I walked into the hotel’s massive dining room and scanned the space for an empty chair. This was the first time in as long as I could remember that I would be eating a meal completely alone. Usually, I had my phone or book for company, but tonight, I was wholly unarmed. I spotted a seat by the large bay window overlooking the ocean and started walking toward it when I heard my name being shouted from across the room.
Zosia waved her hands around in the air. “Joanna darling, come sit with us.”
I turned my head and immediately recognized the woman sitting across from Zosia at their small table as mega popstar Emmy J. Every week, Emmy J’s face graced the cover of one tabloid or another, her name linked to one famous actor or musician. Her life seemed to be a revolving door of men, never dating any one person for more than a couple of months. Each tragic relationship seemed to give rise to a hit song or album, her fans almost relishing in her heartbreak.
Most recently it was reported she was dating Matthew Ryder, a famous director known for big-budget superhero franchise movies and, according to Us Weekly, she was expecting a proposal from him any day. I had to assume things with their relationship went south, otherwise why would she be at a breakup retreat?
I slid into the seat next to Zosia.
“Joanna, this is Emmy,” she said, pointing to her friend. “Joanna and I met at the spa earlier today.”
I placed my napkin on my lap and tried not to look as intimidated as I felt. In what alternate universe would I be having dinner with Zosia Barry and Emmy J?
Emmy put down her fork and extended her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Joanna.”
I smiled politely. “You too.”
A server came over to our table and passed each of us a menu.
“Good evening, ladies. Can I get you started with a cocktail?”
“I’ll take a rosé,” Zosia said.
Emmy nodded her head. “Oh, that sounds good. I’ll take one too.”
The server turned to me. “How about you?”
I decided I’d take it easy on the drinking while I was at Boot Camp. I tapped on my glass. “I’m good with just water, thank you.”
“This place is soooo much better than rehab,” Emmy said after the server was out of earshot.
I blinked hard.
“She’s kidding,” Zosia said.
“I’m kidding,” Emmy repeated. “Fortunately, men are my only vice. I always seem to pick the wrong ones.”
“Maybe the wrong ones pick you?” I said.
“You know, I never really thought about it like that. Wow, only a few hours into the Boot Camp and already I’m making progress,” Emmy said, winking at me.
The server came back with the wine and set it on the table. “Ladies, may I take your dinner orders?”
I glanced down at the paper menu and read through the list of appetizers. Each one sounded better than the next—market radishes served with local seasoned butters, house-made ricotta with cranberry compote and grilled focaccia bread, roasted kabocha squash toast with fresh burrata and a honey drizzle.
“Our chef offers menus that let the ingredients speak for themselves. He utilizes our vegetable and herb garden in almost every dish and then works with other local farmers and farmers’ markets to source local produce, cheeses, seafood, and meats.”
Zosia leaned into the table and lowered her voice. “The chef here is supposed to be a huge deal. He trained under Thomas Keller and Dan Barber.”
I was far from a foodie, but I did recognize both of those names as two of the most celebrated farm-to-table chefs in the world. Over our engagement weekend in Napa, Sam managed to get us a reservation at The French Laundry, Thomas Keller’s world-renowned, three-Michelin-starred restaurant, where we had the most incredible meal of my life. I never considered food to be art until I experienced French Laundry’s nine-course tasting menu, famous for not using the same ingredient more than once in any dish.
“I’ll have the roasted squash toast to start and the Bay Scallops as my main,” I said.
“Wonderful,” the server said, collecting the menus.
A few minutes later, Louisa Brier came to the center of the dining hall and tapped her microphone to get the room’s attention.
“I’m so pleased to welcome all of you to the Retreat House Breakup Boot Camp.”
The smattering of applause quickly started dying down as the realization of why we were all gathered together sank in. While the spa was amazing, the food outstanding, and the accommodations top-notch, there wasn’t a single person in that room who wouldn’t have gladly given all of it up in exchange for their heart to be fully intact again.
“Everyone looks refreshed and rejuvenated from their Breakovers and ready to face the next two weeks head-on. I wanted to make a couple of introductions to some of the folks who will be instrumental in your healing. First, the head of our yoga and meditation program, Jillian Davies,” Louisa said, pointing to a table in the front of the room. A super toned redhead in a black body suit and skintight white jeans stood up and gave a quick wave.
“Next, our on-site relationship therapist. You may recognize him from his hit show on MTV, Love Rules, Dr. Corey Pritchard, or as he’s known around here, Dr. P.”
A good-looking older gentleman with a shaved head swiveled around in his chair and nodded to the audience.
“Finally, the Director of the Retreat House Surf School and Camp, Austin Tripp.”
What I guessed to be a twenty-something guy with bleached-out blond hair and very intense tan for this early into the summer hopped up from his seat and gave the room a quick salute.
Austin made me think of the mysterious surfer I spotted on the beach earlier that day. My eyes darted around the room to look for him, but he wasn’t there. He must’ve been a guest of the hotel and not the Boot Camp?
“I think Austin over there could help me forget all about Matt,” Emmy said.
Zosia set her glass down. “I’m pretty sure sex with a Boot Camp staff member is strictly verboten.”
“I didn’t see that listed in the rules, did you, Joanna?”
I turned back to face them. “Sorry? What?”
“Sex with a staffer, do you think it’s allowed?”
“I haven’t given it much thought.”
“You haven’t? I’ve been banging everything that moves since Matt left me. Sex may not be the only way to get over an ex, but it sure is the most fun.”
“I wouldn’t know. I have never been with anyone other than my ex.”
“You mean anyone since him, right?”
I shook my head. “No, I mean I’ve never slept with anyone besides Sam.”
Zosia dropped the fork she was holding onto her plate with a loud clatter, causing a few heads in the room to turn and look at us. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m like, what, twenty-five years older than you, and even I’ve had my share of lovers.”
“Sam and I met in high school and had been together ever since.”
The server came by to deliver our food. Since breaking up with Sam, I’d almost completely lost my appetite, mostly sustaining myself on take-out Chinese food and coffee. But, everything on the table looked delicious, and my stomach let out a long, low growl. I picked up my fork and dug into the roasted squash. It tasted every bit as good as it smelled, and I devoured the toast in a matter of minutes.
Emmy glanced down at my left hand. “Were you two married?”
“No, not yet. Engaged. We were supposed to get married this August.”
“Trust me, you dodged a bullet there. Once kids, homes, and joint accounts are involved, it becomes a whole different story,” Zosia said.
Louisa suddenly appeared at our table and sat down in the empty chair.
“Ladies, how was everything today?” she asked.
“Wonderful,” Zosia answered.
She turned to me. “Joanna?”
“The food’s amazing,” I answered.
“I’ll give your compliments to the chef,” she said.
“We’d love to meet him,” Emmy said.
“He’s a bit of a hermit. You can usually find him in our gardens, kitchen, or on a surfboard. He’s not much for mingling with the guests. Your best shot of meeting him is to sign up for a private cooking lesson although the slots fill up pretty quick.” Louisa stood up. “Well, I’ll let you ladies finish up your meals and get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, the real work begins.”
Zosia reached into her tote and pulled out the next day’s schedule from inside her welcome folder.
I leaned over the table to read the sheet of paper. Discovering Your Inner Dominatrix with Mistress Monica; How to Tap into Your Power and Retake Control of Your Love Life.
Zosia raised her eyebrows. “Discovering your inner dominatrix, huh? She wasn’t kidding about getting a good night’s rest.”