When he was done with his rant, he was heaving. And though she was left stunned, she still wasn’t finished. “Well, I didn’t see you sticking around to fight for me!”
He had lowered his voice, was already back in control. With sorrowful eyes, he said, “I don’t own you. I said I should leave and you let me. I was completely blindsided. Next thing I know, I’m getting a text that you’re gone. How many times do I have to be kicked in the teeth?”
She wasn’t as good a fighter as she thought. This made twice in one day that she had lost an argument with a single statement. The only difference here was, Zoey refused to let him see her cry.
“Tristan,” she began, surprised by the shakiness in her voice. “I’m here now. I’m here because I love you. I love you for every single thing you are. Goofy clothes, bad hair, I adored it all. And I’m truly sorry I let the surprise at seeing Derek lead me into making a wrong decision. But I’m human and old habits die hard. I’ve spent a lifetime doing what I thought was expected of me. And I know you’re hurt right now, but I refuse to believe that higher forces brought us together only to have this be the end.”
With each heartfelt word she spoke, his eyes got glassier, and by the time she was finished, they were brimming with tears. She wanted to embrace him, but she didn’t dare.
“I used to tell myself it was higher forces that brought us together too,” he confessed, a single teardrop rolling down his cheek. “I wanted to change, prayed for it. Every move I tried to make only left me feeling more helpless, more afraid to trust. When I called you, I prayed that if I could just make one good friend, it would make all the difference. And when I felt an instant attraction to you, I got scared all over again. Because of you, and your willingness to help me, I was able to take those first steps out of the dark. How could I not forgive you? You saved me.”
They had made such a muddle of things, all while trying to do the right thing.
“I guess when it comes to matters of the heart, truth is the right way to go. And if I was being brutally honest, I would’ve admitted I felt something shift the night we met too. How many times in your life are you lucky enough to meet someone who feels the same way you do? I wish I had told you how I felt when I started feeling it. I wish I hadn’t tried to change you. I wish I had joined you. You were perfect the way you were. You still are.”
“Oh no.” He was quick to contradict. “I wouldn’t have traded that experience for anything. I never felt so alive or laughed so hard as when you were introducing me to the world.”
“Then can’t we move past this? Can’t you change your mind and stay?”
Tristan slowly shook his head, his eyes drinking her all in, filled with the need for her understanding. “I don’t want to. I’ve experienced this life as much as I care to. It isn’t for me. I want to go home.”
“I get that,” Zoey said, trying to curb the misery. Despite them baring their souls and the connection they had, it wasn’t enough.
“I used to think my hasty departure from the island was to escape the ghosts of my grandparents. And Paradise Cove was indeed their dream. I never had to make it mine, but I felt an obligation to. I think I still do. And I love it there. I miss it. I’m so grateful to you for everything you did to show me the big city. I can make this decision with no regrets. I’m not missing anything, except the rat race.”
“I get that too. It’s the right call.” Without realizing it, Zoey had begun to take books off the shelves and fill an empty box. An unconscious attempt to keep busy so that she wouldn’t have to deal with how to move forward in her life without him. “None of it means I can’t help you pack. Maybe we can share one last pizza.”
“Lady, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
They resumed packing up the books and the silence was comfortable, broken up sporadically when she discovered books she knew.
“Your grandmother really had a thing for Jackie Collins and Rosemary Rogers.”
“Those were definitely her favorites.”
Zoey struggled to keep the conversation light, when she longed to beg him to stay. He had made his decision and it was based on all the right reasons. To lay a guilt trip on him wouldn’t be fair. He wasn’t saying much either, a sign she took to mean he was having a difficult time as well. But she wanted to remember him confident and sure. She loved him enough to plaster on a brave face.
When she started with a fresh section of books, Zoey pulled one off the shelf and literally hugged it to her, before holding it out to show him.
“The Joy of Cooking. It’s the first cookbook my parents gave me. I set it on fire by accident when I put it too close to the stove.” She laughed at the memory while fanning the pages. “A pot boiled over and caused a flare-up and POOF! Singed pages soufflé.”
When she looked at him again, Tristan was studying her. Zoey started to blush. She would miss that look and everything that came after it.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do once you get back?” she said, to get her mind off it.
“Wow. I almost don’t know where to start. Paradise Cove is going to undergo a complete remodel. I’m going to modernize it and reopen it as a luxury resort, maybe with a spa.”
“That’s pretty ambitious.”
“I know! But if I can put people to work, that has to be a good thing, right?”
She couldn’t hold back the sigh. How rare was a person who always thought about the good he could do? She wondered if he had any idea just how special he was.
“I was looking to hire someone to help with that,” he continued. “A right-hand man, if you will. Only it doesn’t have to be a guy. Someone with good organizational skills and attention to detail. And preferably who likes to cook.”
His intention slowly dawned on her as he continued to stare. “I think I know someone who fits that bill.”
He gave her a grin and a wink, which was all she needed to rush to him, in perfect timing with the opening of his arms to welcome her back into them. His mouth crashed down onto hers and his arms wrapped around her.
