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Chapter One
Zoe
I don't care that it's only nine in the morning - I need a drink.
But instead of motivating myself to get up and tiptoe through the rented cabin without waking my friends and make my way to one of the many bars on this cruise ship, I stare at Jake’s message as my heart squeezes.
It didn't mean anything, you have to believe me.
Joke’s on you, Jake; I don't have to do shit. And I certainly don't have to do anything that you tell me to do anymore, not ever again. You lost the privilege of dictating my actions when you decided to sleep with your secretary.
And for the record, if he can tell me sleeping with her meant nothing, then what does that mean for our relationship if that “nothing” was worth ruining us?
I slip out of bed and take a quick glance around the room at my friends who are all still sleeping peacefully, likely because we all had a few too many drinks last night before bed. Amy’s blonde hair is still up in a messy bun from the night before as she curls under the blankets in her bed. She’s curled in a fetal position wrapped tightly in her blanket.
In contrast, Cassie's red hair is loose and flowing, and she's sprawled out like a cheerleader pretending to be all the letters at a pep rally across her bed. From here I can even see the puddle of drool on her bed and hear her light snoring as she sleeps, and a slight smile creeps across my lips.
Over in the corner bed, Ben sleeps peacefully, and I remember how he’d asked to come with us to get away from his ex-wife, who has been making his life a living hell. He’s one of the few men in my life I consider safe - not only has he never tried to hit on any of us, he's also gone so far as to pretend to be our dates to get us out of awkward, uncomfortable situations where other men refused to take no for an answer. He’s a good guy, but there’s zero romantic feelings between him and any of us, and he’s a great friend. I feel for him; his ex is a nightmare.
I know that I could wake any one of them up and take them with me for a drink, but I want to let them sleep, and I need some time alone to process everything Jake is making me feel. This is supposed to be my vacation, a chance to get away from life and everything he's done to me. But he won't stop inserting himself directly into the middle of everything I do.
It’s infuriating. I'm on vacation, damn it. I deserve to relax and have some fun.
And honestly, I don't think I've ever wanted to hurt someone before, but if Jake were right here... I’d likely kick him in the dangly bits.
I slip into the bathroom and quickly straighten up my hair, splash cold water on my face, and give myself a once-over in the mirror. I'm still wearing my cute black, sunflower-covered sun dress from yesterday, but at this point in time, I don't care. Nothing is going to stand between me and a breakfast of mimosas, not my clothing, not Jake’s words, not the fact that I’m still dressed in yesterday’s outfit. Nobody's going to notice me, anyway - they’re all here for their vacations too.
My phone vibrates and I glance down at the screen. Zoe, talk to me. Let me explain.
I let out a soft snort. How exactly is he going to explain away sleeping with his secretary? What words in what possible order could he say to make me feel better about any of that? Does he really think that there’s some excuse he can make that will make me okay with him cheating on me?
Because there is not. I’m worth more than that. I didn’t deserve to be cheated on. And he’s a dog for doing something so ugly, so callous, so awful to me when all I did was love him with my whole heart.
I sneak out of the bathroom and make my way to the front door of the cabin with his words still ringing in my ear as if he’d said them face to face; Zoe, talk to me. Let me explain.
No, I don't think I will.
I know he wishes we could go back in time before I found out, he wishes that he could just hide his gross cheating a little bit better so that I'd never learn the truth, and I know he wishes that everything could go back to the way it was before I learned what he was up to. But that’s just not going to happen.
And no, I'm not going to forgive him or take him back. As I walk down the long hallway with cabin doors on either side of me, I hold my head high and let a small smile cross my lips. I'm done with him, and this morning over my favorite drink, I'm going to block his number, block him on every social media platform, and blast the truth to the world.
Well, maybe I'll blast the truth to the world first, tag him in every post, wait for him to freak out and demand I stop ruining his life by telling the truth about what he did, then block him.
Yeah, I'm a little bit salty about what he did, and I want him to suffer. I mean, I don't want him to suffer unfairly. I just want him to face the consequences of his bad actions and poor judgment. He deserves that at least, doesn't he? Besides, I need to warn the rest of the world before he does this to the next woman he claims to love.
I make my way into a little restaurant and walk over to the bar. The bartender. A pretty, petite, blonde little thing that would be exactly Jake's type, smiles and asks what she can get me.
“A mimosa, please,” I say sweetly, hearing Jake’s chastising voice in my head telling me the drink will make me fat and internally mock him. The dude rocks a dad bod, has no kids, and tells me how I should eat to stay thin. No hate to dad bods, of course - I just think he has no room to tell me what to do and how to take care of myself when he couldn’t give two shits what I think about his appearance. This is a man I had to remind to brush his teeth every night - he surely wasn’t one to give advice on self-care.
“Coming right up,” she says with a smile, before holding up her index finger in a universal gesture asking for one moment, “after you show me your ID.”
“Are you hitting on me?” I ask, hearing how awkward I sound as she lifts her eyebrows. I let out a breathy laugh. “Sorry, I just spilt up with my cheating boyfriend and I guess I’m rusty.” I pull my ID from my pocket and hand it over as she smiles.
“I’m sorry you went through that.” She hands back my ID. “Let me get that drink for you.”
I nod, feeling silly as I sit, wringing my fingers at the bar and cringing internally at my stupid comment. She's just here doing her job; she doesn't need me to harass her, and I’m not into women, anyway - what if she had been hitting on me and responded in kind? What would I have done then? Probably awkwardly laughed it off and made us both uncomfortable.
Trying not to die of embarrassment, I look around the restaurant and notice it's mostly empty. I have no doubt that most people are still sleeping or enjoying the various activities on board, or even the buffet that serves an amazing breakfast... but no booze.
