I've never spent the entire day in bed. Not once in my life. But the second I crawled my sorry butt into my room at George and Jane's I haven't left the small room.

As I napped and also layed there tossing and turning regretting my decisions last night I screen a call from my dad as well as Jeremy.

When a text message from Jeremy comes through I don't even open it before I delete it. I have no interest to hear what he has to say. Cheating is cheating to me, no matter how he wants to try to explain it away.

I've set my Instagram to private and have yet to go through all the comments, likes, tags, and friend requests. I will save that for another day when my head doesn't feel like mush.

It's while I'm reading an email from one of my professors accepting my Emergency Leave Request my father initiated, I get a DM notification from Instagram. My headache dissipates momentarily and I feel the butterflies in my belly as a pop up message from Oliver Thomas appears near the top of my screen. I can't tap my screen fast enough and read the message.

O: How are you feeling? Making sure you are still alive.

Me: I'm conscious but clinging to life. I'm never drinking like that again.

O: Lol I've said that thousands of times.

Me: I think I'll leave the drinking to the professionals AKA you and Maggie.

I continue smiling as the notification at the bottom of my screen tells me he's typing and wait for his response.

Last night was an incredibly huge disaster but I am so thankful to have had such a great time with Ollie. For a moment, excluding all the alcohol, it was like we were back to being friends.

I rub my tired sore eyes and place my glasses back to my face still watching the signal at the bottom blinking the word typing

Sheesh, is he writing a novel?

After another long minute he finally sends the message.

O: Well I hope you had fun.

That's it? Five words? After nearly writing for three minutes he managed to get out five words?

I set my phone back down on the end table and glare at the floral pink wallpapered ceiling. Suddenly irritated.

My phone vibrates again and my heart beats wildly out of my chest so I sit up a little too fast and snatch my phone, fixing my glasses on my face. My excitement plummets when I see I have a text message from my dad. Before I throw my phone I stand and leave the bedroom altogether.

I came here to get away from my horrible father and yet he still is controlling every aspect in my life. I know for a fact my dad and Jeremy are talking about me and how I'm throwing my future away.

My frustration drives me through the lush home and I only realize I've made it to the back door when I see Jane reclined on a sun chair with a book in hand and a sun hat and glasses to keep the bright sun from her eyes in the back garden.

I need some motherly advice and since mine is still in New York, I open the sliding glass door and step onto the brick landing feeling the warmed bricks under the pads of my bare feet. I'm still dressed in my sweats but join her on the free chaise lounger squinting from the bright Spring Sun.

"Hello Darling. How are you feeling?" Jane asks folding the ear of the page and closing the book.

I smirk, knowing full well Maggie would have spilled to her about how I abused my 'two drink' rule last night.

"I'm okay...I just had hoped letting loose last night would have been what I was looking for. But, I still feel like I'm missing something. In the moment it was fun, but now I feel like I'm still missing something. Only now, I have a migraine."

"You're a smart girl. I'm sure you'll figure it out...you know Muriel, when I need a break from what life has to offer and require a bit of alone time I go to Cornwall. You're more than welcome to stay there for as long as you'd like. We keep it stocked with food even in the summertime, for impromptu needed escapes."

My brows lift to my hairline. I love Cornwall but I've only ever been in the winter. "I'd love that!" I throw my arms around her, "Are you sure? I don't want to overstep my welcome here."

Jane laughs and rolls her eyes, "Mur, Darling, I trust you more than my children. Go get yourself some country air. It does wonders for the soul."

I hug her again and stand from the lounge chair. "I better go pack, I'll be back on Monday when Ty gets in. Mags is still passed out, can you tell her I'll be gone for the weekend for me?"

"Of course! Now get a move on!" She gives my butt a swat with the back of her paperback romance novel and sends me on my way.

"Oh, also, the kitchen sink has been acting out. We have someone due to repair it."

"Okay!"

The long ride by train is just what I needed. The views after leaving London are breathtaking and they only get better the further west I go. I'd managed to board the train by noon so by five I'll be in Cornwall. I'm sure I missed a few things while packing but I don't care. I know this is exactly what I need.

I make a promise to make myself happy and put myself first this trip. No more accommodating for others. Not Jeremy, or my dad. Not even mom. I needed this for myself.

So, I grab my phone and send an email to Cathy Jaques. The humanitarian aid worker I contact to set up a new trip. This is what makes me truly happy: Helping people that can't help themselves. Not being stuck in some cold hospital but out in the field.

I send off the email and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The weight on my shoulders slightly lift and then I continue on my phone.

I open Instagram, still ignoring all the notifications I need to sort through, and instead decide on looking at Ollie's. He hasn't been on it in six months, but he did message me this morning from it, so I'm curious as to see what he was doing on it.

No new photos since his last post. It's a panoramic photo of the New York City skyline when he was in New York promoting for his work.

I have already liked the post when he originally shared it. I scroll through his feed careful not to 'like' anything by accident.

