“Really. Go.”
He grinned and squeezed my shoulder affectionately.
I felt nothing.
The resort was beautiful.
There were palm trees everywhere, a lobby that smelled like coconut, and welcome drinks for the children served in plastic pineapple cups.
The kids were thrilled.
Mark immediately dropped onto the king-sized bed, shoes still on.
“God, I needed this.”
I unpacked our suitcases.
Of course I did.
That night, after the children had fallen asleep, I sat with the printed itinerary resting on my knees.
Dolphin tour.
Family seafood dinner.
Sunset boat ride.
All the things I had planned for five people.
Mark was already snoring beside me.
I quietly closed the binder.
The following morning, Mark kissed the children while they slept, picked up his duffel bag, and grabbed the rental car keys.
“I’ll be back Thursday. Have fun, babe.”
“You too.”
He hesitated by the door as though he might say something meaningful.
He didn’t.
The door closed behind him.
I walked onto the balcony and watched his car disappear.
Then I took out my phone.
For a second, I considered calling my sister Linda.
She was always the person I called when I needed reassurance.
But this time, I didn’t need reassurance.
I needed to make a decision.
Three years earlier, I had seen a small resort in the Florida Keys in a travel magazine.
Pastel cottages.
Turquoise water.
Wooden docks.
Quiet beaches.
I had mentioned it to Mark twice.
Both times, he dismissed it.
Too expensive.
Too fancy.
Not his kind of place.
I called anyway.
A woman answered.
“We actually have a cottage available, ma’am. When were you hoping to arrive?”
“Today.”
Then I canceled the remaining nights at our current resort.
There was a change fee.
I paid it without hesitation.
Then I woke the children.
“Guys, change of plans.”
Max sat up sleepily.
“What’s happening?”
“We’re packing.”
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