Chapter Twenty Five
The pictures online did nothing to showcase the beauty of this suite, Jennie thought as she settled against the California king bed and stretched out. The bed was in the center of the room and three of the walls that surrounded her were panoramic folding glass doors that led to two separate private patios, one for dining and one for bathing in a luxurious steel bathtub or under an outdoor rain showerhead. And the doors at the foot of the bed led to a private and exclusive portion of beach just for her. The Hotel Mooremont did not disappoint in its luxuriousness.
This was the most expensive room in the entire hotel, and she had saved for months to get it. And while the weather had been perfect and the accommodations unmatched by anything she had experienced in her life, she wasn't quite happy here. It wasn't the staff—it was her. Once she'd told them she wasn't on her honeymoon and that they could lay off with all the daily reminders of that fact, it had been easier to stomach being alone. But still, she had a lot of space to herself and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Mainly because she didn't want to be here alone. She wanted to be here with Lisa.
She couldn't really be disappointed, though, could she? She was the one that left the ship, after all, and Lisa had a job. It wasn't like Lisa could just up and leave with her for a week in paradise. Jennie wasn't even sure that was something Lisa wanted. Their last conversation left her feeling insecure and heartbroken. She knew a good part of that was on her, but knowing that didn't make it hurt any less.
Leaving the ship had been devastating for her, especially because she knew Lisa would find out after the fact. Even though it had been an impossible decision to make, it was the right one, and she knew that. She'd done her best to communicate her feelings to Lisa the night before she departed, and again in that letter she'd entrusted to Enrique. She hoped he'd delivered it to Lisa, and she hoped her message had been received. But she'd heard nothing from her in the time she'd been here. It had been four long days of silence. She didn't dare message her after she'd asked for space, but she was dying a little bit every day, wondering if she was thinking about her. Especially since it seemed Lisa was the only thing she could think about at all.
The quiet had helped her settle her mind a bit, though. She was grateful for the reflection time. She'd finished her work project and met her deadline. She'd caught up on emails and spoken to her grandfather a few times, but mostly she'd had a chance to think about what she wanted in this life. And what she didn't want. She felt a clarity she hadn't felt in a very long time. It was empowering and sobering. Her life would never be the same after that cruise, after this trip. And she was fine with that. Things had to change, and that change had to start with her.
She looked up at the large banana leaf–inspired fan blades that were moving slowly above her, circulating the warm but comfortable Caribbean air. The bed was her favorite part of this suite because she could see everything from it. She could see and hear the ocean from the short walk to her private section of beach just beyond the foot of her bed. Or she could look to her right and admire the beautiful steel bathtub outdoors, made for two, beneath the cover of a few trees and some moveable privacy walls. She'd taken a soak in that tub last night, after she'd opened up the ornate hinged door that led to the beach. She'd luxuriated in the warm bathwater while she looked out at the ocean, the sounds of the island birds and crickets lulling her into a peacefulness she didn't think she'd achieve. But she did. And from this place on the bed, beneath this fan, she felt the stress melt away from her bones again like last night. Her shoulders relaxed and her breathing slowed, and she felt herself falling asleep. She didn't fight it—it was vacation, after all.
She was awoken by a gentle caress on her cheek. She blinked awake to find Lisa there, looking at her lovingly. The initial shock of her being there faded into joy. This was how she always wanted to wake up.
