Catalina and Diego never got over each other after high school, but years later they meet by chance, and multi-millionaire Diego sweeps her off of her feet.
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Diego and Catali...
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For five years, I'd thought of New York as home, tried to push the tropical island of Palmira and my family's little beige ranch house into the past. I embraced the city life. I walked fast, talked fast, took the subway. Raved about tall buildings and gray skies.
Now that I'm back and smelling the night jasmine, hearing the waves of the Gulf of Mexico, I feel both nostalgic and trapped. All of the people I've talked to tonight run through my mind. They all seem happy. They appear happy, at least. Diego, Scott, Amber. Sawyer, Liam. Jessica. They all have their shit together.
I'm the only unemployed loser who wants to escape from an island paradise. But I have nowhere to go.
"Hey." I walk into the kitchen and immediately pour myself a glass of sweet tea. I gulp it down.
My mom grunts from the living room. She doesn't seem to sleep at night anymore, not since Dad died. And while she hadn't exactly been stress-free when he was alive, now she's turned into another person. A ball of nerves and anxiety, all because of stupid money.
I'm not even sure my dad's life insurance policy even put a dent in my parents' debt. I haven't dared ask because I haven't gotten over the fact that part of the reason why they were in so much debt was because they paid for my college. In cash, straight from their retirement savings. And, as I found out, they'd taken out a second mortgage on the house.
They'd paid for my school out of pocket. Had to, because the big scholarship from the town tourism council, the one I won my senior year that would have covered two years of tuition, was revoked.
All because of my naked selfies.
Not the image we want to project for the island, Ms. Richardson. We wish you well in your schooling, the terse letter said.
I feel the guilt every time I look at my mom. Now that Dad's gone, she usually hunkers in her bed during the day when she's not helping my brother at the restaurant. Stays up half the night playing poker on her iPad in the semi-darkness. The TV is always on, with the sound down. Usually, she watches shows about hoarders.
It's depressing as hell.
When I got laid off from the website, it seemed to make sense to return to Palmira. I'd live rent-free and thought coming home to live for a while would help Mom. I don't think it has. And every night, I see her slumped in the recliner, swiping and pressing on the screen, I get more upset and feel like fleeing.
"I feel gross. I'm exhausted. Headed to bed." I plant a kiss on her forehead, and she looks up and closes the iPad cover. I think about telling her that I saw Diego, but I'm not sure how she'll react. Since it's the first time she's ripped herself away from her screen for a few days, I don't say a word.
"Love you, baby," she whispers. "You have mascara on your cheeks."
