Our remaining days together were a blur of liaisons, odd jobs around the resort, and taking long walks. The day Bambi and I left, I cried as I drove off, refusing to look in the rearview mirror as I left the place that had helped me heal. Even Bambi, usually so intent on hanging out the window, had curled up into a sad furry ball on the backseat. At least I had Jet’s cell phone number, and he had mine.
When Bambi and I arrived home, it was dreary and the rain was coming down in sheets. It was a far cry from the magical place we’d been, that cocoon of bliss I’d had to leave behind to make sure I could stand on my own two feet, and that my feelings for Jet were the real deal.
While Bambi moped around the loft, I rifled through my mail, then did some laundry. The cupboard was practically ba
