just wasn't in the mood to deal with her arrogance any more today. She'd have to figure it out.
Megan found it difficult to get up from her blanket. With every inch of her burned, there was pain in every movement. She scowled in Sam's direction as he headed toward the parking lot. Sure, he couldn't offer to help now, could he? Typical.
She gingerly bent over to pick up her blanket, and without bothering to shake off the sand, she crumbled it under one arm, and grabbing her small cooler of water with the other hand, headed toward the parking lot. Hell with the chair. I'll buy another one.
She threw her things into the back of her golf cart and painfully climbed into the front, one leg at a time, wincing with every movement. Just as she was about to pull out, a boy came running up to her cart.
"Excuse me! You forgot your chair!" Out of breath and with pride written all over his face, the boy held out the chair she'd left on the beach.
Megan rolled her eyes. "I don't have any money with me," she snapped.
The boy looked confused. "No," he countered, "this is your chair."
"Just throw it in the back," she barked.
The boy did as she ordered and returned to his parents, head slumped, hands in his pockets, and kicking stones as he went. Why was that lady so mean? He'd been so happy to help, and he'd thought she would be pleased.
Megan watched him walk away, deflated by how she’d spoken to him. More miserable than ever, she returned to her rental house, left everything in the cart, went inside, and locked the door behind her. Leaning against it, she burst into tears. Every inch of the front side of her body was in searing pain. Was there no end to her suffering?
Unable to bear the needles of a shower stream, Megan ran a bath in the large soaking tub of her master suite. Finding bubble bath in the linen closet, she poured some into the tub. As she watched the bubbles rise, she became lost in her memories.
It was their first home, and although it was old and tiny, the previous owner had put a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. It wasn't any larger than a normal tub, but Blake and Megan managed to make room for both of them. It was their first night in the house, and they were so in love, with a lifetime ahead of them. They soon learned that Jacuzzi jets will multiply bubbles tenfold, and before they knew it, bubbles were spilling over the side of the tub and blanketing the floor. It didn't matter to either of them, though—all that mattered was that they were together. Lying back behind Megan, Blake encouraged her to turn around and look at him. He'd covered his entire face in bubbles, and they both collapsed in laughter.
Megan shook her head, returning to the present just in time to prevent the bubbles from overflowing the tub. That would have been the last straw for her today. For a moment, she wondered what happened to the young woman who could laugh away the mess of bubbles all over the floor. She quickly brushed aside the thought.
Megan awoke Sunday morning feeling no better than she had the night before. She needed to use the bathroom, but she wasn't sure how she would manage to get out of bed. Staring at the ceiling, tears flowed again, trickling from the corners of her eyes and into her ears. Forgetting her burn, she swiped at the tears gathering in the crevices of her ears, only to cry out in pain at her own touch.
What had she been thinking coming here, so far from home and everything she knew? She could go back, just pack her things and abandon her brilliant idea of getting away for a while. But that would mean admitting defeat. And besides, what would she go back to?
She didn't know where she belonged anymore, or even who she was. She had spent her entire adult life as Mrs. Blake Hart, focused on ensuring that they traveled in the right circles. She even chose her volunteer work based on how it would advance them in society.
She had never felt so alone. She realized that while she had acquaintances she played tennis with and joined for lunch at the Country Club, she had no true friends back home. No one she really talked to or confided in. No one she trusted.
"How did this happen?" she asked the empty room. Gritting her teeth, she pulled back the covers and painstakingly made her way out of bed and into the bathroom. Staring back at her from the mirror was a woman she didn't even recognize. "Not really a woman at all," she said out loud. "Just an empty shell."
She knew she needed to put more aloe on her red skin, but she wasn't sure she had the energy. She stood staring at the aloe on the bathroom counter, her mind drifting again.
"We'll take two Bahama Mamas," Blake told the server. Megan smiled at him across the table. They were in their special booth at Tommy Bahamas, enjoying another weekend getaway at the beach. Covered in aloe, they were both red as lobsters from their day spent by the hotel pool.
Life had become much easier for them over the last year, with Blake's career really taking off. They'd started looking for a bigger house, but they couldn't agree on what they wanted. Blake had simple needs, but Megan had her eyes set on something more impressive. She knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in—he always did.
Why was she thinking about that now? She shivered despite her burns and squeezed some aloe into her hands, rubbing them together to warm it up before gingerly applying it all over her red skin.
Fully covered in the sticky substance, Megan made her way back to her bed, arms outstretched and walking like a robot to minimize the movement of her painful skin as much as possible. She propped up the pillows and grabbed the TV remote.
Flipping through the channels, Megan landed on the O Network. Curious, she watched Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday.