I’d promised to bring down a sketch I made of her a few days ago, while I was sitting poolside with my green concoction. It wasn’t like I remembered her, she was much more peaceful looking, laying in a hammock by the shore with guys that looked like Antonio Banderas bringing her flavored tea and reciting poetry.

All her favorite things surrounding her.

I imagined we had the same view as I looked out into the ocean. That she was with me only in her world.

“Man, I need a margarita,” Beth whined.

“I need a man,” Jill countered.

I laughed. “I can run inside and get you one, Beth.”

“Nah, it’s a trek, it’ll be warm by the time you make it back here. There used to be a tiki bar right here, but it’s temporarily closed…staffing issue or something.”

“That’s B.S.,” Jill argued. “They just don’t want us drinking.”

“Or having coffee for that matter,” I whined back.

“You said the C word…did you know coffee has mold in it and is supposedly what causes migraines and makes you sluggish later in the day,” Jill, who was the health nut between the three of us, informed.

We made fun of the things we all knew we secretly loved about the resort and laid under the trees until our early afternoon wellness activity.

Every day felt better than the last during my stay here so far, as I’d told my new friends when they asked. I felt stronger and energetic.

But what I kept to myself, and the reason I’d extended my stay, was that it was going to take a little longer to try and put my own heart back together.

After dinner, I hung out with some new friends at the lounge and when more than half of them called it a night by ten o’clock, I took a stroll along the boardwalk. The beach was closed at this hour, but I snuck down the ramp, took off my flip flops and strolled along the cool sand. Loving the ocean breeze at night. Needing the time away from endless activities and chit-chat to just think.

Or reflect, as they said here.

“I think the beach is closed at this hour.”

I shrieked and jumped, turning to the male voice behind me.

The moonlight and a few distant boardwalk lights was all I had to make him out. But I’d know his voice anywhere.

“August?”

“Hello, Harper.”

He cautiously stood a few feet from me and I glanced around us as if he were someone I should be afraid of.

“Can I come closer?”

My body shivered. “Closer than what? Twelve hundred miles? What are you doing here?” I shouted and instantly covered my mouth. Half expecting the beach police to start flashing lights at us. “You know this is a private resort. You’re trespassing,” I hissed.