Page 62 of The Bridges I've Burned

“Hey, I meant to ask you. Your wedding dress. The one we picked out a few months ago?—”

“Yeah, that one’s out.”

She’d originally picked a gorgeous cream-colored lace gown that had a mermaid-style silhouette. It did a beautiful job of accentuating her slim curves and tall frame.

“I found something similar that is a bit more forgiving. I’m not sure how much I’ll grow in the next three weeks, and I wanted something that I wouldn’t have to panic over if my belly suddenly popped out.”

“I get that.” I wasn’t even pregnant, and there were times when a little bloat could mean the difference between a dress fitting or ending up back on the rack.

“I actually need to go pick it up this week. It’s at that same bridal shop we went to up the coast.”

“We should make a day of it,” I suggested. “Grab an early ferry and do some shopping. Have lunch?”

“That would be great,” she agreed. Then, her eyes wandered to the other side of the gym. “Oh shit. I forgot to do weights.”

She set her stuff back down and started making her way to the weight station. She looked over at me.

My arms folded over my chest, and I shook my head. “No way. That’s a hard pass for me.”

“Oh, come on! It will just be a few minutes.”

“I love you. I truly do, but I’ve had all the endorphins I can handle for the day.” I bolted for the door. “And despite what Elle Woods would say, they do not make me happy.”

She snorted. “You would leave a pregnant woman all alone?”

“Don’t try and guilt-trip me,” I hollered over my shoulder. “That’s just low. You have a phone and the sheriff on speed dial.”

“Enjoy your shower!” she hollered.

“Enjoy your weights!”

And then I ran.

I stepped out of the bathroom, feeling like a brand-new woman.

It was amazing what a good shower could do. Although Macon might not agree with me when he got his water bill this month. I walked into my room, my head bopping with the music coming from the small Bluetooth speaker on the dresser. A billow of steam trailed behind me as I tugged the soft towel tight around my body. It was time to make a plan.

A plan for vacation.

I was going to be here for three weeks—okay, it was technically two and a half weeks now, but whatever. The remainder of that time, I could not be solely reliant on Marin for entertainment. Yes, I’d come here to help her with the wedding, but she wasn’t going to need me twenty-four hours a day. It had become clear to me that I was going to have to find things to do by myself.

So, I decided to make a list.

A mental one, but a list nonetheless.

I plopped down on my neatly made bed, folding one bare leg over the other as I leaned back against the headboard.

What to do with myself for two and a half weeks.

Nearly five minutes went by, and I was coming up blank.

I was not used to failing…

I was staying on an island people purposely paid money to visit. Surely, I could find an activity or two. Maybe take up a hobby?

I thought back to the last few years of my life, and while I had told Marin I used my gym time to catch up on books and shows, the truth was, I usually used that time for—yep, you guessed it—work.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually finished an entire book.

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