3
Idied and was dead for at least a minute before I resurrected. Looking back, it wasn’t just the years of breakups and half-assed apologies. It was how he talked to me, like I was always the one pushing. Like I was the problem for wanting more. He'd call me dramatic if I cried, cold if I didn’t. Gaslighting dressed in tailored shirts and double Windsors.
“Me?” I threw the flowers down.
He pointed at them. “You caught that bouquet like a robot, showing no emotion whatsoever. You never act like you want to marry me anymore.”
Laughing aloud, I sounded insane. I felt insane. People were watching us. It didn’t stop me from raising my voice. “Anymore? How long am I supposed to wait?”
With no response, Chris stood and walked off.
Crossing my arms, I gave Tara a dirty look for good measure and waited until everyone stopped gaping at me before getting up. I watched Chris walk further away from the camp, heading the wrong way. I puffed a breath that made my bangs rise as I watched him pause. Maybe he realized he was heading towardthe trees. At that point, I thought he’d come back, but he didn’t. He kept walking.
“What the hell is he doing?” I said under my breath.
The sun would set within minutes. Our ride was coming. Under my fury, I worried for him. There were dangerous animals about. I grew furious that his stunt took away from my outrage. Even though I’d just put on my heels, I started after him. Power walking, I called out his full name. He stopped and turned around, his white linen shirt wafting, his khakis rolled up, his dark hair a mess from the heat.
Taking a millisecond to gather my thoughts, I summed up everything I wanted to say. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man in Africa.”
Throwing his hands up, he gave me an exasperated look.
He’d given up.
Running, I chased him, tracking his white shirt through the beginnings of a freaking jungle. Chris was my prey. Through unshed tears, I had tunnel vision. Following him over felled trees and rocks, I didn’t want him to be in danger. My eye on the prize, I also ran over everything I wanted to say to Chris. Ten years of grievances balled up inside me, ready to be expelled. I became even more cross, thinking he probably needed another break to explore George’s cousin Tara’s portfolio.
My heart sank as I thought of every one of our breaks when I’d thrown myself into my hobbies, bettering myself. I’d been ignoring the truth. Chris was likely in and out of other women’s beds. Why else do couples need breaks? Not to stay faithful like I’d been. The awful fact kept me from crying. I clung to it even as my ankle twisted beneath me.
I kicked off my heels and scooped them up. Hobbling now, I noticed how dark it’d become and rushed as quickly as I could to limp over to the only light. Moonlight cut through the densevegetation, spotlighting a clearing. I dropped the shoes. My hands shot to my hips as I took in my surroundings.
Well. Fuck.
This was a fucking jungle, all right. Trees, huge leaves, vines, darkness, and plenty of it. It grew scarier by the moment. Where the hell was Chris? And how would I find my way back? All these questions took a back seat to what I saw next, big reflective eyes. Two things happened at once. My muscles became too weak to move and fear froze me anyway.
I was face to face with a tiger.
“Don’t run,” I chanted in my head.
I’d learned the advice never to run in the presence of a big cat in the mountains in America. Not that I’d ever had to use it. Confronted with a motherfucking tiger in the motherfucking jungle in Africa was a scenario I never prepared for. My eyes adjusted enough to see the tiger crouch down, reminding me of my cat, Doodle, when he was about to pounce. This time, instead of a catnip-stuffed mouse, I was the target. And I was stuffed with insides I wanted to keep inside.
I threw up in my mouth.
Then I screamed. As soon as the screech left my throat, I was tackled but not by the tiger. Like out of a dream, an immense, dark figure swung down from the trees and collided with my body, swooping me up in his arms and throwing me over his shoulder. My rescuer ran away from the danger with animalistic agility, all with me dangling down his back. Blood rushed to my head as we zipped through the dark jungle.
4
Light interrupted my slumber, but the grunt woke me. Confusion lingered as my mind replayed a dream. My whole body felt the effects of sleeping on the hard ground as a stark-naked man stood over me. Instantly, I remembered last night like a nightmare, the fear still present. Averting my eyes from his nudity, I tried to move in a lurch. I couldn’t. My wrists were painfully tied together and tethered to a tree. The fact shocked me as much as the tiger had. Still in the white dress, I shuffled around in a fit of fright.
Not able to sit up, my gaze fell to the man again, the figure who swung out of the trees and rescued me, Tarzan style. He didn’t look frightening, per se, but savage all the same. His skin was as light as mine, although golden tanned and dirty as if he’d taken a mud bath and wiped himself halfway. And there was so much of him. I wasn’t just talking about the prominent, ginormous flaccid penis hanging like a hose before me, either.
Yes, he wore a boa around his waist. Muscular, tall, and broad, the man seemed supersized. Long, dark blonde hair hung in crude dreadlocks way past his shoulders, though his face wasclean-shaven. Before I had a moment to think about the odd combination, he spoke.
Sort of.
“Come,” he grunted, pointing to my tied hands.
“Come where? I’m tied up,” I whined.
Saying nothing else, he untethered me from the tree but held the rope attached to my wrists.
