As the Dawn Breaks Page 3

  Rolling over, I do a quick reassessment of my body: cramping feet—check, aching back—check, sore boobs—check, and a smiling face—check. I fall asleep quickly, despite my sea monkey practicing her ballroom techniques in my womb.

  For the first time in forever, I wake up before my alarm clock screams its annoying, high-pitched cry at me. Swinging my legs over the side of the mattress, I slide down until my toes hit the cool, tiled floor. One thing I quickly learned about living in an ocean-side resort town is most of the homes don’t have carpet in them. So many people travel back and forth to the beach, it didn’t take them long to figure out sand is much more easily removed from a hard surface than the fibers of soft carpet. Even in the mansions and mini-mansions scattered about, they typically have imported tiles and exquisite hardwoods covering the floors, which in my line of work, I get to see quite frequently.

  Clumsily shuffling to the bathroom, I flip the light switch and gasp at the reflection staring back at me. Evident by the dark smudges around my eyes, I obviously fell asleep without bothering to remove my makeup, but that’s not what has me fighting back the tears.

  A stretch mark.

  My first stretch mark.

  Standing in just my hipsters, I step closer to the mirror and hone my stare in on the jagged white line that extends about two inches, now clearly visible on the right side of my abdomen. I’m afraid to touch it, fearing it will spread like a crack in a windshield. Twisting slightly, I move my gaze to the prominent linea nigra that begins directly below my nearly non-existent belly button and disappears into the elastic band at the top of my panties. My belly is going to look like a tic-tac-toe board soon.

  I groan aloud, spin around, and turn the shower on. There’s nothing I can do about it now, and I refuse to allow this unwelcome decoration on my body to ruin this day for me. I don’t get out much anymore, other than class and work, and I fully plan on enjoying my day with Leo, not knowing when I’ll actually do something like this again, if ever. I strip out of the single article of clothing I have on and step under the forceful spray, allowing the water to massage my knotted muscles as I lather coconut-lime shower gel all over my body. Just before I turn off the nozzle, I realize I need to shave my legs, a task becoming more and more challenging the larger my stomach grows. At first, I attempt the task while standing up, but I quickly abandon that idea and plop down on the shower floor to finish the job. By the time I crawl out of the shower—because I’m afraid of slipping and busting my ass if I try to stand up—I’m crying with laughter. Only I can make the simple act of shaving look like an audition for Cirque du Soleil.

  Using the countertop as a crutch to pull myself to my feet, I dry myself thoroughly before disappearing back into my bedroom. Prior to getting dressed, I text Leo asking him what hotel he’s at and to let him know I’ll pick him up in an hour. Now, I must figure out what to wear. Digging through my swimsuits, I realize all I have are bikinis from last summer. I haven’t even thought about heading down to the beach this season, so I haven’t bothered buying a maternity suit. Panicked, I snag my phone from the bed and call my sister.

  “Maddy, I need a swimsuit. Now!” I yell into the phone the moment she answers.

  “Well, good morning to you too, Trys. Yes, I’m doing great. Thanks for asking,” she replies sarcastically.

  “Oh, shut up. This isn’t a business call,” I retort, still sifting through drawer. “I’m desperate. I’m supposed to pick a friend up in less than an hour for a day at the beach, and all I have are my old bathing suits. There’s no way my ass or boobs are fitting into any of these.”

  She laughs heartily through the piece of technology I’m about to chunk across the room. “Please stop laughing and tell me you have something I can borrow. Stores don’t open in time for me to buy one.” I’m now full-fledged whining, but I don’t care. If I have to pull out the waterworks, I will.

  “I’m sure I’ve got something here you can wear. I’ll go pull out what I can find. Are you gonna stop by here on your way?”

  “Yes! Thank you. I love you. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” I quickly hang up so I can finish getting ready.

