Page 35 of Second Chance Vacation

Savannah bombarded us the moment we woke up with the news that she hadn’t just booked massages for each of us but had booked us a couples massage. What concerns me even more is that I’m pretty sure she booked this before the trip started—meaning she was so convinced I would hit it off with a stranger that she was willing to gamble my sanity.

My gaze finally drifts from Savannah, looking up at the sign,La Beauté de Printemps,painted in a black script against the vintage building. The building is dated, but much like a lot of businesses in the area, it is updated inside. As we enter, the sound of water rushing onto rock fills my ears. A beautiful waterfall display fills the expansive wall across from the check-in desk.

Savannah walks ahead toward the front desk, engaging with the young woman in French. I look up at Jackson with a pleading look, begging him to convince Savannah to call this charade off. As much as the idea of a massage sounds incredible, the idea of getting pretty much naked with Jackson in the room has my face flushed. I’m pretty sure he can tell by the faintest smile on his lips.

He leans in, his lips barely skating past my ear. “It’ll be fine. Breathe.”

I’m unsure of why I listen, but I let out a slow exhale, desperate to cling to a semblance of calm.

Surprisingly, it helps.

We are ushered to the opposite side of the spa than Wes and Savannah are at.

Drapery of white linens frames a view of the coast. The wind flowing through the window pebbles my skin, causing me to shiver despite the warm weather. Ambience music fills the room, mixing with the waves crashing along the shore. Saltwater mixed with eucalyptus fills the air. Despite this, my heart continues to hammer, pulling a thudding pain to creep up the back of my neck.

“Breathe,” Jackson says from behind me, forcing me to reckon with the fact that we are alone.

“I’m fine.” I let out an exacerbated exhale.

“I can hear your mind racing from here—”

“Hello, lovebirds!” a peppy voice travels from behind Jackson. I turn my head to find a petite blonde entering the room with towels in hand. “My name is Colette, and I will be your massage instructor today. I will be walking you each through massage techniques to massage one another, allowing you to learn how to tackle each other’s problem areas and help one another to relax.”

You have got to be kidding me.

“So we’re going to be performing the massage,” Jackson clears his throat, “on each other?”

“That is correct.”

The blood drains from my face as my eyes dart to Jackson, whose attention is still on Colette.

“You look stressed.” She grins, making eye contact with me. “We’ll start with you.”

Fuck.

The eye contact drags on for what feels like hours.

“So—um,” she breaks the silence, “please strip down to just your underwear. If you keep your bra on, it will get in the way. When you’re ready, get under the blanket on the table face down.”

She exits in record time.

As the door clicks shut, my eyes dart to Jackson. His expression is much more relaxed than my own.

“If at any point you’re uncomfortable—just say red. I’ll stop, and we can get a cab back to the house.”

A gulp lodges in my throat as I go to speak, only meeting him with a nod. He shifts his attention as he clears his throat. “I’ll look out the window while you change. Just let me know when you’re good.”

I face Jackson’s back within moments, being granted the smallest semblance of privacy. The blood rushes to my face, painting my face and chest in a stinging red hue. He has seen me naked before, but it’s been years. I look different. I feel different. Where once laid toned expanses of skin are soft expanses of stretch marks. I don’t hate my body, but the knowledge that he may be disappointed in the changes makes my heart sink. Struggling to undo the clasp, my locket falls to the ground, popping open in the process, revealing a picture of my mom and me when I was little. The idea of thinking about that right now sends my stomach into knots. I kick it underneath my T-shirt on the floor.

My clothes are balled into a pile in the corner of the room as I slip below the small scrap of blanket on the table. The blanket starts just below my hip dip and ends mid-thigh, leaving the top of my back entirely exposed. I try my best to contain my breasts, but despite my efforts, I am left with more than a bit of side boob.

“I’m…good.” I don’t even believe myself. My gaze is fixed on him as he turns around, pausing as his vision meets mine. A gulp rolls down his throat in what feels like slow motion. His eyes scan me laying on the table.

What is he thinking about?

Knock. Knock.

“Are you all set up, Genevieve?”

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