Before I know it I reach the bottom. His very first photo is a group picture I remember taking like it was yesterday. We're in Cornwall for Christmas and all of us kids are piled in the small movie room. I'm cuddled up with a young Ty who has a small ball and dinosaur in each hand. Next to us is Ollie with a massive bowl of popcorn and beside him are Gemma and Maggie. All of us smiling at the camera excited for our Christmas Eve movie tradition.

Looking at the old photo I can nearly smell the buttery popcorn filling the air and feel Ty scurrying around in my lap unable to sit still through the entire movie.

I want to comment on the photo but I hold back. Anything written on his page would be looked at under a microscope. There's no way I'd ever leave a comment. I am not looking for that sort of scrutiny.

The bright sun still hangs high in the sky by the time I arrive in Cornwall. A few short walks and two train rides I felt like I was on the right path to being rejuvinated. I packed light, so I decided to walk the remaining distance to the Thomas Manor. I wanted to take in the all the little details of this town in springtime time.

I walk, taking my time to literally stop and smell the flowers and appreciate the warm coastal breeze filtering through the cracked old cobblestone roads.

The Thomas Manor is set down a long dirt road fit between rock-walled paddocks of old farmland. The only other building is the nearby barn, other than that they have no neighbors on the sixty acres of rolling hills.

The small pebbles crunch under my shoes as I reach the waist-high gate gazing at the large house. My red hair wisps around my face so I fix it behind my ear and peer around smiling at the beautiful building with old ivy crawling across the face weaving around the old windows up to the gables near the roof.

I grab the handle of my small carry on suitcase and step through the whining gate and dig the keys Jane had loaned me from my pocket and step inside the mudroom.

Forest green rubber muck boots in all sizes line the wall beneath a narrow long wooden bench. Above it is shelving and space for hanging jackets, hats, umbrellas. Instead, I hang the keys and step inside. The ceilings are low, but Jane has updated the kitchen 10 years ago. It's large and spacious with a white farmhouse style sink and butcher block countertops. All the appliances are stainless steel while a large round breakfast table is perched near a large window with views of the front garden.

I walk through the large spacious house until I reach the wide stairs with the decorative banister. Upstairs, I chose the room my parents usually stay in because of the larg bed and the en suite bathroom with the jetted tub.

This is my weekend.

The room has views of the rolling hills out the back of the house. I open both windows and inhale the smell of wild flowers and springtime. It's a gorgeous room, with pinks, and vanilla white accents. The antique furniture is white but I'm sure worth a fortune.

The only thing missing to make this feel like home...is flowers...

I don't bother with unpacking or charging my phone. Instead I quickly change into denim overall shorts with a white undershirt and pull my hair up into a messy bun at the top of my head.

In the mudroom I retrieve a rattan woven basket and a pair of green boots then head outside swinging the basket back and forth as I slowly make my way slowly across the face of the house. I round the house and head down the matted down grass and enter the pasture picking wildflowers as I go.

I walk, following the narrow old path losing track of time with the only thought of making sure I have nearly every color of a wildflower possible in my basket.

I take careful steps when I begin descending a slick embankment leading towards a thin creak. The grass is soggy and when I step the boot slightly becomes stuck and makes a loud squishing sound. I gather my balance and step out, but the boot is left behind in the mud while I'm balancing on the bank with one foot hanging out in the air.

"Whoa." I laugh swinging my arms, including the basket of flowers, trying to stay balanced but fall forward slightly to use the embankment to grab onto. My fingers dig into the soft ground casing my nails and tips in cold mud so I retract them quickly throwing my body off balance and onto my butt backwards on the bank. I land with a loud squish and instantly I can feel the cold wet ground seep through the thin material of my overalls.

Screw it.

I lay backwards on the steep hill getting covered with the damp grass and mud and just lay there looking up at the blue sky with fluffy white clouds.

It's a strange feeling laying head down on a hill but I stay there for a while, sure I've got bugs or mud covering the entire backside of me.

My father's dirty words try to fight their way into my mind but I easily deflect them inhaling the smell of dirt and flowers around me.

Jane is right...country air does the soul good.

When I'm sure all the blood has drained from my feet I sit up aware of my clothes sticking to me where the mud has soaked the fabric completely. I climb to my knees and crawl around collecting my scattered blossoms and place them back in to the basket. I use both hands and haul the stuck boot from the mud and put it back on my foot. I'm covered in mud. My hands, knees, legs, foot, and my entire backside.

I follow the trail back and use my hand to cover the sun from my eyes as a black car rambles slowly up the long driveway.

Weird

I walk quicker so I'm there to greet them in case it's the plumber here to fix the sink.

I walk around the side of the house and stop in my tracks when I see Ollie closing the trunk of the black car with a duffel bag on his shoulder.

"Ollie?"

He removes his sunglasses peering at me through squinted eyes. He looks exactly how I feel seeing him here. Confused.

This was all totally planned by Jane lol

It gets steamy very soon! So thank you for being patient!

I'd love to hear your comments, theories, or feedback!