48 First Dates (Seeking Romance #1)

The Prince of Puerto Rico

20

Dad gone forever.

Things begin to go downhill

Not Diego’s fault.

M y dad didn’t pull through.

Two days after Brenn and I arrived, he passed away. It was expected and sudden at the same time.

Cancer does that to you.

It takes the person you love piece by piece. Then it gives you hope they will survive. Right before it slices your heart into pieces once more when it returns and steals them away forever.

I know why my dad kept the severity of his cancer from me. He wanted me to live my life. He didn’t want cancer to steal yet another thing from the people he loved.

I know this because he told me. He begged for my forgiveness as he lay dying.

I told him it didn’t matter.

I told him I couldn’t be angry with him.

I told him I loved him.

I told him I wanted him to stay with us forever.

But cancer stole that.

And I was furious at cancer.

I don’t remember a ton about the time right after my dad died. Sadness and anger clouded most of those memories. But I remember Brenn. He was always there. He let me cry in his arms. He tethered me to reality with the grasp of his hand. He grounded me with a touch to the small of my back throughout the day. He wrapped me up in his arms at night so that I could sleep.

Looking back, I am so grateful Brenn was there. He knew exactly what I needed in the worst week of my life, and he never asked for anything in return. I can never repay him for the gift that he was to me in those moments.

But at that time, there was a massive black hole in my heart. Everything good fell through the void. I had no idea how to process the loss of the single most important person in my life up until that point. Added to that was the loss of my hopes for a fairytale future with Wyatt, and I was a jumbled mess.

Two weeks after my dad died, the fog lifted a bit. Brenn had gone home to his family’s farm to help for the summer, and Tom had gone with him. Mitzi and Cynthia hovered over me like mother hens protecting their fragile egg.

The supernova of pain still swirled, but I knew it was time to get back to some sense of normalcy. I was in the grocery store picking out a carton of strawberries. I turned them over to check for mold and sniffed the sweet deliciousness. As I set them in my cart, a voice broke through the background noise. “Princess Snot-rocket.”

Libby.

This is not the kind of normalcy I need right now.

I know how to get rid of her fast…

“Heard things went south with Hobie. Why are you here?” I gripped the cart tightly as I grimaced.

“Summer, Addie. I come home for the summer.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at me.

“Nice seeing you.” I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away.

But Libby blocked my path. Her voice softened as she said, “Listen—”

The tears built in the corners of my eyes. “I’m not in the mood for this rigmarole today, Libby.” I stepped forward, expecting her to move out of the way.

Instead, her shoulders fell as she looked into my cart. “I suspected that, I—”

The line of vegetables next to Libby blurred into a carpet of green with pops of red and yellow. “Enough! Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” I shoved the cart at her, ignoring her gaping mouth.

She jumped out of the way. I thought I heard her say, “Wait.” But I wasn’t stopping for anything, especially with tears pouring down my face.

I made it to the car, completely out of breath and sobbing. When the tears subsided, the void they left filled with a plan. I needed a change of scenery. Everything would be fine if I could just get away from this place. As if some sunshine and breathtaking vistas would plug the hole my dad left. I texted Cynthia.

Me

Got a sec?

Cynthia

Anything for you.

Me

Can I come over?

Cynthia

Sure. Mitz is here already. Come around back. We’re on the porch.

Moments later, as we sat on Cynthia’s back porch, I shared my plan. “I’m going to Puerto Rico. There’s nothing for me back in Sparksville. And I can’t be here right now. So I’m going to knock off one of my bucket list locations.” My friends stared back at me with open mouths.

As an afterthought, I said, “You guys should come with me.”

Cynthia frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, sweetie? What about your mom?”

“Virginia is fine.” I waved my hand as if my mother was no concern of mine.

Cynthia and Mitzi stared at me with raised eyebrows. “Well, not fine, but taken care of. My sister is staying for the next two months. I need to get out of here, to be someplace where the memories aren’t, and to walk somewhere that isn’t mired in grief clay.”

Mitzi nodded as her eyebrows fell back into their normal position. She knew how many memories I had of being on the beach with my father. The way we would have to lug half a house down there for him and my mom.

I shook my head. I can’t think about that now.

“Okay, let’s go. How long do you want to go for? And when?” Mitzi said with a nod as she reached out to stroke the arm folded across my chest.

I dropped my arm and leaned back, out of her reach. “For a week and as soon as possible.”

A week later, we were toes-in-sand outside of a beachfront house in Puerto Rico. The sunshine had given my skin a tanned glow, but my mood was still stormy. For the first two days, I cried. I laughed. I screamed at the wind and waves. All along, my friends held my hand when needed and left me alone when I needed that, too.

