I smile as I toss my bag on a nearby chair before joining them on Auli'i’s other side.
“We are praying to the mountains tonight,” she confesses with her arms stretched toward the heavens.
With our hands raised and pointed at the center, we give praise to the Kawaikini Mountain—the highest peak on the island.
“Let the hips glide, not wiggle.” Her words send my eyes to her hips, and I try to emulate her movements. “Let the spirit of Aloha flow through you. Feel the hula.”
I close my eyes and allow my body to feel the dance.
“Very good,” she praises. “Hawaiians believe the first hula was performed by the Laka as a form of worship.”
I open my eyes as she does the kaholo —one foot to the right and the other follows for two beats and then repeats the sequence to the left.
“May you have grace in your step, song in your hands, and Aloha in your heart,” Auli’l sings out with the rasp and wisdom from age.
The music has ended, and so has our dance.
Auli’i gives me a warm hug, and her kind eyes appraise me. While she takes me in, worry lines mar her forehead, but she doesn’t question me.
“I’m going to head out,” Lani calls from a nearby bench as she puts her shoes on.
“Where are you off to at this time of night?” Auli’i asks.
Lani’s face beams. “I have a date.”
“This wouldn’t be the same boy who dropped you off at two in the morning the other night, would it?” Auli’l may only be five foot two, but her power’s as great as someone seven feet tall.
The ever confident Lani wanes under her grandmother’s stare. “He’s a good man, Tutu. Besides, I am twenty-three-years-old. Who I spend my time with is my business.”
Auli’l grimaces. “Does he know how to respect a lady?”
“Yes, Tutu.” Lani puts her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder and leans in to kiss her cheek.
“Don’t soften up an old woman. I want to meet the man who tempts you.” She gives her granddaughter an inquisitive gaze.
Lani’s mouth twists to the side. “You make it sound so taboo. Jason makes me laugh.”
“So he has a name. I want to meet this Jason. He will come over for dinner so I can appraise him myself.”
“Yes, Tutu.” Lani gives her grandmother another kiss and then turns to me for a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I want to hear how Olivia Benson’s balls are.”
My eyes widen at her use of the term in front of her grandmother. Luckily, Auli’i hasn’t the slightest idea what Lani is talking about.”
“That girl has a mind for boys,” Auli’i says as soon as Lani is gone. “She thinks I don’t know what she’s up to, but I do. When her parents left, I knew raising that child would be a challenge.” She hooks her arm in mine and walks toward her house. “I just didn’t know how much I’d love it.” Her face is lit up with a wicked smile. She plays tough grandma in front of Lani. Behind the scenes, I believe she’s just as devious. “Come, we’ll have a cup of tea.”
“What about our lesson?”
She pats my hand. “We’ll still have it. Come.”
I follow her into her home and take a seat at the kitchen table while she turns the kettle on.
The white cabinets make Auli’s large kitchen appear more modest and warm. While waits for the water to heat on the stove, she moves about unhurried in her step. I can’t help but giggle from my seat at the table when she reaches for two cups and has to lean over the Elvis Presley cookie jar nestled in a corner atop the worn, wooden counters. She pours two cups of Passion Fruit tea and hands me one.
I thank her and inhale the citrus scent and savor the sweet flavor. Closing my eyes, I unwind my mind from the crazy day. The long, crazy day.
It feels like a million years ago I asked Isaiah to make Jax a Volcanorita. Pair that with the waxing of his balls and the knife throwing, and not only was today long, it feels so very wrong. Hurting people is not my style, yet one glimpse of Jax and I turn into a monster.
I open my eyes and sigh in disappointment.
“You have a wary look in your eye tonight. Tell me, what brings about this sadness?”
Her question doesn’t surprise me.
“I’m not sad.” Placing the mug on the table, I wrap my hands around it and feel the heat of the porcelain. It should be warm and calming, yet it feels like a reminder of sorts. Of the heat of something else, or shall I saw someone else.
