And that’s how I find myself, four days later, in a taxi with Morgan, on our way to our hotel in San Kamphaeng after the longest flight of my life. And, when I say longest, I mean, because of Morgan. Sure, we had to fly from Chicago to Bangkok and then take a flight to Chiang Mai.

But I’ve done long flights before.

It was made unbearably longer by the fact that Morgan wouldn’t speak to me unless it was work-related. According to her, we don’t need to talk about work until tomorrow, so there’s no need for us to talk at all. And, when I have tried to coax her into speaking to me, all I’ve gotten back is, Fuck off, I hate you, or Can’t you just hurry up and die already?

So, clearly, I’m in for a fun trip.

But it is partly my fault. She’s still pissed about the Craigslist ad.

I did take it down straight after the meeting, like I’d said I would, but it seemed some creepers had kept hold of her number and kept calling her at all hours. So, she had to get a new cell phone number.

Honestly, I feel like a bit of a shit about it now.

I tried to apologize, but those were the times when she told me to fuck off and that she hated me.

I just wish we could get back to when we were getting along, and I hadn’t screwed things up with her because of the Sierra thing. And, yes, news flash—I’m taking responsibility for that. Sure, I didn’t tell Sierra to come to my office to try to seduce me, but I also didn’t head her off at the pass. And, if I hadn’t screwed her in the first place or if I’d been honest with Morgan and told her when she hired Sierra, then it wouldn’t have happened the way it did, and Morgan might still be talking to me right now.

The taxi comes to a stop at our hotel. We’re staying at the Secret Garden Chiang Mai for three nights. I don’t know much about the place because Chrissy booked it for us. All I know is that it’s close to Ananda.

Hopefully, it has a bar, as I’m going to need a shitload of alcohol to get me through this trip.

I pay the driver, and Morgan and I get out of the car.

The heat is stifling.

The driver gets our bags out of the trunk, and a hotel porter is already loading our luggage onto a cart.

I have one small suitcase and a bag for my laptop and shit. Morgan has a large suitcase, a small suitcase, and hand luggage.

Apparently, she doesn’t travel light. But I haven’t commented on that fact, for fear of getting my foot stamped on again—or worse, getting kicked in the nuts.

We walk into reception and straight to the desk.

“Hi.” The woman behind the desk smiles at us.

“We’ve got a reservation under Cross.”

She taps some keys on her keyboard. “Ah, yes. Mr. Cross and Miss Stickford. Staying for three nights. Miss Stickford, you are in our Flower bungalow. Mr. Cross, you are in the Hibiscus bungalow. The bungalows are attached, so you are right next to each other.”

Awesome.

“I’ll just need a credit card in case you want to charge food and drinks to your room. Nothing will be charged until you check out.”

I pull my company credit card from my wallet. She takes it and swipes it through a card reader, and then she hands it back to me.

“Here are the keys for your bungalows.” She puts them on the counter.

I pick them up and hand Morgan hers. She doesn’t say a word. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time she spoke. I’m starting to wonder if her voice has stopped working, which wouldn’t be an entirely bad thing.

“Also, here is a map of the hotel.” The receptionist lays it out on the counter. “This is where your bungalows are.” She taps to a point on the map. “Just follow the path out of here, and you’ll find them, no problem. Chula has taken your luggage straight to your bungalows, so they will be there, waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, picking up the map.

“Do the rooms have air-conditioning?” Morgan asks the receptionist.

So, her voice is still working. Shame.

“Yes. The bungalows are all fitted with air-conditioning.”

“Do the bungalows have Wi-Fi?” I ask.

“Yes. You can access Wi-Fi anywhere on the hotel grounds. Here is the Wi-Fi address and password.” She hands me a slip of paper, which I pocket.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Enjoy your stay with us.”

Yeah, I’m sure it’s going to be a blast.

Morgan walks out first, and I follow behind. We walk in silence to our bungalows.

When we reach them, Morgan unlocks the door to her bungalow. She walks inside and shuts the door behind her without a word.

Okay then.

I let myself into my bungalow.

It’s an open plan. Not huge, but it’ll do. There are two double beds, a TV, a small kitchen area, and a separate bathroom.

My suitcase is waiting for me by one of the beds. I dump my laptop bag on the bed and lift my case up onto there, too. I open it up and get my wash bag out, and then I go take a shower.

Fresh out of the shower, I dress in shorts and a T-shirt. Then, I check my phone.

A few emails from Chrissy. Dom and Coop are arguing over an upcoming basketball game in our group message. But, apart from that, nothing of interest.

I could go get something to eat, I guess, but I ate on the plane, and I’m not that hungry. I’m not tired either.

So, what should I do?

Fuck it. I’m going to go to the bar and have a drink.

I pocket my wallet and cell and let myself out of my bungalow.

I lock the door behind me. Then, I hesitate, wondering if I should knock on Morgan’s door and ask her if she wants to join me.

But then she’s not exactly talking to me at the moment, and I don’t relish in the thought of having her tell me to fuck off again.

So, I shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts, and I wander off in the direction of the main hotel.