Page 2 of (Un)Expected

But before I left the beach, there was one more thing I was determined to do. I walked to the other side of the parking lot where a trash bin was waiting. Looking at the phone in my hand, I said one last silent goodbye before removing the SIM card and snapping it in half. Opening the lid, I chucked the broken card and lifeless phone inside.

I stared at the closed bin for a second, trying to see if I made a mistake. Maybe some pang of regret would hit me after throwing away that piece of my old life.

Instead, I felt as I often did.

I felt nothing at all.

ONE

THREE YEARS LATER

“Fuck!”

The sharp word escaped my lips as I slammed on my brakes. I pushed the hair from my eyes as a neon blue Audi whizzed past me, the driver flashing their middle finger as they sped off.Asshole.Sure, it’smyfault he was going 40 miles over the speed limit.

“Alex, you okay?” a voice called out from my phone propped on the dashboard.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, rolling down my window to flip off the other driver. “Debating all my life choices that have led to this moment.”

“So dramatic,” Javier snorted on the other end of the line. “Maybe if you didn’t hit the snooze button fifteen times, you wouldn’t need to rush around every morning.”

“It’s noteverymorning.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. Get here already. The Baroness is already on the warpath, and I haven’t had enough coffee to deal with her bullshit.”

The call cut off without another word.

“Breathe, just breathe….” I mumbled as I tried to fix my face. My pulse still hammered in my chest, but one glance at the clock told me I didn’t have time to wait it out. At least this time, when I inched my car into the street, I remembered to keep an eye out for any speeding tourists.

The one negative about the location of my house?

The damn driveway.

It seemed like a perk to have a house on one of the main roads in town. Should have been convenient, right? It wasn’t like a lot of people lived in my neighborhood, and even fewer kept my intense work schedule.

For nine months out of the year, it was perfect.

“Why the hell are you all still here?” I grumbled under my breath. The tourist season started on Memorial Day and wassupposedto end on Labor Day, which was last week. The influx of strangers that invaded our town every summer should be gone by now, but the ridiculous number of drivers on the road said otherwise.

Finally, there was a break in the flow of traffic, and I shifted my car into drive as quickly as possible.Fifteen minutes.I could make it.

Shit, I better make it.

“Double fuck,” I hissed as I approached the beach. A long line of cars were backed up to the road, blocking traffic on both sides. There was nothing I could do but stare out the window while I waited for them to clear.

On the other side of the road, a new shiny green sign snagged my attention. The town council must have replaced the old one without me noticing. The original was a victim of last summer’s visitors, destroyed by a drunk college kid. The pristine golden letters of Guardian’s Beach reflected the sun’s bright rays, and a pang of nostalgia hit me at its perfection, missing the old, weathered welcome sign.

The same one that directed me to this beach years ago.

The thought instantly pulled me back to those early days, remembering how much time I spent sitting in the sand, contemplating mynext move. Luck seemed to be on my side when the concierge of the largest hotel in town quit days after my arrival.

It turns out that luck had never been my strong suit.

The car behind me loudly honked, breaking me out of my memories. With the line finally cleared, I slammed on the gas, rushing toward the bridge that led to work. After parking my car in the staff lot, I dashed up the path toward the Isadora Resort, the bane of my existence for the past three years.

Looking at the expansive, elegant estate, you’d think it was paradise. Between the lush greenery and pristine architecture, it seemed the definition of luxury, and for the guests, it absolutely was. We busted our asses to guarantee that their every whim was tended to. They wanted for nothing during their stay.

But for the people who worked behind the scenes?

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