  I opt to sweep my long, bleached blonde tresses into a high ponytail, and then apply a thin coat of waterproof mascara and a dab of cherry gloss to my naturally ruby lips. After pinching my ivory cheeks to draw color to them, I scurry to my closet to find a cute sundress. I pull out a thin cotton maxi dress that fades from a burnt orange where it touches my feet, up to a pale yellow at the shoulders. I bought this dress when I first found out I was expecting, still thinking in my head I’d be hanging out regularly with my friends throughout the pregnancy, but that vision just hasn’t come to fruition. The further along I get, the less and less I hear from any of them. However, I’m thrilled to have a reason to wear it today.

  Hurriedly, I throw on some panties and a bra, then step into the dress and twirl around in front of my full-length mirror, admiring my cuteness. Yep, I said it. I look cute for the first time in at least three months, big belly and all. Sliding my feet into my flip-flops, I grab my always-ready beach bag filled with towels, lotions, and other miscellaneous beach items from the back of my closet before leaving. As I pick up my coin purse and keys from the table next to the door, I realize I forgot to brush my teeth. Stupid pregnancy brain. Huffing, I drop all of my stuff and rush back to the bathroom to rid myself of nasty morning breath. Not that I plan on getting kissed today or anything.

  My sister—my savior on numerous occasions—is waiting for me as I pull into her driveway, thank God. I’m so glad she lives right down the road, even if she is the reason I moved to Sunny Isles and subsequently ended up in my current condition. The front door flies open before I even have a chance to knock or ring the bell, and Madison’s standing there with her hands on her hips and a huge smile stretched across her face.

  “Look at you!” she exclaims. “I haven’t seen you this dressed up in forever. Is this a date?”

  “No, not a date,” I explain, kissing her cheek as I walk past her into the house. “There’s a guy here in town I met at the wedding last night, and I’m showing him around today. He goes home, wherever that is, in a couple of days.” I know there’s no point in lying to her. She’ll find out one way or another; plus, it’s nice having someone to confide everything in.

  She waggles her brows in an over-exaggerated way. “Ooh la la. A vacation romance.”

  I roll my eyes, sighing at her dramatics. “No, Madison, there’s no romance. He’s here for his friend’s wedding and just asked me to show him around. I haven’t left my condo for anything other than school or work in months, and that was even before Douchebag left the country. I just want to have a little fun before everything really changes in my life.”

  “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I was only teasing you, little sister,” she says sympathetically. “Come back into my room; I’ve laid out a couple for you to try on.”

  All of her swimsuits are bikinis as well, but at least the tops cover my nipples and the bottoms don’t look like makeshift thongs. I haven’t gained all that much weight, despite my spreading hips, expanding breasts, and round basketball-belly, but now it’s all disbursed in different areas. Growing up with the body of a gymnast, I’m slowly learning how to embrace my new curves. I try on each of the options for Madison and get her opinion. I know she notices my new stretch mark, but like a good sister, she doesn’t mention it. Finally, we both agree on the solid black one with a halter-style top and bottoms with string-ties on the side. I’m still unsure how I’m going to feel prancing around the beach with my stomach bare for everyone to see, but for now, I’m telling myself I don’t care what anyone else thinks.

  Slipping my dress on top of the suit, I thank her again for saving me and hug her goodbye. “I love ya, sis. I’ll call you later.”

  “Please let me know when you get home. I’m a tiny bit worried about you hanging out with a complete stranger,” she calls out to me as I’m climbing in my r
ed GTI.

  I pause before sliding all the way in. “Yes, Mommy,” I mock. “Do I have a curfew too?”

  She waves her hand in front of her face, dismissing my ridiculous comment before retreating back into her house. “Have fun, brat!”

  “That’s the plan, Maddy. That’s the plan,” I mumble to myself as I back out of the driveway and steer towards the Acqualina resort. My only concern is I’m not quite sure I remember what having fun feels like.