“What the hell took you so long to ask?” she scolded him when he finally let her up for air.
“My finesse needs work. And I didn’t want to pressure you. And as soon as you walked through the door, I had made up my mind you were coming with me, even if I had to kidnap you.”
“Gotta love those higher forces at work.” She kissed him again. Nothing would ever feel as good as being in his arms.
“With you by my side, I feel like I could conquer the world and at the same time no longer need to.”
“Isn’t it funny how those things work?”
He started to sway side to side with her still tightly in his grasp. “I can’t wait to spend all our days and nights together, dancing and playing Rock Band. Maybe smoking some pot.”
“You’re getting a little more modern every day.” She allowed him to dance her around the library floor until they were both dizzy from the twirling, and the joy.
He continued to hold her close and stared down into her jubilant eyes, brushing the hair off her forehead.
“I will love you forever, Zoey. You’re my one. My only.”
Zoey thought she might start to swoon. Before he could recapture her mouth with his, a frown began to furrow her brow. One he noticed immediately.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s still my feelings about starting a family. I love you so much, but that hasn’t changed. I can’t promise that it ever will.”
Tristan set her at arm’s length and gave her a tender smile. Then he let her go and struck a perfect Steven Tyler pose. “A baby would cramp my vicious style.”
She giggled, and his smile got wide. Then he returned to being serious. He slid closer to her and brushed his knuckles across her cheek before gently tilting her chin up to meet his penetrating gaze.
“Zoey,” he said reassuringly. “I’ve said it before, it’s your body, your baby. Between the work that I do and all you did to enl
ighten me, I’ve seen enough of this world to make a valid argument for either side. As long as I have you, I have everything I need.”
In the end, it was Tristan who taught Zoey the most important lessons. About what love really looked like and how it was supposed to be shown. It was the unwavering, unflinching ability to support a partner throughout their changes. Or no changes at all.
Epilogue
One year later . . .
It was the easterly trade winds that allowed the breezes in St. Croix to blow cool and kept the humidity low. On the return from her morning walk on the beach, Zoey turned her face toward them.
They had been there only a week before she had drawn two conclusions. Tristan must have been in the darkest stages of grief when he left this beautiful oasis with its sweeping vistas and tropical waters that came in every color blue she could imagine. And she didn’t care if the cold never nipped at her ears or nose again.
The island wasn’t the desolate place she first imagined when he told her about it. It had all the comforts of the mainland, including a Kmart and an OfficeMax. But as they got closer to the property, it was easy to see why Tristan had grown up so isolated. It was quiet and secluded. She could see no reason why his grandparents would ever have wanted to leave it.
When they first arrived, Paradise Cove was in a minor state of disrepair. The people Tristan paid to watch over the place did their best. But it was already weathered when he left, and without a steady stream of funds, the maintenance was minimal. Zoey thought about those first nights they spent chasing out geckos that scurried across the tile floors after taking up residence in the cupboards and closets. Not quite as amusing was the mongoose she found in a bathtub. But her hero assured her that it was more scared of her, and she believed him.
Tristan spent their first night showing her around St. Croix, and then the two of them hit the ground running. Within days of their arrival, a contractor he had hired from the mainland arrived, and not long after that, local workers appeared every day, ready to get to work. There were times Zoey was certain Tristan was employing every able-bodied worker in town.
They worked hard as well. Side by side and room by room, they revitalized every square inch of his grandparents’ legacy, careful to preserve the intimacy that drew them to the place to begin with. Except the kitchen, which Tristan insisted be upgraded with every modern convenience imaginable until the original structure was unrecognizable and the only part left intact was the original frame. Tristan wanted the new kitchen to be a place for people to gather, not merely someplace to cook food to be carried off to another room. Zoey couldn’t agree more. She had always said old habits were hard to break. As soon as the kitchen was fully functional, they were cooking for all the people who helped work on the house.
In those early days before the workers arrived and the big house was constantly abuzz, Zoey lovingly roamed the premises in search of the spirits of his grandparents, a sign telling her they approved of her being there. She imagined her husband as a boy, running up and down the halls and splashing in the nearby surf. A young lad in Bermuda shorts with tanned limbs, and hair just a tad too long. The kind his grandfather would always say needed to be cut.
They had married, in a simple ceremony performed by a local judge on a palm-fringed beach exactly three months after they arrived. Two weeks earlier, her divorce decree from Derek arrived via FedEx. She never had the misfortune of having to deal with Derek again after he left her on the side of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Whether it was that he didn’t care or that Tristan’s lawyer scared him into signing the papers, she would never know. Tristan secretly had a magnificent gazebo built during the eight-day waiting period for their marriage license.
“Money talks,” he reminded her with a grin, not sounding the least bit guilty for abusing his position.
Now Paradise Cove was all but finished, but the idea of filling it with tourists had lost its luster. They attributed that change of heart to being newlyweds. In December, Tristan spent his half hour doing keystrokes on his program and by January he didn’t need to worry about customers again.
