After three days at sea, I barely even notice the rocking of the ship anymore. Putting distance between me and my hometown is the best decision I’ve ever made. I feel at home on the water and free to do what I like without anyone judging me. Doing what’s expected of me all the time is so exhausting. But on the LaClaire, I can let loose and be myself. The people around me accept me as an individual, with my own ideas and a sense of humor I didn’t even know I had.

I can choose to be one person today and another tomorrow. It doesn’t matter. Whatever makes me happy is my business. I see my colleagues becoming friends even after my job on this cruise is done. At twenty-six, I’m the youngest massage therapist on the ship, but the others consider me an equal, never treating me like a child or bossing me around.

Lynn Hu, a beautiful Asian-American with long, straight raven hair, is in her early thirties, and like me, she’s divorced. Unlike me, her marriage lasted three years before her husband started chasing other women.

Ginger-haired Jillian Faucher is in her forties. A true romantic at heart, she believes there’s a soulmate out there for everyone, including me and Lynn. She’s fallen in and out of love more times than she can count, but heartbreak has not changed her belief in happily-ever-after.

The two women are helping me see the world through a different set of glasses and I like what I see. It’s almost as though, before now, I’ve been hidden from all the good the world has to offer, sheltered and made to believe that fun is a sin. After all the lessons my mother has drilled into me over the years, none of them have brought me happiness, or protected me from heartbreak. 

They say, learn from someone else’s mistakes, but right now I’m ready to learn from my own. I’ve tried it my mother’s way. Now I’m ready to branch out on my own and do things my way.

“Your two o’clock appointment has just walked in.” Jillian pops her head around the door, chewing gum. The few days I’ve known Jillian, I’ve never seen her without a piece of spearmint gum in her mouth, constantly working her jaw. “I’m sorry, love, but I’m glad he’s not one of my appointments.” That sentence is delivered in a whisper.

I follow her into the waiting room, wondering what she means, when I spot the client, wearing tiny, orange shorts with a large pot belly hanging over the waistband. A sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead and the balding part of his head. I peg him to be no older than fifty at the most.

He flashes a toothless grin. “I booked a deep tissue massage with Ms. Anderson.” His breathing is labored as though he’d climbed dozens of stairs to get to us, which he couldn’t have done since the spa is below deck.

“I’m Ms. Anderson.” I smile at him. “Please come in.”

He swipes a palm across his forehead and extends the same hand toward me for a handshake.

As I squeeze his hand, I try not to cringe at the transfer of sweat between his palm and mine.

I glance at Jillian, who winks at me and turns to arranging towels on the shelf.

I shoot her a disapproving look and turn to my client. “Please follow me, sir.”

I take him to a different room, one where the candles are already lit, and the air smells of comforting lavender.

Less than five minutes later, my client is lying flat on the massage table and my hands are sweeping across his back, ignoring the angry pimples covering every inch of skin, the sour smell of the sweat rising from his skin.

You’re a professional, Grace. You can do this.

This is my job. I’m getting paid to do this. But I distract myself anyway, thinking about something else.

An image of Bryant’s smiling face flashes in my mind, as it had the last three days each time my mind was idle. I don’t know how many times I imagined him naked, my hands on his smooth, solid chest. I’ve never thought about a guy in a sexual way like this before, not even Dustin. Bryant completely consumes my mind.

Sometimes my thoughts of him are so vivid, I fool myself into thinking his hands are on my body, his lips on mine, his orange blossom, lemon, and bergamot scent refreshing my lungs. He smells like summer to me.

Every time my thoughts of Bryant are polluted by those of Dustin. The look he gave me on our wedding night always brings all my fantasies crashing. The poison of his memories kill the butterflies in my stomach and eats at my stomach lining. Why had I ever agreed to become more than friends? Why had I accepted his proposal, given that I didn’t feel for him as I should?

I regret listening to my mother who told me that love didn’t make a marriage. I regret listening to everyone who thought we made a great couple. I regret not having listened to my heart in the first place. But the one thing I regret the most is giving my virginity to him. If I had not had sex with him, I would never have found out that I wasn’t good at it. If only I could turn back the clock and erase all memories of that night so they wouldn’t poison the present.

Maybe it’s a good thing that Bryant hasn’t called me as he said he would. I’d not be able to handle seeing another disappointed face when I’m unable to perform in bed. What was I even thinking giving him my number? He was so persuasive, so smooth that saying no didn’t cross my mind. For a moment, when he’d looked into my eyes, I’d forgotten the past, that I’m way out of his league—sexually at least. The way he moved, the way he talked told me everything I needed to know. He’s experienced and I’m a beginner. Sometimes fantasy is so much safer than reality.

I’m here to work anyway, to find myself, not love. My sexy thoughts of Bryant are better kept locked away.

My hands glide across my client’s back, my fingers kneading into his flesh the way they used to when I kneaded bread dough as a child in my mother’s kitchen. His groans fill the room, making me wish I could plug something into my ears. It’s awkward for me to listen to the sounds people make when being massaged, wondering whether those are the same noises they make during sex. I definitely do not want to imagine my client having sex.

