Page 49 of Love Off Course

“Thank God for travel insurance,” I bite out. “Can you please show me to my new accommodations?” I give Rosita a frosty smile.

Her eyes narrow and her nostrils flare. “We can assess one of the empty villas and see about having you transferred over there as soon as?—”

“Now,” I bark. “I need a place to lie down and not catch pneumonia while I’m at it. Show me to my new room now.”

Eduardo shoots me a pleading look that I ignore. I know I’m poking the bear. Rosita isn’t exactly nice. I recognize another shark of a woman when I see one.

“Oh my,” Estefania cries out when she steps inside the room. “Oh, Sherrie-dan, you must be so upset!”

“Everything’s soaked and ruined, but surprisingly I’m okay,” I grind out. “I just want a new room. Now.” I know I sound petulant and bitchy, but I need space from these people before I go nuclear.

“I will gather our things,” Estefania says, splashing across the ruined carpet.

“I’ll pay double to have my own villa,” I tell Rosita.

Estefania whirls around and gapes at me, hurt flaring in her eyes. “Sherrie-dan?—”

“Sheridan. Not Sher or Sherrie or Sherrie-dan. Sheridan.” I have to look away from the way her eyes glass over with tears. This is me. I push incompetent people away. These people have nothing to offer me. They aren’t assets, they’re pains in my ass.

“You’re a real peach,” Rosita mutters under her breath. “I felt a little sorry for you when my son lost his cool, but now I get it. You don’t deserve him. If you had anywhere else to go right now, I would make you leave.”

Her words hurt, but I know I’ve brought them on myself. Rather than showing the emotion that’s ripping me to shreds, I bare my claws and fangs and whatever else defense mechanism I can draw out.

“I’m the peach?” I say, scoffing. “You’re not much better. Guilting your son at every turn. Letting your family walk away because you couldn’t bear to let go of thisshithole. And look at it now? Ruined. Too bad you also ruined your family in the process.”

Smack!

I gape at her, rubbing at my stinging cheek. “You hit me.” I’ve never been hit in my entire life.

Eduardo’s voice grows authoritative as he barks out a whole lot of nonsense in Spanish that makes Rosita wither a little. Real fear shines in her eyes. Not from what he says to her, because Eduardo wouldn’t hurt a fly. But because of what she thinks I’ll do to her.

I’ll fucking sue her to death.

For a moment, her eyes are sad. Her chin trembles. She looks so small. It reminds me of Momma there at the very end when she was trying to be strong for her little girl. This is worse than any slap. It’s a stab to the heart. A sob wrenches up my throat and I stumble back, trembling.

I’m a monster.

Momma would be horrified at the woman I’ve become.

I want to apologize to Rosita. To tell her I’m not this person. At least, I don’t want to be. But no words come out. Just tears. Estefania, whom I lashed at only seconds ago, comes to my aid. Is this what real friendship is? Still caring for someone even when they’ve been a mega bitch to you? She hugs me and I let her. I’m supposed to be pushing them all away and hardening my heart because the moment I leave this place, they’ll all be part of the past anyway. And yet I can’t bring myself to push Estefania anymore. I feel like I need her.

“Rosita and I will move your things for you. Your villa isnúmero dos, er number two. We will meet you there,” Eduardo says, his voice apologetic.

He has nothing to be sorry for.

It’s me.

I’m the problem.

Estefania leads me out of the room and back into the rain. We find Damian outside, his mascara running down his cheeks, shivering and looking like a drowned rat. I thought I couldn’t feel any worse. That was wrong.

I feel like scum.

“Come here,” I tell him, my voice hoarse with emotion.

He splashes over to us and hugs the both of us. All three of us cry like little girls on the playground. It’s embarrassing and oddly freeing all at once. In this horribly vulnerable moment, I allow my two best friends—my only friends—to hold me together because I’m quickly unraveling. I don’t deserve them. I don’t understand why they’re still here, even after my being a mega bitch toward them. It makes no sense whatsoever.

“My momma used to always tell me when life gives you lemons, toss them back, grab some limes, and make margaritas.” I sniffle and shiver. “I owe you both a margarita and an apology. I’m sorry.”

---