Despite their help, I was still swirling in the void of grief, grasping at ideas that would pull me out. As I stared out at the ocean, I decided I had been going about this the wrong way. I had been looking for a person to share my life with, a prince for my fairytale life. But life had handed me two non-fairytale endings. What was I to do now?

The salty air delivered the answers. It was time to stop looking for a fantasy and start living in reality.

I turned to collect the girls from their beach chairs. I was hungry, so we headed down the shore to a beachside restaurant for lunch.

As we walked, I said, “I just had an epiphany on the beach.”

“Really, what was it?” Cynthia asked.

“Cancer shouldn’t steal all the joy. And I need to forget the fantasy and live in reality,” I said as I stared ahead, walking the line in the sand.

“What do you mean?” Mitzi raised her eyebrows as she glanced over at me.

“I can’t be the person who believes in legends and codes of conduct. I can’t live in the depths of despair. I need to go out and have fun while I can with real people. You know, carpe diem , stop worrying about tomorrow because there are no guarantees.” We had arrived at the restaurant. I turned around, and both Cynthia and Mitzi were staring at me with open mouths.

“Ads, I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now,” Mitzi said as she folded her arms across her chest. Cynthia stood next to her, shaking her head.

At that moment, the hostess walked up.

Saved by the bell, err, person.

When we sat down, I refused to discuss my new insight any further. I was all action now. I ordered a Pi?a Colada to go with my beans and rice. I was twenty-one, and I figured my new plan involved some alcohol.

As we finished our food and paid our bill, I stared down the beach on a hunt—a hot guy hunt. It didn’t take long to find my prey—wavy black hair, sun-darkened skin, and a ripped, muscular body. He was wearing only a blue swimsuit and flip-flops.

I took a final swig of my Pi?a Colada for liquid courage. The fruity coconut slush didn’t burn as it flowed down my throat. Instead, the warmth mellowed me. “I wonder what his lips would feel like? This is the night I find out!” I declared, to the shock of Mitzi and Cynthia.

I left the girls open-mouthed at the table, watching me stride right up to him. I asked him to come get a Pi?a Colada with me.

“I’d love to, Carina ,” he responded.

I’m sure he told me his name, but I didn’t care. All I saw was his never-ending chocolate brown eyes giving me a once over, ignoring my friends as they caught up to me.

His friends suggested another beachside bar we hadn’t been to yet. So we packed up and joined them there. We sat at the largest table they had. We chatted, laughed, and danced the afternoon away. We talked about Puerto Rico’s history, about marine life, and more. We ate fish tacos for dinner, and I drank another Pi?a Colada .

Dad and Wyatt didn’t enter my mind once.

So when he asked me to follow him to a more private place, I followed him. And that’s where I found out what his lips felt like.

We were kissing on a secluded section of the beach behind some rocks. His tongue swiped across my lips and into my mouth, attempting to teach me a new language. The lingering taste of pineapple and coconut remained when we broke apart for a moment.

“Adelaide,” he whispered in my ear with his intoxicating accent. “Let me hear you say my name.”

Umm...

My mind had a blank spot where his name should be. I felt like the miller’s daughter in “ Rumpelstiltskin ,” locked in a tower. The strange man had appeared to help me get out, but I had to figure out his name or else.

An awkward silence ensued. My Puerto Rican hottie stepped away from me and asked, “ Carina, do you even remember my name?”

I looked down at the sand for answers. Surely, someone or something there could help me out.

“ Diego, mi nombre es Diego ,” he supplied as he turned and stalked off.

A few silent tears escaped from my eyes as I watched him walk away.

Well, I’m glad no one saw that—Dad is going to kill me...

And that’s when the void swelled, engulfing the pleasantness of the afternoon.

Daddy.

My daddy is gone.

The pain I didn’t want to acknowledge came rushing back in, threatening to overtake me.

I thought I was on the right track. I thought I was starting something that would help me escape. He... well, let’s just say that those moments of kissing Diego weren’t enough to light the darkness. The pain still sat there, threatening to swallow anything good in my heart. A kiss, even a passionate one, wasn’t enough to keep the pain at bay.

There has to be a way out of this…

I walked back to the girls, head down. Back at the bar, I saw Diego dancing with a different girl, completely ignoring the fact that I was there.

Can this night get any worse?

I searched for something, anything, that would give me a break. And that’s when the gleam of the lacquered bar top caught my eye.

If one Pi?a Colada dulled the edges of the void and two relaxed me, what would three do?

That fateful night, I discovered that three Pi?a Coladas diminished the pull of the sucking black hole in my heart. What’s worse, I discovered drinking even more led to a few blissful hours away from the painful lack that was eating me up.

Granted, the blackout, followed by a headache, nausea, shame, and regret I felt the next day, made me question if it was all worth it. But at that time, simply wanted to forget a part of me was missing, even if it was only for a few hours.

Even if it meant not being in control of what I was doing.