Page 79 of We Drank the Dawn

I’ll be just fine, I told myself.

As I walked to the check-in desk, I realized I had never stayed in a hotel by myself before. My parents didn’t let me take trips with friends or travel with the cheer team or anything like that. So all my hotel stays had been with Peter. And he did the honors of checking in while I scoped out the coffee bar, browsed the brochure rack, and surveyed the lounge area.

I lifted my nose into the air and straightened my shoulders to prove that I was, in fact, fine. “Hi, I need to check in.”

“Sure.” An older woman with the nametag Barbara looked up from her computer. “Is it just you?”

“Yes.”

She tapped on her keyboard a few times.

I added, “Is there any way you could put me in a room that isn’t directly by the interstate? I’m a light sleeper.”

She grimaced. “Well, I have some double queen rooms on the first floor and third floor, but I’ll be honest with you, honey; we have a huge volleyball tournament happening over at the sports center and I’ve got about seven teams booked in this hotel. If you’re a light sleeper, the only rooms I can truly recommend on a night like tonight are the whirlpool suites on the sixth floor.”

A few minutes later, I found myself in room 612, which Barbara graciously allowed me to book at a standard room price. It was spacious and clean with crisp white bedding on a bed much too big for just one person. And there, in the corner, sat a jacuzzi.

Suddenly, the only thing I wanted was a nice, hot bath.

When I eased my tight and aching body down into the frothing water, I breathed a sigh of relief. The heat scalding my skin felt just like I hoped it would. And slowly, my muscles released their tension and my red hair lifted and danced around my shoulders as I sunk deeper. But, my relief was short lived as the roiling water quickly ushered in memories of Peter. I would never forget the time we visited the Grand Canyon and Peter booked a teeny tiny cabin with a jacuzzi to surprise me.

We spent a copious amount of time in that tub.

I wanted to laugh remembering us like that—young, hungry, and experimenting—but instead, sudden tears pricked behind my eyes. He was so attentive to me. Fluttering closed, my eyes still saw his face over mine, his gentle smile disappearing into a kiss on my lips. My stomach dipped as desire for all we had shared rolled through my body.

Many times in the course of our relationship, I was convinced I’d hit the jackpot. I literally couldn’t have dreamed up a better man for my future. But he was flawed. Obviously, I’d always known that. But as the years went by, I saw his flaws more and more. Peter was passive about things. He twiddled his thumbs and hemmed and hawed when big decisions required his attention. As a young woman, I saw it as caution—wanting to be ready for the worst-case scenario and not move too quickly.

But now, I saw it for what it was.

Fear.

It was why I was still childless.

Anger curled into my stomach again as I thought about all our delayed milestones. All the times I had deferred to Peter’s timeframe and not mine. For him to say that I cast him aside the moment he stopped making my dreams come true was a wild take.

I slapped him for it.

A phantom sting reappeared in my hand.

I’d never touched Peter that way. Ever.

I tried to ignore the well of regret deepening in my chest.

As I turned pruny in the tub, the bubbles whisked away the hot energy that had fueled me, and suddenly my limbs felt like lead, the water like mud. So I dragged myself out and went to bed.

But I tossed and turned, trying so hard not to think about Peter’s mouth on another woman’s.

On the cusp of sleep, my subconscious plucked a precious memory from my heart and played it in my mind’s eye.

“Promise you’ll catch me?”

Peter whispered, “I promise. You’re only dropping a few feet.”

Not wanting to chicken out in front of him, I stuck my legs through the open window, inching my body over the sill until I was bent at the waist and giggling maniacally.

“Shhh!”

I pressed my hands into the beige carpet and wriggled the rest of the way until I was gripping the bottom of the window sill and Peter’s hands grabbed my calves.