Page 9 of Revival

I force a smile. “He left the next day.”

She tuts. “He must have been young and dumb.”

“Something like that.”

We both were. Young. Dumb. In love. Spencer Stone was the sun that brightened my every day until he became the night.

“That was twenty years ago.” I uncross and recross my legs the other way.

“Oh, that’s ancient history.” She bats her hand through the air. “Give that man another spin and show him what he missed out on!”

My heart flutters tiredly at the mere prospect.

“I have more self-worth than that.”

“Honey, self-worth comes from how you think of yourself. You could sleep with a new man every night of the week and still have your dignity intact as long as you enjoyed yourself. Lord knows I have plenty! And I know nothing fixes a broken heart better than treating yourself to a few well-deserved orgasms.”

Spencer’s face flashes in my mind. Not the teenaged version. A much older one. One with smile lines and a few wrinkles. One with bandages over fresh burns on the side of his handsome face.

I shut that image down as simply as closing a book.

“I’ll consider it.”

“I’ll be at the Champagne Shores resort if you need any company or assistance.”

A reluctant smile sneaks free just thinking of having a sixty-year-old wingwoman. “I’m just hoping for some sunshine and relaxation. I think I’m done with men for the foreseeable future.”

“As long as you remember, they’re not all like your ex, so don’t become bitter. You never know who might waltz right into your life when you least expect it.”

The flight attendants walk around snapping overhead bins shut, signaling our approaching departure. The two mimosas sit warmly in my stomach, easing my earlier distress and ushering me into a happy place I haven’t visited in a while.

This vacation will be good. I can feel it. Instead of the honeymoon I envisioned, I’ll spend a week on sandy beaches and glittering shores, sipping cocktails I don’t have to prepare for myself, soaking in the sun, reading some smutty romance on my Kindle, and only having to think about myself. No vet appointments, no stray animals, no nosy brothers, no mothering. And definitely no cheating, self-serving, bastard ex-fiancés.

Just me, myself, and I.

The blissful bubble in my mind warms me nearly as much as the two mimosas.

“That’s the spirit!” Delaney cheers from my right. She must be reading my face because I haven’t said a word.

“We’re boarding the final passengers, and we’ll be on our way shortly. Thank you.” The disembodied voice of a flight attendant sends an electrical pulse to my nerves.

I’m about to embark on my first ever solo trip. I sink into my seat and close my eyes. This is really happening, and I’m feeling weirdly proud about the fact I’m on a plane and not curled in my comfy cozies in bed with a glass of Merlot like I had been the past several weeks.

Allegedly.

A girl has to mourn. Though I think it’s about my dignity and the opportunity to wear a gorgeous dress rather than anything to do with my ex, Sebastian. There’s no tears shed over the loss of him. His assistant can keep him and his average-sized dick. She fakes her orgasms, and he fakes everything else. The two are perfect for each other.

“Oh, my.” The quiet reaction is just loud enough for me to hear over the activity on the plane. Delaney’s words are breathy if not a little excited. “Now that’s a nice fish.”

Footsteps sound down the narrow aisle. I keep my eyes firmly shut, not wanting to draw anyone else’s attention before takeoff. I could use a nap after that gab session with Delaney. At least until I’m up in the air and can enjoy another mimosa.

Besides, the seat beside me was reserved for my ex and our nonrefundable honeymoon package, so I have the entire row to myself.

I feel the warmth of someone entirely too close to my face before a deep, rumbling voice sounds in my ear.

“I believe you’re in my seat, love.”

My eyes fly open, locking onto those familiar icy blues as he pulls back.

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