I love the fantasy we’re living in. Sure, once we’re back home everything will change. Are we going to continue our relationship? We’ll work things out. Unless he thanks me for all my hard work and shows me to the door because I’m distracting him.

No, he wouldn’t do that. He promised.

As the guy who got a nice glance of my almost naked body leaves, there’s a lady holding a bouquet of flowers presented in a basket and a few balloons tied to it that says Happy Birthday.

The pink and red roses mixed with wallflowers, calla lilies, lilies, gladiolus, and sunflowers bring life into the room. Miller is delivering just what he promised. The best birthday ever. If only he was here.

I walk toward the terrace and look at the set table. It’s impossible not to smile as I realize there’s a tub of vanilla frosting. There’s a sticky note with his handwriting that says,

Because frosting is all you need to celebrate.

That’s exactly what I told him during his sister’s wedding. This man deserves a medal. A kiss. Definitely a blow job.

“Where are you, Miller Archer?” I ask sighing.

Grabbing my tablet, I decide to sit by the pool to wait for him while I read. I’m sure he’s somewhere around the hotel, picking up another surprise.

When I read, I lose track of time. I measure it by chapters. Once I finish the seventh chapter, I frown. Where the hell is this man?

I grab my phone and against my better judgement, I power it on. Messages upon messages from Devon Evans pop as soon as I connect the Wi-Fi.

D. Evans: I haven’t received your email. 

D. Evans: I’m pretty sure you said you were working on it, where is it?

D. Evans: You’re being fucking unprofessional. 

D. Evans: Your job is on the line; you better answer the phone. 

There are at least thirty voicemails from Devon, and every text is worse than the one before. What does he mean, where are the drafts? I sent him everything before I left home on Thursday. The most recent text is from earlier today and my stomach drops.

D. Evans: Thank you for nothing, Miller and Gary fixed your mess. We need to talk. Your career is on the line.    

Miller?

Is he downstairs at the business center? Oh my God, what happened while I was sleeping?

I take a deep breath and head to the closet. I can’t go downstairs wearing a swimming suit, but when I slide the wood doors, I notice his luggage is missing and so is his garment bag. Why didn’t I notice his clothes were gone?

My throat goes dry as I realize he left without saying goodbye.

Why didn’t he wake me up?