Chapter 12 - The Missing Boat
For twelve hours, everyone assumed Rodrigo had run.
He hadn't.
The truth was almost embarrassingly ordinary.
He had taken the boat offshore alone.
The engine failed.
The Coast Guard assisted after another vessel reported him.
He returned safely.
Angry.
Humiliated.
And somehow still convinced everyone else was responsible.
I learned about it from Monica.
“Please tell me you aren't laughing.”
“I'm trying very hard not to.”
“Daniela.”
“He stole my vacation money for a boat business and then got stranded on a boat.”
“Don't say that near a reporter.”
“I know.”
Rodrigo attended the hearing.
The judge finalized our divorce.
Eight years ended in less than twenty minutes.
I expected fireworks inside myself.
There were none.
Just quiet.
Outside, I called my mother.
“It's done.”
She cried.
I didn't.
Not until that night.
Then I cried for the marriage I thought I'd had.
For the man I thought Rodrigo was.
For the version of myself who worked overtime believing we were building something together.
And when the tears stopped, I slept.
Really slept.
For nine hours.
The next morning, I booked a flight.
Destin.
Again.
Same resort.
Same oceanfront suite category.
This time I paid with my own card.
My own money.
My own reservation.
Nobody knew the password.
When I arrived, the woman at reception recognized my name.
Her expression changed.
I smiled.
“Please don't.”
She laughed.
“Understood.”
I walked upstairs.
Opened the balcony door.
Listened to the ocean.
No chore schedule.
No dirty dishes.
No husband telling me what I could afford.
I ordered lunch.
Then something unexpected happened.
Lauren texted.
I'm in Destin too.
I laughed.
Why?
Returning keys to the rental. George lost it.
I hesitated.
Then typed:
Want lunch?
An hour later, we sat across from each other overlooking the Gulf.
Life was strange.
“You know,” Lauren said, “this is the vacation we should've had.”
“Without the husbands?”
She raised her glass.
“Apparently.”
We laughed.
Then she became serious.
“George took a plea agreement.”
I nodded.
Rodrigo's legal matters were still being handled separately from our divorce, and I had deliberately stopped obsessing over every development.
For months, his choices had occupied my entire life.
I was finished giving him free rent inside my head.
Lauren understood.
So we talked about other things.
Work.
Her plans.
My promotion.
The ocean.
Then a waiter approached.
“Ms. Morales?”
“Yes?”
“Someone left this at the front desk for you.”
An envelope.
No return address.
Inside was a cashier's check.
$2,850.
Exactly what Rodrigo had taken from my vacation account.
And a note.
Two words:
I'm sorry.
Lauren looked at me.
“Rodrigo?”
Probably.
I stared at the check.
Then smiled.
“Too late.”
But I deposited it anyway.
May you like
An apology doesn't erase a debt.
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