“Am I hurting you?” I ask when the sounds get louder and ricochet off the walls.

“No. Don’t stop. It’s perfect.” He gives a low grunt that vibrates through his whole back.

Gritting my teeth, I continue loosening the knots in his back and shoulders while focusing on the low classical music coming from the hidden speakers. Instead of Bryant or Dustin, I think of the exotic stopovers planned for our journey. A bubble of joy rises up my chest at the thought of my feet sinking into warm, damp beach sand, while the sea breeze invigorates me. Even though I have to work, this is as close as it gets to a paid holiday.

I never planned for Bryant to show up in my daydream, but he does. He’s on the beach with me, touching my body, kissing me, making me feel alive. This time Dustin does not show up to ruin the moment. So, I let myself go emotionally, allowing the sensual side of me to surface. I do not emerge from my daydream until I’m done massaging my client.

When I glance down at him, he’s fast asleep and snoring. Instead of waking him immediately, I wash my hands and clean up. Before doing anything else, I pull my phone from my purse. Since it’s on silent mode, I wouldn’t have heard if someone had tried to reach me.

I have a lot of missed calls. My heart shrivels when I notice none of them are from Bryant, despite telling myself I no longer want him to call.

My mother called four times and Dustin called twice. Why does he keep calling me? Shouldn’t he be occupying himself with searching for his future porn star wife?

Without checking the number, I listen to one of the voice messages. I expect it to be my mother, who I haven’t spoken to since I left home. Avoiding her for too long will be impossible.

The voice message is from Dustin.

“Jesus, Grace, why won’t you return my calls? I know you are on a cruise ship in the Caribbean, doing whatever, but we need to talk. Call me back immediately when you get this. Your mom told me to leave you a message, so here it is. Call me.”

My temples are throbbing with anger by the time his message comes to an end. Who does he think he is to butt into my life when he didn’t want to be in it in the first place? It rubs me the wrong way that he’s still in touch with my mother, trying to pull her to his side. I owe him nothing, not even a phone call. I drop the phone back into my purse. I won’t call either of them back. No one will ruin my mood. As far as I’m concerned they can both go to Hell.

Even as I do my best not to be affected by Dustin’s message, I can’t lift the cloud that’s pressing me into the nearby chair, where I sit, massaging my temples. I can’t help thinking about what everyone is saying about me back home.

Half the town claims to be Christian, with the young and old attending church, or prayer groups, participating in church events, putting a hand on a grieving widow’s shoulder. Christians, my ass. They’re all hypocrites, who secretly enjoy a juicy piece of gossip, a good scandal. It’s been awhile since something got their tongues wagging.

The last scandal had been two years ago, when eighteen-year-old Daisy Lansford was impregnated by a married man. With all the gossip flying around, she dropped out of school and soon after, her devastated mother rushed her out of town. Many residents called the kid a disgrace to the community. My mother was one of them.

I’m sure many of them are wondering whether I’ve done the same thing, run away for good. If I had enough money to start over someplace else, I probably would. I’m not in the mood to return to a toxic environment. I have enough time to think about what my future holds while on this ship. Not much time is left for me to pine after a man who could end up hurting me. 

I bend to gather the dirty towels from the foot of the massage table, and head out to the waiting room. Jillian has also just finished a massage session and is enjoying a glass of orange juice at the minibar. She turns around when she hears me enter.

“Where’s your Prince Charming?” She asks, grinning.

I swat her arm, not at all offended. She’s good for my mood. “Having a little nap. I thought I’d give him a few moments to dream before sending him back into the stressful world.”

Jillian rinses out her glass of orange juice and turns to me with a curious expression. “Are you okay? You look kind of . . . off.”

“I’m fine. At least I’ll get there. Dustin called. You know how that gets me riled up.”

“You have to let the jerk go, once and for all.” She wags a finger at me. “You promised to stop letting him get to you.”

“I know.” I twist my braid around my free hand. “I wish it were that easy. If only there were a switch one could flick.”

“Yeah, and it would cost an arm and a leg.” Jillian crosses her arms in front of her ample breasts. “By the way, your next appointment is coming in exactly five minutes. You might want to wake the guy up, or use my room. I don’t have anyone coming in for another hour.”

“Thanks.” I hug the dirty towels to my body. “But it’s fine. I’ll stay in my room. My guy has overstayed his welcome, anyway.” I turn to walk out of the waiting room but Jillian calls me before I reach the door.

“We’re stopping over in Nassau tomorrow. A few of us are going on a bus tour. Want to come along? It’s two hours of beautiful scenery. It might take your mind off that ex of yours.”

“I don’t know.” As rotten as my mood is right now, the only thing I want to do is lock myself in my cabin to hide under the covers.

“Come on.” Her face folds with disappointment. “You said you came here to find yourself. Nassau would be a perfect place to start. Come out and have a little fun. All work and no play stinks.”

“You know what?” I square my shoulders and smile. “You’re right. Screw Dustin. Hello, Nassau.”

“I adore that new attitude.” Jillian reaches for the towels in my hands. “Get ready for your appointment. I’ll take these to the laundry room for you. I was headed there anyway.”