Page 10 of Last Second Chance

“Someone sent me...this?”

I felt like I was being spoiled just by being here, and now I was getting some kind of gift. Maybe it wouldn’t have seemed so perplexing if the lights in the hallway weren’t so bright.

I could feel my heartbeat in my head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I wanted to cringe at his word choice, but instead, I took the gift basket and closed the door. Walking to my little kitchenette, I started some coffee brewing before taking a seat and rummaging through the basket.

I finally found a card and opened it to read the personal note scrawled inside.

Thought you might need this hangover basket to get you through your day. Hope you had fun last night.

Love, Scott

Love? Really?

I tried not to linger on that word as I put the card aside and started pulling stuff out. He really did include anything I would need for a hangover. Over-the-counter medications Ibuprofen and Pepto Bismol and bottled water were the first things I pulled out. I immediately took a couple of the pain relievers, drinking half the bottle of water to help soothe my parched throat.

Next, there was an under-eye mask and eye drops. Once again, I stopped what I was doing and opened the eye drops. After I used them, I could actually see clearly again.

Scott had really put thought into this, and I couldn’t deny that I touched. Cheater or not, it seemed that he could still be thoughtful. I wished that wasn’t the case. I wanted him to make it easier to hate him.

There was one more thing in the basket and when I pulled it out, a hollow ache formed in the center of my chest.

Most people wouldn’t think much of his addition of a single granola bar to the basket, but it was personal for me. It reminded me of a better time, back when we were happy together.

It was New Year’s Day a few months before our breakup. We’d gone out the night before to a party and just like now, I’d gotten wine drunk. But I’d gone even more overboard that time, and my stomach paid the price. I was nauseous all day long. Scott had insisted that I needed to eat something. He kept telling me it would help to have something in my stomach, but I rejected everything he came up with. Nothing sounded good to me.

Then, he offered me a granola bar, and I gave in.

It was silly really, an insignificant moment among many for us. Except that was the day I realized I loved him. I didn’t tell him until weeks later, but it was that New Year’s Day that I saw just how caring he was. He’d been so insistent with me because he wanted to take care of me.

And here he was, doing that again.

He’d put this basket together himself, putting thought into it for no reason other than he wanted to look after me. It should have been a great romantic gesture that made me feel special.

But instead, I was sad.

Why did he have to act so wonderful and make all of this harder for me? I didn’t want to remember the good times. I didn’t want to feel like he cared about me.

The man had broken my heart. I couldn’t let myself forget that.

Putting the granola bar back in the basket, I piled everything else on top of it and got up, heading for the shower.

I hadno plans for the day, which was my ideal vacation scenario. I didn’t like to stuff every minute of my vacation with activities. Sometimes, a woman just needed to relax.

So, I went to the beach. Miles of sandy shoreline stretched out in both directions from the hotel, and it was all full of people. I managed to find an unoccupied spot and planted my butt in the sand. The stuff got into my shorts a little, but I didn’t really care. Bringing my knees up, I wrapped my arms around them and took some deep breaths.

The breeze coming in off the water made my bangs tickle my forehead, and the sun shining brightly overhead warmed my skin. There were conversations happening all around me, but they were just a blur of white noise, indistinct aside from the occasional sound of laughter or a child’s delighted shriek.

I was feeling much better, and I knew that it had a lot to do with the hangover basket that Scott had sent me. By the time I’d gotten out of the shower earlier, the Ibuprofen had kicked in, dulling the headache. I finished off the water he sent and tried the under-eye mask. It took away my puffiness, and I felt human again.

I knew that I’d have to thank him, no matter how much I didn’t want to talk to him at all.

As I sat on the beach, my eyes landed on an old man walking along, using a metal detector. It hovered just above the sand while he ran it back and forth. He was wearing a fisherman’s hat and khaki shorts with a plaid shirt. I found myself wondering about him. Was he a local or a tourist? Had he ever found anything good under the sand or was this just a hobby that didn’t really yield results?

I was so caught up thinking about this guy that I didn’t notice Scott had found me until he sat in the sand at my side.

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