  PROMPTLY AT TEN O’CLOCK, I pull up under the elegant porte-cochere at the resort Leo’s staying at, and I’m pleased to see him lingering outside the main entrance. He looks even more gorgeous than I remember, dressed in navy board shorts, a heather gray t-shirt, and flip-flops. During the short drive over, I wondered what the proper protocol was—if I should park and wait inside the lobby for him, text him when I arrived, or something completely different—but thankfully, I don’t have to worry about any of those scenarios. I bring the car to a stop directly in front of where he waits leaning up against one of the chunky apricot-colored pillars. He crouches down to peer inside the passenger window, I assume to make sure it’s me and not some random female trying to pick him up, which with the way he looks right now, I could definitely see being a possibility.

  I grin widely and wave at him through the glass like the complete dork I am, and much to my delight, he mimics the silly behavior prior to opening the door and sliding into the car. We hit our first snafu immediately as his mile-long legs uncomfortably scrunch up in the floorboard. After trial-and-error with every lever and button on the seat, we eventually get the damn thing to glide backwards, allowing him enough room, but not before we cause a traffic jam with the numerous top-of-the-line luxury vehicles behind us, and by the time we finally drive away from the posh hotel, we’re both doubled over with laughter.

  “Now that’s how to start a date,” Leo teases once we’re both able to breathe normally again.

  “Too bad we’re not on a date,” I playfully quip back.

  “Tell yourself whatever’ll make you feel better, Miss Trystan, but we’re definitely on a date.” I feel his stare on me, his eyes roaming up and down my body, and as much as I want to look over at him, I continue to keep my gaze on the road.

  I’m not quite sure how to respond, so I don’t. Instead, I begin to tell him what I have in store for him during my day as his tour guide—emphasis on tour guide. “I’m not sure how many days you’ve been in town, but I’m assuming you’ve done the beach thing out in front of your resort and the fancy dining in the restaurants around there, so I’m taking you somewhere a little off the beaten path, a place that’s a bit more calm and relaxing.”

  “That’s perfect. Not only have I been confined to the area around the Acqualina the past few days, I actually live in an ocean-side resort village not too different than this. Don’t get me wrong; I realize I’m lucky as hell to wake up in a tropical paradise every morning, but a change of pace is not only welcome, but needed,” he explains.

  He hasn’t taken his focus off of me, and I finally give in to the urge to look over at him. The second my eyes catch his, the same quivering feeling in my abdomen returns from the night before and I internally curse myself. Damn it, Trys. Stop overthinking this. You’re never gonna see this guy after today; not to mention, you’re pregnant with someone else’s baby.

  “Where are you from?” I ask, turning into the parking lot of Epicure Market and Grill.

  He hesitates a moment before answering, almost as if he’s contemplating telling me the truth. “I was born in Italy, but my mom and I immigrated to the states when I was two. I grew up in Jersey until I moved to the city in my twenties. I recently relocated to a small island in the Adriatic Sea.”

  “Wow, the Adriatic Sea? That’s impressive. I’ve never lived outside the state of Florida.”

  After I park the car, we both climb out and make our way towards the entrance. I notice him eyeing the outdoor market inquisitively, and I realize he must think this is where I’m taking him for our excursion. Not that Epicure isn’t absolutely incredible—I could spend hours upon hours here—but it’s not necessarily a place I would bring an out-of-town visitor for a fun day out.

  “We’re going to have a light breakfast at the restaurant inside here, and then grab some drinks and snacks for our real destination,” I clarify.

  He nods with a smile and reaches for my hand. “I’m going wherever you take me today, Miss Trystan.”

  My initial reaction to his fingers interlaced with mine is to pull them away, but I don’t want to be rude, and I mean, look at the guy. Plus, I’m genuinely surprised with how nice it feels. Nice…and natural. Brandt was never a big fan of PDA when we were together, so it was rare that he held my hand in public. I’m shocked Leo wants to walk around like this in front of other people, particularly with my expectant state. Surely he realizes people will assume he’s the father.

  “Why do you call me Miss Trystan?” I ask softly.

  “I’m not sure. I guess it’s just an old habit I’m not even conscious of. I can stop if it bothers you.”

