Cure for the Common Breakup by Beth Kendrick

“Toodle-oo.”
    Celeste stomped off, hammer in hand, and left her sun hat abandoned on the rug.
    Summer stared after her. “What was that all about?”
    Marla picked up the hat, dusted it off, and placed it on a hook next to the front door. “What was what, dear?”
    â€œWhere’s she going with that hammer? Why are you holding her cell phone hostage?”
    Marla shrugged. “Hotel policy. I make all the guests surrender their phone when they check in. It prevents backsliding.”
    â€œBacksliding,” Summer echoed.
    â€œBegging, pleading, threatening.” Marla ticked these off on her fingers. “Regrettable calls and texts at three a.m.” She smiled up at Summer and held out her palm. “Speaking of which, dear, if you’d be so kind . . .”
    Summer clutched her purse strap protectively. “You want my cell phone?”
    â€œJust for a few days.”
    â€œYou can’t have it. I’m very important. And busy. I’m getting calls from my employer, the media—people need to be able to reach me.”
    Marla didn’t argue. She just stood there, smiling, with her palm outstretched.
    â€œLook, I get that you don’t know me, but I don’t backslide. When I’m done with a man, I’m
done
with him.” She swallowed hard. “And I definitely don’t beg.”
    Marla’s smile softened. “What’s his name, dear?”
    Summer swallowed again. “He, uh . . . You’ve probably seen him on TV over the last few days. He’s the . . .” She couldn’t force the word “pilot” out, let alone “Aaron.” “Can I have some water, please?”
    Marla bustled off to the kitchen and returned with a glass of pink lemonade. “I’ll take that cell phone now.”
    Summer sighed and surrendered the lifeline that kept her tethered to the hope that, any minute now, Aaron would come to his senses and reach out to her. Apologize. Repent. Beg her to take him back.
    Decide that she was worth loving.
    â€œTake good care of her,” Summer said as Marla locked the phone in the drawer.
    â€œI’ll love it like it was my own,” Marla promised. “And if you need to make calls, you’re welcome to do so. In the common areas. Under supervision.”
    Summer took one tiny sip of the cold, delicious lemonade and almost gagged. Her body wanted nothing to do with food or drink right now. “So this is like breakup boot camp?”
    â€œMm-hmm. With homemade blueberry muffins for breakfast.”
    Summer suppressed another gag. “And what’s with the hammer?”
    â€œWe have a storage room in the basement. A few years ago, I asked Theo to put some hammers and nails down there for the guests. There’s something about swinging a hammer that really helps you start to heal from a bad breakup. Local contractors drop off old bricks and tile. The smashing can be very therapeutic.”
    â€œI bet.” She would have to give it a try, right after she took a four-day nap.
    â€œWould you like to take a whack at it, so to speak?”
    â€œNo, I’m okay.” Summer hadn’t realized how exhausted she was, but now that she’d settled into the sofa cushions, she couldn’t seem to get up.
    â€œMaybe you’d like to try the yoga and meditation class later,” Marla suggested. “Or kickboxing. We’ve got something for everyone.”
    â€œMmm.” Summer’s eyelids drooped.
    â€œMaybe after a little rest.”
    Summer let her cheek rest against the embroidered fabric of a pillow. “Mmm-kay.”
    â€œTell you what.” Marla’s voice sounded very far away. “I’ll just have Theo take your suitcase up to your room and you can set a spell right here. Where are your bags, pumpkin?”
    â€œCar.” Summer used her last remaining stores of energy to fish her keys out of her