***

I wake up early after a restless night spent tossing and turning over nightmares of Aurora and Richard rolling in bed. A mix of all the fantasies I’ve had about Richard played before my eyes. Only the woman in the dream—nightmare—wasn’t me.

I throw the blankets away, and after carefully washing my face, I launch myself into my running ritual. Energizing playlist, on. Fit watch, on. I-can-run-my-sorrow-to-death plan, so on.

This time I choose the running path heading south, and it doesn’t take me long to reach the Venice boardwalk. With only surfers braving the waters, the beach is almost deserted this early in the morning. The quietness helps calm my nerves. So do the exercise endorphins.

I kick my shoes off and abandon the concrete trail. The sand is cool under my feet, a nice sensation after a long run. I choose a spot on a small dune to sit and stare at the ocean and the surfers paddling on the water. They seem so free and careless as they ride the waves.

When the sun starts burning my skin, I head back to the hotel. Unfortunately, the jog hasn’t cleared my head as much as I’d hoped. And nothing can change the fact that I have to spend six hours stuck on a plane next to Richard.

The boss doesn’t know why you knocked on his door last night.

Maybe not. Aurora might’ve guessed, but no one knows for sure. What if Richard asks me point-blank? A resolution forms in my heart. If asked, I’ll lie through my teeth.

Hoping to work my body to exhaustion so that I’ll sleep on the plane and avoid unpleasant conversation, I take the stairs up to the eleventh floor. When I get there, I’m positively puffing.

To my horror, as soon as I push the stairs door open, I spot Aurora and Richard embracing in the hallway. I freeze. My room is past theirs. I consider running away, but Aurora catches me out of the corner of her eye and presses herself even closer to Richard in a goodbye kiss.

The kiss seems to last forever, but eventually, the leech releases her sucker. Aurora walks toward the elevator, waving at me with a nasty grin on her face. That’s when Richard spots me.

No escape, then. The only way is forward.

“Morning,” Richard says, as I pass him.

I ignore him and carry on along the corridor, walking on tiptoes. Richard has never seen me at my real, non-heeled shortness.

He follows me. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

“Morning.”

“Would you please stop for a second?”

“Why?”

“Did you want to discuss something last night?”

“I wanted to pick your brain on some creative ideas…” I say, not looking at him and trying to fit the key in its slot. My hands are shaking so badly it’s difficult.

“What ideas?”

I give up the fighting and spin around to face the boss. “It doesn’t matter. I sorted everything out on my own.”