Page 1 of Starting Back
ONE
KRISTINA
“Welcome to Turtle Bay!”
I pushed a smile across my lips in a feeble attempt to mimic the cheerful greeting from the resort clerk.
“Thank you,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster while I tried to keep hold of my carry-on bag and suitcase behind me.
“What is your name?”
I dropped the carry-on at my feet when she turned to her computer screen.
“Kristina Webber. But the reservation may be under my friend’s name, Nicole Kent.”
“Ah yes, you have the suite. And it looks like you have an upgrade?”
“We do? I mean, I do?”
What could be an upgrade from a two-bedroom suite I had to stay in alone?
“A complimentary couple’s massage was added.”
Guilt twisted my stomach at her elated expression, and to be this upset over disappointing a stranger spoke to the problems that followed me from New York.
“I don’t think Nicole booked a couple’s vacation, but I could be wrong. We’re not—”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She waved a hand, her blue fingernails racing over the keys. “No one will ask if you’re an actual couple.”
“Well, that’s nice, but onlyI’llbe in the suite for the next few days. I think Nicole said she called ahead to note that. But, hey, if they can give me two massages, I can go twice,” I joked, but as her lips twisted at the screen in response, I guessed I wasn’t that funny.
All I wanted to do was change into my bathing suit and find some frosty cocktails, anything that would make me forget that I was at this gorgeous resort in the Florida Keys alone, or keep me from panicking over what the hell I was supposed to do with all that time to myself.
“Yes, she did call ahead to put the suite in your name. So sorry about that, Ms. Webber.”
I nodded, leaning against the counter as I took in all the groups of friends and couples around me. The lobby was crowded, but the impending loneliness was already palpable.
“Can I help you with your bags, miss?”
One of the resort workers, a young man who could almost pass for my high school junior nephew’s age, motioned to the large pink bag at my feet.
“Thank you so much,” I said, a real smile stretching across my lips at his use ofmiss, notma’am. “I just need to get my room key.”
“Here you go. One and a spare.” The desk clerk handed me two white keycards. “Have a wonderful stay and let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” I took the keycards from her hand and leaned in to peek at her name tag. “Nancy.”
I was too embarrassed to follow up on a substitute for the couple’s massage and trailed behind the resort worker down the long path to my suite. I turned my head at every splash and laugh, and I needed to snap out of this mood if I was going to make the most of this solo vacation.
“Here you are. Enjoy.”
I gave him a nice tip after he opened the door and set down my bags. Despite how tempted I was to just nap under the covers, I tore through my suitcase for my bathing suit and cover-up and changed before I called Nicole.
She’d requested a phone call the minute I checked in for me to report back on the room—and probably for her to apologize ten more times.
“I’m so sorry,” Nicole sniffled over the speakerphone. “I wanted to go on this trip with you so badly.” She lost her words to a hacking cough.
“I know that, but you couldn’t travel with a hundred and three fever, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to.” I sighed and plopped down onto one of the beds in our—my—suite, smoothing my hand over the plush white comforter. “Please stop apologizing. I just want you to rest and feel better.”
