This week has been moving like someone in slow motion.

Underwater.

In a pool of molasses.

I feel like a child counting the number of ‘sleeps’ left until their birthday. Somehow I made it through. The days finally disappeared. Tonight, Colt is picking me up and taking me to one of the most luxurious spa hotels for a romantic weekend staycation.

All week, I’ve been looking at the pictures online of the Mandarin Oriental New York, imagining myself as the smiling woman with her hand frozen around a wine glass for the photographer. Whenever an ungrateful customer complained about their fries being too cold, I would just close my eyes, take a deep breath, and remember the couple’s package Colt booked for us in the spa studio.

All week, we’ve been talking late into the night and texting like a couple of lovestruck high school kids. I feel guilty that I ever doubted him. After our long conversations into the wee hours of the morning, I’ve learned Colt Grant is one thing: a great guy.

He’s so grounded and humble. Every day he listens to me talk about my day or my thoughts with genuine interest. At first I found his sincerity disarming. Like most adults, I’ve grown accustomed to people being closed off and specific about how they advertise their ‘personal brands.’ Colt lacks all of that pretension, just being himself, to hell with whoever doesn’t like it.

Self-pity started to flood over me when I realized I’ve deserved a man like this for a long time. Yet, I’ve been settling for men who treat me like a piece of ass for years now. Being the ‘fun girl’ has become a mask I’ve trapped myself behind because in my heart, I never believed I deserved more.

Still, I can’t shake this feeling that Colt is holding back. The teddy bear is at the bottom of my list of things that have tipped off my radar. Twice this past week, Colt has ended our conversation abruptly blaming his job for the interruption. Who has work issues to tend to at 11:00 p.m.?

However, I don’t want to make any assumptions and taint our blossoming relationship with suspicions that could just be my own issues getting in the way. I don’t think he’s a bad guy or even a particularly sneaky guy, so I’m just going to hold my tongue and see where this path takes me.

Snapping my suitcase shut, I have to laugh at myself. With all the changes of clothes and products I’m dragging along, you’d think I was going away for much longer than a couple days. I think I’m all set. Now I just need to wait for Colt. Checking my phone, I see I have missed two calls and a voicemail. It’s always on vibrate for work, but then I forget to turn the damned ringer back on when I get home. Hopefully, Colt isn’t outside waiting for me.

There’s a loud roar in the background on the message, making Colt’s voice sound distant and small. “Isabella, I’ve already called, but you’re not picking up. I didn’t want to do this on your voicemail, but I have to cancel our plans. I’m at the airport right now. I’ve had an… unexpected matter come up that I need to deal with right away. I’m so sorry, but I promise I’m going to make it up to you when I get back, okay?” The roaring in the background becomes unbearable, muting out anything else he might have said. I dial his number, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but it goes straight to his mailbox.

Surprise.

My heart is pounding, and my stomach is twisting up in knots. Unexpected matter? Bullshit! What the hell is going on with him? It’s like he keeps flying somewhere on weekends to live another life. The thought forms ice in my veins. Is he married?

“Christ, I bet he is!” I kick my suitcase in my stockings, and my toe crumples along the side of the sturdy Samsonite.

“Oww.” I hop around on one foot, cursing Colt and his lies. The pain subsides in my foot long before it will in my heart. I have no intention of being the other woman in some man’s life. That would explain his late night phone calls, the last-minute changes, and the teddy bear. Wouldn’t that just be my luck?

I decide a quick Google search can answer a few questions for me. However, when I read through his wiki page, there’s nothing about any marriages, past or present. Searching through a few more pages, I come up empty-handed. There are no records of Colt being married, divorced, or engaged. Nothing. My nerves settle a little, but a nagging little voice is telling me something isn’t adding up here. I need some time and distance to clear my head. I guess it works out well that my weekend has been ruined, so I have plenty of hours to fill with suspicion and worries. Lucky me.