  “Not a bother, I was just curious. By the way, most of my friends and family call me Trys,” I explain, giving his hand a light squeeze.

  We briefly pause our conversation to be seated by the hostess, and once we’re settled, I continue my earlier thought. “As I was saying, most people call me Trys, which I guess is a bit more feminine than Trystan, but use whichever you prefer.”

  “I like the name Trystan. It’s different, like you.” He smiles brightly at me.

  “You don’t know anything about me. I could be the most boring person in the world,” I say jokingly.

  “I assure you that you aren’t. Unfortunately, I sat next to him on my lengthy flight here.”

  We both chuckle until the server stops at the table for our food and drink order, and then a comfortable silence settles over us. Seated directly across the table from one another, this is the first chance I’ve had to really study him. His Italian heritage is evident with his short, chocolate brown hair, caramel-colored eyes, and natural olive complexion. He’s got to be at least six-foot-three with a sinewy frame, and he wears a five o’clock shadow like nobody’s business.

  Anxious to learn more about this incredibly sweet, and even better looking stranger, I begin by saying, “Tell me about yourself, Leo. What’s your family like? What do you like to do?”

  Over the rest of breakfast, which I inhale like most other meals these days, we sit peppering questions back and forth until we each have a pretty good basic background on the other. I learn he’s thirty-three, an only child, most definitely a momma’s boy, and loves to cook. In return, he discovers I’m older than he originally thought, learns about my sister and her entire family, and thinks I’m strange because my favorite color is yellow. He tells me all girls like pink or purple, so I teasingly add male chauvinist to his list.

  Before I know it, he’s paid the bill, we’ve gathered snacks and beverages in the market area, and we’re back on the road, on our way to Oleta River State Park. The Mophonics are belting out Happiness is Calling on the radio, warm rays are shining down through the sunroof, my belly is full of good food, and I’ve got a sexy ass guy to spend the day with. I feel absolutely wonderful.

  The drive from Epicure to the park is less than two miles; however, in that short distance, it’s almost as if we’re leaving one world and entering a completely different one. Passing through the gates of Oleta River, a sense of serenity sweeps over me as the peaceful world of tangled, tropical vegetation fills the landscape. As we slowly travel deeper into the park, leaving behind the high-rise condos, S-class Mercedes’, and silicone-filled body parts, I roll down the windows and let the refreshing sea breeze tunnel through the car to caress my skin and blow through my hair.

  “This place is really tranquil,” Leo remarks, taking in the scenery as I park the car.

  “It’s one of my favorite places to escape to, but I haven’t been
in a while.” I pause to climb out of the car and grab my beach bag from the backseat. “There are some amazing trails here for mountain biking and hiking, and they have a place where you can rent canoes, kayaks, and paddleboats right over there,” I continue, nodding my head in the direction of the Blue Moon Outdoor Center. “I thought we could chill out on the beach for a little bit, and then see where the mood takes us. I’m afraid I won’t be doing any strenuous hiking or mountain biking today, though.”

  Nodding with an understanding smile, he takes the bag from my hands, as well as grabs the sacks of groceries from the trunk. “Whatever makes you happy; I’m just along for the ride and the company.”

  Ambling down one of dirt trails, we alternate pointing out different birds, butterflies, and flamboyantly bright-colored flowers. I feel bad he’s carrying everything, but he refuses to let me help. It doesn’t take us too long, even with my slight waddle, to make our way around the curving peninsula to the nearly isolated beach area. I stop to slide my flip-flops off just before I step onto the warm sand. The miniscule granules squish between my toes and I shut my eyes, allowing the reminiscences of childhood family vacations to flood my memory.

  “You’re glowing,” Leo whispers softly into my ear.

  My lids remain closed as I smile and inhale deeply, tasting the salty air laced with hints of citrus and sandalwood from his cologne. “Pregnant women do that, or so I hear,” I joke back as I open my eyes.

  “It’s not just that,” he replies. “This is your element; it’s where you belong.”

  “I hope so. It’s why I’m here.”