Page 1 of From Maybe to Baby

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ALEXA

Not gonna lie—slippinginto blissful sleep during a five-hundred-dollar massage is the height of luxury for a girl like me. Even better, drooling on overpriced bamboo sheets while someone turns my muscles into butter is exactly the kind of experience the three-hundred-thousand-and-growing followers of Minty Fresh Adventures want to hear about.

Writing in my head since I am currently paralyzed with pleasure…

The swanky Aura Spa at Serenity Bali promises enlightenment through their signature massage. What they actually deliver is better, if that’s possible—ninety minutes of guilt-free nirvana for the price of a car payment. Pro tip… skip the pre-treatment meditation session—fifteen minutes of a stranger chanting about your chakras isn't nearly as transformative as the brochure makes it sound. Unless that’s your thing, in which case, go for it.

My phone buzzes. Again. For the fifth time. In ten minutes.

Yes, I am working. Yes, I am technically “on the clock.” Yes, I am getting this massage “on the house,” orfree, as most people would say. But damn, can’t I have a few minutes of peace to enjoy the over-the-top benefits of being the brain behind the Minty Fresh travel blog?

"Miss Minty?” My massage therapist's hands pause between my shoulder blades, exactly where the tension from my last deadline—no, the last ten years of my life—lives. "Your phone, Miss Minty. Miss Minty? Alexa?” she says as if I might have expired with pleasure.

If only.

The woman, whose name tag says "Made"—pronounced MAH-day, as she patiently explained—sighs in the way people do when they're mentally calculating if their work is worth a pain-in-the ass client.

Like me.

I continue writing in my head.

While the resort presents itself as a sanctuary of silence, the true tranquility comes from its strictly enforced adults-only policy. No sticky fingers, no random screaming, and absolutely no Baby Shark on repeat at the infinity pool. At Serenity Bali, paradise isn't found in overpriced meditation cushions, not for me anyway. For most, myself included, it's the blessed absence of children.

My phone vibrates for the sixth time. Yes, I should have turned the damn thing completely off, but it doesn’t really matter because I’m not moving from this massage table unless the place is burning down and I have no choice but to get off my ass.

"Perhaps you would like to—" Made starts to say.

"If that's Ryan, tell him I've taken a vow of silence," I mumble about my persistent editor, just as the phone vibrates again. "Even better, tell him I've been eaten by a temple monkey. He'd totally buy that—I sent him that viral video of a monkey stealing a bag of sticky rice from a street vendor."

Made's hands hover over me as if I offended her by joking about temple monkeys. "The spirits suggest—" she starts to say.

"The spirits need to have a word with my editor about boundaries." I crack one eye open. "But fine. Could you hand me my phone, please? It's probably nothing more than another scolding for using too many commas."

Made brings my phone and turns away for privacy.

Classy. I’m giving this place a killer write-up.

I reluctantly push up on one elbow to see I’ve not only missed calls but also texts that escalate from mildly annoying to bordering on unhinged.

Answer your damn phone

This is actually important

ALEXA I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE IGNORING ME TO POST ANOTHER SUNSET PIC

I text back one-handed, trying not to abandon my happy place.

*Unless someone died or my book deal finally came through, I'm busy aligning my chakras. Very spiritual stuff. Can't talk. #blessed

I knew that would set him off. Sometimes I just can’t help myself.

Naturally, his response is immediate:

*Your chakras can wait. This is career-changing.

Well, shit.

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