The Elephant In the Room
1185 Words
Jordan sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in a plush hotel bathrobe, towel-drying her hair after a long, steamy shower. The ocean breeze filtered in through the open balcony doors, carrying with it the briny scent of saltwater and freedom. She had just finished twisting her damp hair into a loose bun when a firm, purposeful knock echoed through the room.
She padded over and peered through the peephole. Her breath caught.
Jake.
He stood there, as composed and confident as ever.
“Hey,” he said, stepping past her into the room. He walked with such determination, it uneased her. “We need to talk.”
Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Talk?”
“Yeah,” he said, striding further in. “We should probably address the elephant in the room.”
Her stomach clenched as her mind darted in all directions. Was he talking about her wedding ring? Or his marriage to Mrs. Strawberry-Blonde?
Then he bent down and plucked the towel elephant off the bed, holding it up with a grin.
“This little guy,” he said, chuckling. “Whoever folded this deserves a raise.”
Jordan rolled her eyes, but a laugh slipped out despite herself. “You think you're pretty funny.”
“I don't think it, I know it,” Jake teased.
The air shifted—electric, heavy, intimate.
He moved toward her with purpose, cupping her face gently in his hands. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, and then he murmured, “I can’t keep my hands off you.”
And then he kissed her.
Soft at first. Then deeper, hungrier, his tongue tracing hers with desire. Her hips answered before her brain caught up, tilting toward him with instinct and longing.
He pulled back just long enough to untie her robe.
“My God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, eyes roaming her with reverence and need.
She let the robe fall to the floor.
What are you doing, Jordan? Pick it back up. Her inner voice screamed. But she silenced it.
With Jake, the usual tide of self-doubt receded. The constant hum of insecurity dulled into something quiet. Something almost... peaceful.
Worthy of love, she dared to think.
You’re too old for this crap, her inner critic hissed.
She almost reached for the robe, but Jake seemed to sense it. He kicked it aside and scooped her into his arms like a man with every intention of making her forget the rest of the world.
He laid her gently on the bed, climbing over her as the rest of the room disappeared.
The night unraveled in a blur of whispered words and tangled limbs. She fell asleep with her head on his chest, the last thing she remembered was having his lips on her forehead and his voice—barely above a whisper—saying, “Good night, sweetheart.”
Jake woke first. The early sunlight painted golden streaks across the bed. He watched her sleep for a moment—peaceful, radiant—then slipped out quietly. In the kitchenette, he brewed a pot of the Hawaiian blend she loved.
As he reached for the mugs, a splash of white caught his eye—a bouquet of lilies on the counter. Nestled between the blooms, a small card.
Curious, he plucked it out.
Love you more, Caleb.
To his surprise, the words hit him like a punch to the gut.
His jaw clenched, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. He placed the steaming coffee on the nightstand with quiet care, then turned, walked to the door, and left without a sound.
Jordan stirred sometime later, replaying the night in her mind. Had she really just spent the night with Jake Everett?
She ran her fingers over her lips, still tingling from his kiss.
Tossing the duvet aside, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, feeling both giddy and nervous.
She spotted the cup of coffee on the nightstand and took a sip. Still warm.
He must’ve just left, she thought, a flicker of disappointment passing through her. She would’ve loved to wake up beside him.
In the bathroom, she caught her reflection and smiled. Not bad for an old lady.
She eventually settled on a strapless sundress that hugged her curves just right, paired with beige sandals. After one last glance in the mirror, she headed to the lobby to meet the other volunteers.
She needed the distraction. Something about Jake’s sudden disappearance didn’t sit right.
Brooklyn greeted her with a wave so enthusiastic it nearly qualified as cardio.
“Jordan! Just the person I needed. But first—how’s it going? Anything exciting happen last night?”
Was that an innocent question, or did Brooklyn know that Jake had spent the night in her room?
Jordan forced a smile. “Yeah, everything’s been great so far.”
Then she saw her.
The woman she’d spotted holding hands with Jake on her first day at the resort. Even more beautiful up close—tall, effortlessly toned, dressed in pink yoga pants and a crop top, her strawberry-blonde hair pinned in a messy bun. Designer sunglasses. Radiating “yoga goddess with a side of luxury.”
She was animatedly chatting with two little boys, both around five or six, who watched her like she hung the moon.
Jordan kept her voice casual. “Hey Brooklyn, who’s the woman by the pool talking to the kids?”
Brooklyn followed her gaze. “Oh! That’s Mrs. Everett. She teaches yoga and hula dancing here. You have to try one of her classes. Seriously, life-changing.” She wiggled her hips in a playful imitation of the hula.
Jordan swallowed hard. “Noted. Are the kids hers?”
Brooklyn shook her head. “Nope. The Everetts don’t have kids.” She leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Rumor is, they don’t want them.”
Then she straightened. “Honestly, they’re great with kids. But that’s not a good enough reason to have them, right?”
Jordan nodded, trying desperately to keep her expression neutral while her mind spun.
Brooklyn handed her a list. “Hey hon, could you grab coffee for the volunteers? The café isn’t far. They’ll love you for it.”
“Of course,” Jordan said, grateful for the errand.
She balanced a tray of coffees, weaving her way through the resort grounds when she spotted him—Jake—sitting in a golf cart, phone pressed to his ear, dressed in crisp golf attire.
He looked... thinner. Or maybe it was just the distance between them, suddenly unfamiliar and cold.
She walked over and handed him a cup. “For you.”
He took it with a nod. “Thanks,” he said, his tone polite, distant.
Then he turned back to his call.
Jordan stood there for a second too long, hoping for... something. A smile. A glance. Anything.
But he was already gone.
As he drove away, a knot twisted in her stomach. Something had shifted.
And she had no idea how to fix it.
- Writer
