Page 50 of Paradise Pride

“I guess I can take this off again.” Florence removed her polo shirt, sat on the bed with a huff and turned her back to Meghan. Meghan reached out to touch her shoulder, but she shook her off. “Don’t. I know you have to do what you have to do, but I just want to be alone.”

“Please, Florence. Don’t be like this. Not now.”

“Not now?” Florence’s expression was cold as she turned to her. “What does it matter? You’re going back, and I’ll never hear from you again. That’s the truth.”

“But I—”

“No,” she continued, her voice unsteady. “I’m going to sleep. You can wait on the balcony until your boyfriend arrives.”

Meghan cried as she put on her dress and her sandals and gathered her things. She stuffed them into her big handbag and looked over her shoulder before she left the room, but Florence had buried herself under the covers and was shaking as if she was crying. She felt awful for causing her pain with her insecurity and indecisiveness. She’d been selfish; she should have anticipated how bad this moment would be, for both of them, and she wasn’t surprised that Tiger interrupting their goodbye was the final straw for Florence.

“Bye,” she said, her voice catching. When she got no reply, she left and closed the door behind her. Descending the stairs on shaking legs, she met a very drunk Manuel on his way up.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice was slurred, but he frowned when he saw she was in tears.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Meghan sniffed as she pushed past him and rushed down. “Take care of Florence, will you?”

“Why? What’s going on?”

Desperate to get outside, she didn’t answer, and finally reaching street level, she gasped for air and sank down on the pavement with her back against the door. A stripper from the club opposite, who was smoking outside, was watching her, and so was the bouncer. They probably assumed she was drunk, just like Kim would assume she was crying because she didn’t want to leave Tiger.

It was all so messed up. Her life had turned into a complete and utter lie. Her best friend knew nothing about her, and she didn’t understand that much more about herself other than the pain she felt. The pain of leaving Florence, and the pain of hurting Florence was very, very real.

Tiger’s arrival brought her some relief at least. He was the only one who knew the truth apart from Florence, and he’d shown her such kindness. He didn’t ask questions. He took her bag, helped her up and hooked his arm through hers.

“Let’s do this,” he said. “Everything will be okay.”

50

Florence

“She’s gone,” Florence said to Manuel when he came into her bedroom. “Go away. I can smell the beer on your breath from here, and I want to be alone.” He’d knocked a few times and clearly decided it was okay to let himself in, even though she’d put the damaged ‘do not disturb’ sign she’d taken from the hotel on her door.

“Meghan was crying,” he said.

“I know.” Florence pulled the covers further over her head. “And I don’t care.”

“Of course you care. You’re in love with her, and you’re a mess yourself. Look at you.”

“Cut the crap, Manuel. You can’t even see me. Please just go away.”

Manuel didn’t take no for an answer and pulled the covers away from her face. Leaning over her and almost making her gag with his alcohol breath, he studied her red cheeks with his bloodshot eyes. “I’m going to make myself a strong coffee and sober up,” he said, “and then we’re going to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. And who do you suddenly think you are? Oprah or something?”

“Joke all you want about Oprah. She’s right most of the time, and yes, I’ll admit it. I watch daytime TV when you’re not here. Talking will help, I promise. I’ll get you a beer, and I’ll have coffee, and in twenty minutes we’ll be able to level. How’s that?”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Florence was sitting on ‘Oprah’s couch’, crying her eyes out. “And then Tiger called, and he picked her up instead,” she said, finishing her story with a sniff.

“So, Tiger took her back to Paradise.” Manuel nodded and dropped a pause.

It was incredible how he had indeed managed to sober up after a large protein shake, a coffee and two bottles of water, Florence thought as she sipped her beer. Perhaps it wasn’t all selfless on his behalf—she suspected he regretted ruining his training routine and macros because he’d planned a weightlifting session tomorrow morning—but it was still sweet and endearing of him to take the time to calm her down.

“And that’s it?” he asked. “You’re not going to see each other after this?”

“No. That’s it. She can’t commit.” Florence shrugged. “Anyway, it’s probably for the best. I wouldn’t want to get my hopes up for someone who will never really be mine.”

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