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“Okay, then. I think your Bubble-Blowing Breakfast…Boy sounds like the answer to your broken heart. A littlevacation flirtationis just what you need. Go for it, Marin. If anything, it’ll help you get your confidence back.”

I blow off Kira’s encouragement, knowing I’m not ready for any type of romance in my life. “I’m simply allowing myself to notice him because it makes me feel good. That’s all. End of story. Done deal.”

“You know what they say about the lady that doth protest too much,” Kira teases.

“He just…gives me something else to think about besides Blu. Know what I mean?” Thinking about Slade is my ticket to freedom from Blu. Slade will never know the service he provided.

“I do. Whatever makes you happy. You deserve it. Remember that, okay?” Kira reminds me. “Gotta get back to work. Love ya. Talk later.”

I make my way downstairs, sit at the cluster of tables in the dining room, and enjoy Slade’s breakfast skills. Spinach-bacon quiche is the highlight, amid an array of other choices on a beautiful breakfast buffet. The man is a genius in the kitchen.

But now I can’t look at Slade without thinking of him as the Bubble-Blowing Breakfast Boy. I wish Kira hadn’t put the thought in my head.

It doesn’t do Slade justice. I held back when telling Kira about his looks. The weird thing is, Slade’s looks are not what made me notice him.

That’s a lie. I noticed his looks immediately. It’s the man on the inside that set off my radar, though. If first impressions are correct, he seems like an amazing, thoughtful man. For obvious reasons, a good, honest man appeals to me. You know, the kind of man who would never leave his girl at the altar.

Still, I didn’t mention the words Slade and gorgeous in the same sentence while talking to Kira. Nor did I mention the places my crazy imagination has taken me to. My thoughts wandered while being stuck in my room for three days. And because I wanted to forget about Blu, I’d let my thoughts go wherever they wanted.

Okay, I admit it.

I’ve been fantasizing about Slade. It was better than crying over Blu.

Though, while talking to Kira, I didn’t say a word about Slade’s dark brown hair, kept short and no-nonsense, or about my desire to run my fingers through it.

I didn’t tell her about the sexy stubble he keeps neatly groomed. Or his dark brown eyes. They’re almost black and a girl could easily get lost in them.

I didn’t once say a word about his flawless skin. I didn’t mention I’ve dreamed of running my fingertips over every inch.

I didn’t tell her he’s tall, at least six-foot-two, and has long muscular legs. I didn’t mention his quick wit. Or how he somehow manages to make me laugh—or want to laugh—in spite of my circumstances. And I most certainly didn’t mention his deep voice. In my dreams, it makes me melt inside. Like I’m a puddle on the floor.

Hmmmm. Did I know I felt all of these things about Slade? Maybe on a subconscious level. I’m brokenhearted, not dead. Or blind.

Regardless, I know if I told Kira any of these juicy details, she’d be planning my next wedding by now.

I’m not ready for that. She has good intentions and only wants the best for me, but avacation flirtationis not for me. I’m at thelook, don’t touchstage. Thelet my thoughts wander, but don’t show my feelingsstage. That’s all I need right now. A little something to boost my mood and remind me there are more—and better—men in the world than Blu. Something to remind me life isn’t over and I can feel again.

If noticing Slade helps me recover, he’s my new hospital.

But that’s as far as it goes. I mean, I hardly know the man. I wonder what he’s like in real life…

“Excuse me, how are you, sweetheart?”

I’m taken out of my reverie as I look up at the older couple sitting at the table next to me. I’m so deep into me, myself, and I, I hardly noticed the people around me.

The older lady says, “Are you feeling better now? We’re so sorry about your wedding. We saw you in your beautiful wedding dress when you arrived. I think your tears broke all of our hearts. The walls are a bit thin here, you know?”

I paste a fake smile on my face. “So I’ve heard.”

Can I climb under a rock now? I was oblivious to people around me when I arrived. Their sympathetic faces stare at me as though no one else in the room exists.

“We’ve been so worried about you, dear. We’re the Robertsons. I’m Martha, and this is my husband, Ernest.”

“Nice to meet you.” I’m a liar. I don’t feel like meeting or talking to anyone.

“You know what? Your young man made a very bad decision. He’ll regret it. I’d venture to say he’ll be back, begging for a second chance. Don’t give it to him, though. He doesn’t deserve it.” Martha tsks a few times.

Fat chance. He’s hiding in Cancun, incommunicado.

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