Zoey suggested that they run Paradise Cove the same way his grandparents had, by keeping it open for people they knew and loved. When he reminded her that he didn’t really know anybody, she lovingly reminded him that she had five siblings and he better get ready to be known.
Tristan gave Zoey a few more golf lessons. They used better discretion, but she would talk so dirty to him when he tried to instruct her, they still had yet to make it past the sixth hole.
As Zoey neared the house, she could hear the familiar sound of Aerosmith blasting. Tristan was enjoying his morning session of Rock Band, before guests started to arrive and things got hectic. She quickened her pace to get inside, hoping she wasn’t too late. Tristan had long since abandoned his leather pants, citing the heat. That didn’t hinder her desire to watch him put on the show, since now he did all his concerts shirtless. His golden tan and rippling muscles more than made up for it. He had let his hair grow longer again, which added to the overall rock star vibe.
She dashed past the artwork that adorned the hallways, still taking a second to appreciate her favorites, and found him in the great room, guitar in hand, whammy bar being shaken hard enough to break. He was biting into his lower lip, his face twisted in rock-’n’-rolling concentration. She stood as close as she could without him noticing her and watched, wondering for the umpteenth time just how she managed to get so lucky. She fisted sweaty palms against the skirt of her cotton sundress and enjoyed the familiar tingle that coursed through her.
As if he could feel her presence in the room, as soon as the song was over, he stopped and turned in her direction. He put down the guitar and smiled his way over to where she stood to give her a proper kiss.
“Good morning, Mrs. Malloy. You ready for some breakfast?”
He never did settle on a personal term of endearment to call her and she found out that the only thing better than hearing him call her Zoey was the way he had taken to addressing her since they wed.
They walked together arm in arm to their marvelous kitchen. Zoey pulled a plate of mangoes, papaya, and banana figs out of the fridge, but wrinkled her nose when he asked her if she wanted eggs. Tristan didn’t press her and pulled a box of Lucky Charms out of the pantry, setting it in front of her where she had taken a seat at the island. It was her current obsession, consuming bowls of it a day, sometimes pulling handfuls right out of the box.
“How about some cheese?” he asked. “A little bit of protein wouldn’t be a bad thing. We’ve got a long day ahead.”
“Swiss sounds good.” She brightened at the thought and popped a chunk of mango into his mouth as he passed her.
“You ready for today?”
Zoey laughed. “I know most of these people. I think the better question is, are you ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to get. Do you think they’ll like me?”
“Ruth and Blake have been singing your praises since the last time they were here. They’re not just going to like you. They are going to love you. But not nearly as much as I do.”
He rattled off his checklist. “The caterers will be here at ten to start setting up. Flowers show up at eleven. Your parents, brothers, and sisters arrive at noon and Blake’s mother at two. The bride, groom, and best man get in at four thirty, and I’ve got the cars ready to pick them all up. The maid of honor, of course, is already here.”
He stopped to give her one of his sexy wink-smile combos and added, “So is the flower girl.”
Zoey caressed her still mostly flat belly. “Excuse me, this could very well be the ring bearer.”
“I can’t wait to find out,” he said, moving closer and placing his hand over hers. “You feeling okay?”
She smiled warmly. “Never better.”
Higher forces and self-preservation are powerful things, Zoey had come to realize with a shock. After a spontaneous, mutually wild night when passion overruled
protection, and as her cycle got later and her symptoms began to show, she didn’t fill with dread, like she had been so sure she would. She filled with indescribable wonder. But her views had started shifting long before then. There was so much beauty here, so much peace and joy, she thought it was a shame to waste it. When she told Tristan the news after having her suspicions confirmed, he curtailed any real excitement and instead sincerely started weighing their options, including his getting a vasectomy.
“If you want to stop at one, I can make sure you don’t have to face this kind of decision again,” he said, holding her gently in his arms, as if she’d suddenly become fragile.
It brought her to tears. There wasn’t a selfish bone in his body. A piece of his beautiful soul was already growing inside her, and there was only one thing she wanted to do.
“We don’t need to think about that right now,” she told him with shiny, red-rimmed eyes they both blamed on hormones. “And on the bright side, for the next six or seven months, we can have all the unprotected sex we want.”
“Yay! Unprotected sex!” He whooped, kissing her tummy then lowering his voice. “Good morning, little one.”
They’d been having unprotected sex daily and he’d been doting on her ever since, something she didn’t think was possible. He was already a first-class doter.
That day and that revelation struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her worries about having children were just another self-erected roadblock to detour her away from the path she was destined to travel. The path that led her to Tristan. And Tristan was her home.
About the Author
STEPHANIE EVANOVICH is a full-fledged Jersey girl who attended New York Conservatory for Dramatic Arts, performed with several improv troupes, and acted in a few small-budget movies, all in preparation for the greatest job she ever had: raising her two sons. Now a full-time writer, she’s an avid sports fan who holds a black belt in tae kwon do.
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