I blew out a breath, my chest tightening in the already humid air. “You don’t have anything else?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“But I had reservations.”

“I’m very sorry. We had a hiccup in the system. Since it said your check-in was yesterday, we gave your room to those on standby,” he tried to explain and imperceptibly nodded toward the secondary line full of impatient guests. “We’re at max capacity.”

I pressed my lips together. There was no point in arguing or yelling. This wasn’t his fault, and the situation was what it was, but shit, this was bad. “Can you let me know if anything opens up tonight?”

Even for eight hundred a night. Damn, Sam and April were not a cheap couple.

“Of course. Please enjoy a complimentary drink at the bar for the inconvenience,” he added, slipping a drink voucher across the counter.

The look on my face must’ve conveyed a much lower level of patience, or maybe just the right amount since so many were getting visibly upset around me. Some had even started muttering and one man became loudly irate. In any case, the manager slid a few more vouchers toward me.

I thanked him. He was kind and worked within his limits, and I wasn’t a jackass. I was, however, going to break the bank at this rate. Easing away, leaving the crowded lobby, I was immediately met by a balcony-style enclosed lounge overlooking lush gardens with vibrant blooms, a manicured lawn with a generous pool beyond, and in the near distance, the ocean. The ocean breeze swept up and into my nostrils, soothing any irritation.

It could be worse.

Sitting at the bar and furiously looking up every hotel in the vicinity—which honestly wasn’t a lot, but then again, this wasn’t a city—I ordered a drink and began making calls.

One after another. Everyone was booked.

“Why’s it so busy?” I asked the bartender.

“Ironman,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

“What’s that?”

“The worldwide championship triathlon. Brings in thousands of visitors, athletes, and spectators to the island.”

Talk about bad timing. The couple had been so careful to plan around holidays and times that were inconvenient for their guests and wedding party, yet here we were.

Not to worry. Surely someone wasn’t coupled or rooming with another person and could spare some space. Maybe?

Who would I ask? Sam was definitely a no. He might’ve had his own room, seeing that the bride wanted the bridal suite to herself to relax in and get ready at before they met again as a married couple, but I couldn’t crash with the groom. He was probably stressing out and had a detailed itinerary down to the minute. He was one of the most particular men I’d ever known, a perfectionist to heart.

Aamar, the best man, was here with Maya, his girlfriend and the maid of honor, and they probably wouldn’t like having a third wheel during what was most likely a romantic getaway for them.

The only person left was…

My ex was here somewhere. Sejal, who always found a way to remind me that my emotional range was about as robotic as the coding I wrote. She’d wanted me to be a grand gesture type of guy. But she equated my level of devotion to how many roses were left on her workplace desk, the amount spent on gifts, or whirlwind surprise weekend getaways.

“It’s social media; people try to look perfect,” I’d told her. “Life isn’t that romantic.” (I’d learned that wasn’t ever the right thing to say.)

“Romance takes effort!”

“Then tell me what to do and I’ll try.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you!”

I’d tried, although according to Sejal, I hadn’t tried hard enough. What my ex wanted was a romance book lead: someone who knew what the hell he was doing and did it well.

“Ever think maybe she just didn’t inspire you?” Sam had once asked me.

The thought had boggled my mind. But I’d loved her; why wouldn’t she inspire me? And if she, a woman I’d been with for years who had woven herself into the very fabric of my family and life, didn’t inspire me, then no one could.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I was dead inside. A robot better suited for typing out millions of lines of letters and numbers and symbols to make something from nothing, a digital hunter of 404s. Not a person meant to show affection.

I’d known all along she’d be here. Sejal was April’s close friend and a bridesmaid. I was Sam’s close friend and a groomsman. He’d checked with me to make sure I would be okay with the arrangement, but what was I supposed to say? No, have the bride take her out of the wedding party?

Bracing for her presence only added to my anxiety.

I threw back the last of my drink. The sour burned down my throat. I should probably eat something or else I was about to be drunk without a room to crash in.

Back to making more calls, this time with hotels in Kona. The closest, and largest, nearby town was a good forty-minute drive. Which meant I’d have to get a rental car of my own.

The few people around the bar shuffled out.

I groaned and glanced at the pool, my gaze drifting toward a woman two seats down the counter. I hadn’t noticed her before because a behemoth of a man was sitting in between us, but I noticed her now. It was hard not to see her with her nose in her tablet feverishly reading away and sipping a tall, iced glass of what was probably water or clear soda.

That pulled-back purple hair.

Those sweatpants.

Bane. In the frumpy-ass flesh.

Five Bhanu

I groaned underneath my breath, catching up on as much as I could with the real-time program we used for mind-mapping and assignment cards. Who was in charge of site-mapping in my absence? I couldn’t find a single digital notecard. Also, where had the drafts gone for the new site page? Gabrielle wouldn’t…would she? I’d never been blocked in my life.

Okay, whew! I was in, but why was everything moving so slowly?

In Asana (our project tracking program essential for agile methodologies), I checked for any assignment movement. The kanban board, where overall tasks were delegated in the form of digital cards organized by columns, hadn’t changed, aside from adding Gabrielle in lieu of my place. There were about three to six oval profiles of each researcher assigned to a card. Some cards, more detailed or smaller assignments, had one or two profiles responsible for the task. The scrum board was similar, tacked on with additional labels and deadlines, although two assignments had been recycled for the next project. The roadmap, however, showed actual progress in the way of graphs. There was movement there. No red labels showing urgent attention.

All was good. The only problem, since this was a real-time program, was that others could see if I was live (aka logged in). If I made a single change, my name/profile would be time-stamped in the card’s history. Here’s hoping Gabrielle wouldn’t actually lock me out during my vacation. Still, I had to be careful. Hmm, maybe with the time difference I should wait until later.

Slurping my ice-cold water after a tasty but overtly sweet coconut concoction, I pondered on what to do with the rest of my day.

It had been a wonderful, peaceful five days of vacation filled with different scenery across the massive lot of hotels, family fun and great eats with Kimo and his family, and the usual going here and there for my favorite foods. Since Diya worked most of her regular hours and I had no intention of driving, I caught up on reading poolside or on the beach, and worked up the nerve to swim in the lagoon. And by swim, I mean get deep enough that my feet didn’t touch the ocean floor without freaking out. I could swim, but the current paired with small waves and knowing there was plenty of marine life in the water kept me on edge. I was not here to die.

A nap sounded nice right about now. I rubbed my eyes, nearly knocking over my glass. I caught it just in time. I didn’t care if my clothes got wet, but not my device! Not today!

It was then, when I gingerly set my partially full glass of water away from my tablet, that I noticed a man watching me. My heart raced at the first flicker of recognition because no way. No mother-freaking way was my work nemesis sitting two seats away from me on my vacation.

That thick, disheveled hair, short-sleeved button-down shirt with the top button undone, shorts, sandals…looking all kinds of nerdy tourist. The only thing missing was a camera hanging around his neck and a dollop of sunscreen on his nose.

The intensity of his dark brown eyes beneath perpetually furrowed brows settled on me in a way that said he’d made a point to ensure I knew that he’d noticed me. My shoulders slumped forward, giving me that weird crane-neck look with my chin in the air. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. The devil was real, and he meant to torture me.