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on the way to the ambulance. “It’s going to be
okay.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said again. “This is all my fault.”
    “Yeah.”
    “And your bike I-”
    “Forget about the bike. Let’s just make sure you’re okay.”
    He tried to smile at me, but it was more of a pained grimace.
    I could see he was trying to be brave, but I was in no mood to
be impressed.
    As far as I was concerned, he got lucky. Again. It was just
another close call and at this point there had been too many. Plus, not only had
he essentially stolen from me this time since I never even joked about letting
him take my bike out, but he made a mistake that led to more people getting
hurt than just himself.
    And I couldn’t abide by that.
    He could’ve killed himself.
    Or someone else.
    I crawled in the back of the ambulance beside him and watched as
the paramedics poked and prodded him, checking his vitals and cleaning his
wounds in a flurry of automatic, highly trained movements.
    I would make sure he was okay.
    That was my duty.
    But as far as enabling him going forward, well, his luck with me
had officially run out.
     
     

Chapter
8: Audrey
     
     
    I didn’t feel
any better after cleaning out the mini bar. I was positive that some
overpriced, travel sized shots of liquor would be just what I needed to take
the edge off, but it was no use.
     
    Fortunately, I
wasn’t quite low enough to eat the overpriced Pringles and the chilled
M&Ms, though it did occur to me that room service might be able to bring me
some of the sorbet Megan mentioned. But after some careful consideration, I
decided that eating my feelings was something I could look forward to doing in
Seattle and not the way I wanted to spend my last night in paradise.
     
    Plus, it would
be a shame to spoil the good buzz I had going.
     
    Since the last
thing I wanted to do was think about my life, I decided to channel my energy
into packing. In fact, I figured that instead of my usual strategy of stuffing
my suitcase like a toddler, I would go to great lengths to fold and roll
everything so my laundry was sorted and at least one tiny corner of my life was
perfectly controlled, admirable even.
     
    So, naturally,
I was still wide awake and packing when Megan got back to the room just after
midnight.
     
    “Hey,” I said,
looking over my shoulder when I heard her come in.
     
    “Hey,” she
said, closing the door behind her. “Have you been crying?”
     
    “No,” I said,
going back to folding with purpose.
     
    She walked up
beside me. “Are you sure? Because your nose is red and your eyes are puffy.”
     
    I shrugged.
“It’s my allergies acting up.”
     
    “You don’t
have allergies.”
     
    “Maybe I’m
allergic to Thailand and I’m only just realizing it.”
     
    “Or maybe
you’re allergic to feeling rejected?”
     
    “Ouch.”
     
    “Like
everybody else,” she added.
     
    “It’s a theory
anyway,” I said, bending down to roll a skirt against the bed.
     
    “Seriously,
though.” She sat on the edge of her bed and looked up at me, wedging her hands
between her knees. “Are you okay?”
     
    “I’m fine.”
     
    “Really?” she
asked. “Cause it’s okay if you’re not.”
     
    “Really. I’m
fine.”
     
    She nodded and
hung her head, deciding not to push me, but her silence was unbearable.
     
    “I mean, I’ve
been better,” I said, laying the rolled skirt in my suitcase.
     
    “Maybe there
was some sort of emergency,” she said. “He could have been in an accident or
something?”
     
    I tilted my
head at her.
     
    “It’s
possible.”
     
    “It’s also
possible that I just have terrible taste in men and am an appalling judge of
character.”
     
    “I really
don’t think his absence tonight is a reflection on you.”
     
    “Thanks,” I
said. “That’s a relief.”
     
    “Good.”
     
    I raised a
knee to rest it on the edge of the bed and folded my arms. “Cause I was totally
myself with him, ya know? Maybe even a version of