Page 36 of The Oscar Escape
“This isn’t reality TV, Aria. This is your reality. And in that reality, on Havenmatch Island, there was an incident. Well, more likemultiple incidents,” he explained, then rested his hand to the small of her back. He guided her out of the room and closed the door behind them.
Under normal circumstances, after a knock-down, drag-out fight, she would have told him to get his paws off her. She would have then informed the man that she could walk down a corridor by herself. But there was nothing normal about what was happening on this Twilight Zone of an island—besides Oscar’s normal penis reaction, which—OMG—she had to forget.
Was she losing her mind? It sure felt like it.
“Do you recall taking the ferry to the island?”
“No.” She stared ahead, now feeling like she was the one about to walk the plank.
“Do you remember the island chocolate shop?”
“Chocolate shop?” she repeated. Whatever she’d done—it sounded crazier by the second. “I thought I had a chocolaty taste in my mouth, but I don’t remember a shop.”
“Do you remember what you did to the island landmark?”
Holy shit!The last thing she remembered from last night was falling asleep after they’d left the club.
From this moment on, she’d follow the instructions on medication to the letter and cut out whiskey. Wait! That may be a bit extreme. She’d cut back on spirits—and never mix them with over-the-counter cold syrup and muscle relaxers again.
She looked up at Oscar. “Just spit it out. What happened after we left the club?” she asked as they paused in front of a grand staircase leading to what appeared to be a gathering area on the ground floor. She’d meant to press the man to get some damned answers, but the quest for knowledge took a back seat to the scenery. Instead, she took a beat to drink in quaint groupings of couches and club chairs sprinkled with coastal décor and driftwood accents. Like their room, the neutral shades of white, oatmeal, and gray, with pops of misty blue, gave the space a tranquil, Zen-like quality. It felt like a sanctuary where one could get lost in a book or lose track of time composing music.
Lose track of time composing music?
What a peculiar thing for her to think. Then again, maybe it wasn’t that strange. She was a musician—albeit a musician who wasn’t quite following her heart when it came to her music. But she was still an artist, and she’d connected to the place’s energy and the serene vibe. Whatever it was, it had left her feeling more grounded than she’d felt in a long time. She lifted her gaze and studied a sign above the doors leading outside. It was a rustic piece of weathered driftwood with a sentence carved into the center.
Drifters and dreamers are always welcome at the Sweet Escape Inn.
An escape. Wasn’t that what Dom thought she needed?
“Let’s get some air. I’ll tell you everything outside,” Oscar said, pulling her from her thoughts.
He guided her down the steps. The main doors were propped open, and the scent of the sea and the cries of the gulls added to the tranquil sensory experience. It was as if she wasn’t walking but floating through the main gathering area and onto the porch with white Adirondack chairs. Greeted by an expanse of color, she looked across the sloping grassy lawn peppered with pops of burnt orange and scarlet shrubbery soaking up the fall sun. The gray-shingled buildings trimmed in white that she’d seen from her room were more charming the closer she got to them. With the sun dancing on the water’s surface, this place was like something out of a dream. And then she saw a structure with plywood over a window.
“I wonder what happened there?”
Oscar cleared his throat. “You happened there.”
She read the hanging sign above the door.
Havenmatch Chocolatier
“What do you mean ‘I happened there’?” She took a few steps down a gravel path and stopped at a fork in the trail. “Hold on,” she said, plucking the lobster sticky note from the map. “We better follow Mrs. Alden’s instructions.”
“I don’t think we need them.”
She eyed her companion. “Do not play the man card and disregard directions. Do you know your way around this place?”
Oscar stuffed his hands in his pockets and cemented his lips together.
“I’ll take that as a no. All right,” she snapped, taking charge as she pulled her highlighter from the coil on her notebook. She highlighted each step with quick, practiced strokes, utilizing a learning technique that helped her neurodivergent brain process the information. “We take the Evangeline Path to the Homer Trail. Then we take a route called Nineteen Sisters Loop. Strange names, but okay, let’s get going.”
The path snaked toward the dock and the chocolate shop with the busted window.
“What did I do? Break the window with my bare hands?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her tongue as they headed toward the water and what appeared to be a little island Main Street, sprinkled with shops.
“No, you used a rock.”
She stopped, and her jaw dropped for what felt like the hundredth time today. She’d need to tape the damned thing closed if this kept happening. “I did that?”
