Page 2 of From Maybe to Baby

I look around the spa, wondering if the resort is pulling the plug on me. Sending me home. I wonder what I did? Order one too many cocktails at the club last night?

"Take five minutes?" I smile apologetically at Made, who's far too professional to roll her eyes but I can see definitely wants to.

I wrap myself in a robe that probably costs more than what most people spend on clothing in a year, and step onto a private terrace. The infinity pool stretches out below me, appearing to spill directly into the Indian Ocean, while palm trees frame the view like nature's own Instagram filter.

I hit Ryan's number, already mourning my interrupted massage.

"This better be good,” I sigh when he picks up. “I'm missing the massage of a lifetime, and my shoulders still have PTSD from that economy flight to Singapore last month, Ryan."

He ignores my snark like he always does. "How's adult-only paradise?" he asks, suspiciously chipper. In five years of working together, I've learned that he only sounds chipper when he's about to ruin my life.

"Why?”

"Well—"

"Ryan." I grip the terrace railing, watching a honeymooning couple take selfies by the pool. They're doing that annoying thing where they pretend to laugh candidly while perfectly positioned for optimal lighting. Gag. "Why do I feel like I'm about to hate whatever comes next?"

"Because you're paranoid and cynical?"

"It's not paranoia if you actually are out to get me. Which I know you are. Spill."

He clears his throat. "How do you feel about expanding your brand?"

Oh.

He had me atbrand. Sort of.

"I've already expanded, Ryan. Last year, I added luxury spas to my adventure travel niche. And look at me now, suffering through another massage for our readers. I'm practically a martyr to the cause.That’swhat I call a brand extension.”

"Right, well, think... bigger. Or actually, smaller. Much smaller. Like, chicken-nugget-sized smaller."

"Um, what? Chicken nuggets? You want me to do a story on McDonald’s? No thank you. In fact, if you insist, I'm hanging up and blaming it on bad WiFi."

"Don't you hang up, Alexa?—"

"Oh no...kssshhhh... can't hear you Ryan...kssshhhh... I’m losing my signal, you know how cell coverage is in this part of the world..."

"ALEXA."

Crap. That’s his ‘warning tone.’ I drop the act.

"Fine. But I'm billing you for the rest of my massage. And my therapy bills after whatever you're about to tell me."

“You’re not paying for the massage, Alexa. Remember, it’s free?”

“On the houseis how I prefer to say it.”

“Whatever.” He continues talking, and as he does, I watch my carefully curated life begin to disintegrate around me.

Somehow, I know this is my last moment of true peace for a while. I should have ordered two massages.

Three hoursand two emergency cocktails later, I'm stalking the infinity pool like a location scout, cell phone in hand, desperate to shake off my conversation with Ryan. The sun hits the water at the perfect angle, turning it to glittering sapphires. My coconut mojito sits on the edge of it, umbrella positioned justso, condensation artfully dripping down the glass. It's the kind of shot that built my following—aspirational enough to make corporate drones dream of quitting their jobs, but luxurious enough for them to realize they need to keep working in order to afford stuff this like this.

I snap thirty identical photos before finding The One. Perfect lighting, perfect composition, perfect illusion, like I just happened to be lounging here looking fabulous instead of working three different angles until I was satisfied. The reality of being a travel influencer is way less glamorous than my Insta suggests, but nobody follows Minty Fresh Adventures for reality.

I give my followers one of the momentary distractions they come to me for:

Finding my peace in Bali, where the only sound is the ocean. Sometimes peace comes with a view... and a drink umbrella. #MintyfreshAdventures #LuxuryTravel #UnderForty #NoKidsAllowed

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