Page 50 of Love Off Course

“Apology accepted,” Damian says.

“I will practice saying your name,” Estefania offers.

I pull away, shaking my head at her. “I like the way you say it.”

She grins at me. “Sherrie-dan it is!”

“Ew,” Damian whines. “Are you two going to make out? Because I’ve been told I have a horrible gag reflex. I can’t watch. My eyes!”

We all laugh at his dramatics. Then, my best friends and I walk through the rain, feeling happier and lighter than moments before.

God, I’m going to miss them.

After spendingthe night on a cot and then getting soaked in the rain, napping on the bed in the small villa was heaven. Estefania must be asleep in her room on the other side of the villa and there’s no telling where Damian ran off to. All I know is it’s blissfully quiet. I haven’t had a quiet moment to myself in days.

Someone raps on the door and I cringe.

I’m hoping it’s not Rosita or Eduardo. When they delivered my things, it’d been awkward. Eduardo tried to be the perky hotel host, but Rosita’s dark mood put a damper on things. I managed to take the soaked luggage without getting slapped by Rosita or going off on her. Crisis averted.

Groaning, I slide out of bed and head for the front door. A part of me hopes it’s Camilo coming to apologize. It’s girlish and silly. I’m smarter than that. Where Damian and Estefania are true friends, Camilo just wanted in my pants. Or panties in my case. Ugh. Gross. He’s gross. I’m gross. We’re all gross.

I fling open the door, a sour look on my face, prepared to send him on his way. Instead of finding the hot pilot who pisses me off, I find his grandmother. Lovely. She has a bag over her shoulder, mutters something in Spanish, and pushes inside.

Um, okay.

“Can I help you?”

She ignores me, or doesn’t understand me, and makes her way into my room. When she starts unpacking her bag, I tense up with irritation.

“Ma’am,” I grumble. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It’s been a long couple of days and I need a breather.”

She points to my bed, a look of impatience on her wrinkly features.

Fine. This lady wants to watch me nap? Cool. I’ll add it to the obnoxious list of weird stuff that’s happened to me since I got on that plane.

As I walk past her, she tugs at my shirt, trying to pull it off.

“Hey!” I cry out. “Don’t touch!”

She huffs, shaking her head, and mimics massaging. It’s then I’m reminded she’s the hotel masseuse. Oh, dear God. This is awkward. I’m not about to let an ancient grandma rub me down with her arthritic fingers. Pass. That’s just mean. I’m a lot of things, but making this old lady massage me when it should be the other way around is not one of those things.

When she smacks my bottom, I cry out in shock. She’s serious. I guess I’m not getting out of this. With a huff of frustration, I pull off my shirt and lie face down on the bed. I can hear her unpacking things and then she sets something down on the nightstand. A few seconds later, familiar music starts playing.

I tense up.

“Rocket Man.”

I’d overheard she was an Elton John fan after I played for everyone on the piano, and now it’s confirmed. Hearing a song my momma taught me to play when I’m already in a fragile emotional state hits me right in the gut. I’m tense as I will the tears away. Something warm squirts out onto my back and I jump. She smacks my bottom again and then starts rubbing my back. At first, it’s gentle. Then, she puts incredible strength into pushing on the knots in my shoulders. I gasp in shock. Who knew this little old lady had it in her? I groan in half pain, half pleasure as she works me over. This is quite possibly the highlight of my horrible trip.

As I begin to relax, I can’t help but think about Momma.

I don’t even remember what she looks like anymore. Sure, we have pictures, but it’s not the same. Her face is a fuzzy memory. Her scent is something I no longer can recall. All I have left is the way she made me feel. Loved. Happy. Safe. All the things Daddy had to double down on when she died. It’s not fair to him the way I clung to him once she died. I never gave him any room. I embedded my life so deeply in his that I’d never be alone again.

Is this why I want David?

Because not only is he Daddy’s best friend, but it would mean more time together?

God, talk about being the ultimate daddy’s girl.

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