Page 19 of Thin Ice

Yay! I’m so glad.

ME:

Good news, too. Noah found the gym.

I look at the last text before I send it then decide to delete it. Stevie doesn’t need to know that we’re already failing before the retreat even starts. I retype a new text.

ME:

Going to the pool now. Day 1 starts tomorrow.

STEVIE:

Enjoy the sunshine with your man before the real work starts.

ME:

I’ll try.

I delete my last message before sending it and type a simple kissy-face smiley emoji. I send it then silence and plug in my phone on the bedside charger, deciding to leave it in the bungalow. If I take it with me, I know I’ll be tempted to text Stevie the truth once I have a few drinks in me. Which I plan to suck down if they’re available.

I grab the pool bag I filled with everything I need and place my sunglasses atop my head. Stopping in front of the arched, floor-length standing mirror to the side of the bed, I look myself over. My tall, voluptuous frame and sullen eyes stare back at me.

If I allowed myself to cry, I have no doubt my eyes would be red and my face swollen. Instead, I just look…sad. After Noah walked out, I screamed into a pillow then put away my anger and disappointment at him leaving.

I placed the partially filled out and wrinkled intake form on his pillow along with a pen. I didn’t leave a note or threaten him to finish it, because he’s smart enough to know what this means. If he wants to be here, if he really meant what he said yesterday—that he’d do anything to fix us—then he’ll fill it out. If not, I guess I’ll have my answer. But I’m not going to be someone who forces him to do this.

I clench my jaw and smooth my hands down my outfit. It’s not often I get to wear a cute swimsuit or coverups. The vacations Noah and I have taken in the past hardly call for this attire. Over half my closet is work clothes—black pants and black shirts with the team’s logo on it—and most of the remainder is winter gear and warm clothing. I had to dig to find the summer dresses, shorts, and swimsuits I’ve collected over the years on clearance, like this one I’m wearing.

My bright yellow bikini has sticky waterproof bra cups to hold my big girls up and high-waisted bottoms that show just the right amount of ass cheek. As a cover-up, I chose a yellow linen dress with short puffed sleeves that ties together at my boobs and has a cut-out on the tummy, the hem hitting just below my knee. My wavy pink hair is down, and I applied a light bit of makeup over my layer of sunscreen.

I look good, and I can’t wait to feel the sun on my skin and soak up the vitamin D. Seattle might have milder winters than a lot of places, but it’s cold and wet. Not to mention, I spend my workdays inside arenas and lots of time in my home office editing photos.

I slip my wide-framed sunglasses down over my eyes and put on my sandals before heading out toward the main pool area Hazel showed us earlier complete with loungers, a bar area, and poolside service outside of retreat hours.

This place is bigger than I expected it to be, and all of the bungalows are fairly spaced out for privacy. Ours is the nicest and most private, meaning it was the most expensive. I didn’t have a choice since it was the only spot available, but I’m not complaining. I like that it has a private plunge pool and hot tub. Hopefully, Noah and I will actually use it this week, not just stare at it.

Distant, lacking connection, and boring.

The words I used to describe our sexual connection haunt me as the pool comes into view. Noah was going to hear my truth eventually; I just didn’t plan for it to come out so soon nor in the manner it did. But he was making me so mad, and I didn’t want to lie. He needed to hear what I thought, why this retreat is the place for us.

Laughter reaches my ears as I get closer to the pool, and for a moment, I debate going back to the bungalow and using the private area instead. I’m good at making friends and like being around people at work, but this is entirely new territory. Hazel told us we were the last couple to arrive, and I have no doubt the couples around the pool will stare at me when I come into view. I would have loved for Noah to be with me, to be holding my hand.

I push my shoulders back and hike my bag up my shoulder. I’m a big girl. I do things all the time without my husband, especially in the last year since he joined the first line of the Stormbreakers. Even before then, if I’m honest with myself.

I round the corner, past the sliding door of a poolside bungalow and a leafy tree in a large clay pot, and slam right into a broad chest. I yelp as I’m shoved backward by the force of the hit. It’s not enough to make me fall on my ass, but I’m thrown off-balance.

Big, warm hands grab my forearms, and I’m righted quickly, my equilibrium restored.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay, Miss?”

Miss. Much better than ma’am.

“I’m fine…” The end of my word trails off when I meet the eyes attached to the chest I ran into and see irises the shade of russet brown framed by long, dark eyelashes and thick brows. He blinks, eyes crinkling at the corner in a smile.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He drops his hands away, and I shiver at the loss of the steady warmth. Funny, since it’s hot out, and even in the minute I’ve been walking outside, my skin is already dewy from the heat.

I continue to stare, grateful my sunglasses remain over my eyes. This man is gorgeous. Different in many ways from Noah with his shoulder-length dark-brown hair he has tied back in a half pony, a thick beard trimmed just past his chin, and a small silver hoop earring in his left ear. He’s also tall, at least seven inches above me, his chest barreled and shoulders broad along with a soft stomach and big thighs.