My attention drops to the green, palm-leaf designs embroidered on the placemat beneath my cup. The events of the day roam my mind as my finger traces the scalloped edge of the fabric, but Auli’i’s stare unnerves me until I return her gaze.
I give in. “I’m confused. Someone from my past re-entered my life yesterday, and it caught me off guard.”
“An old love.” It’s not a question.
I nod. Unwilling to witness her response, I focus on the amber liquid in the mug—my fingers dance around the ceramic to avoid burning my hands keeping them in one place too long.
She places her folded hands onto her lap. “He must have wronged you a great deal to cause so much confusion.”
I bite my lower lip. “Yes, very much so.” A multitude of emotions runs rampant through me—confusion likely the strongest at the moment.
“When I see him, I see this great guy who tried to make everyone around him comfortable, even when they were at their most vulnerable. He can be an attentive listener or talk to a fly on the wall. He’s awkwardly funny and will never say no to a challenge.”
I touch my mouth to find it curved up in a smile. The feel of my lips spread wide makes my forehead pinch.
“I also see this terrible person who disregards privacy and leaves a loved one alone with a burden. It’s forced me to do terrible things I’m not proud of today. Yet, if you ask me if I’d do it again, I’d probably say yes. There’s something wrong with me.”
Her eyes travel to my fidgeting fingers steadily tapping the mug, and then down to my leg gently shaking beneath the table, and the deep lines of her face become more defined.
“Ho’oponopono.”
My hand and leg stop moving. “What?”
“It means ‘to make right.’ You need to correct the wrong that has happened in this man’s life.”
I hold up a hand and correct her. “No. It’s not so simple. He hurt me, not the other way around. And it was horrible.”
She takes my hand in hers and lowers it to the table. The smooth, but weathered skin of her palm holds tightly to mine. I stare at our connection and then into her charcoal gaze.
“When you want to move on. You do,” she says.
I lean back in my chair. I want to explain to her what Jax did, but that would mean I’d have to confess to having sex as a teenager which would only disappoint her. Her perception of me would be permanently altered by my foolish decision.
“Yes, Auli’i. I’ll work on it.” My smile is courteous even though it’s complete bullshit—I don’t want to forgive Jax.
The older woman sees through my deflection and waves her finger in the air before putting it on the table. “When you forgive others, you forgive yourself.”
I open my mouth to argue but stop short.
She continues, “Repentance, forgiveness, gratitude, and love.” Her stare remains firm on mine as she repeats the words. “Repentance, forgiveness, gratitude, and love. When you forgive others, you forgive yourself.”
Her hand reaches up to her chest and clenches her heart. “You need to restore your own harmony. If you heal yourself, you can heal the world.”
“Some people aren’t worthy of forgiveness.”
“You are so young, Trish. Why do you hold onto this burden of pain?”
My body feels heavy. A slow, simmering grief crawls up my legs and swirls into my torso. I know it’s all in my head, but the gravity of her words renders me immobile.
“I’ve felt this way for a third of my life. I don’t know how to exist
without it.” The confession brings me a hint of levity.
Her hand returns to mine, and with a gentle squeeze, she responds, “He has wandered back into your life for a reason. Let him atone for his sins so you can forgive and move on.”
I cross my arms in defiance and look away. “I fear I’ll never be able to.”
“Forgive?”
“Move on.” I wipe a tear from my cheek and inhale a shaky breath.
She pats me on the arm and gives it a little rub. “Soon, you will see. Very soon.”
chapter ELEVEN
One of the beautiful things about Hawaii is that every day is like waking up on vacation. Just sitting up in bed bathing in the Polynesian sunshine—the island welcomes me daily. I stretch, reaching high toward the ceiling and give myself a morning shake.
Standing, I look in the mirror finding my hair a tattered mess and yesterday’s mascara smudged under my lids. Still, I give myself a nod and a quirky grin. “Today will be a good day.” My reflection agrees.
Wrapping myself in my thick, oversized robe, I walk into the hallway, unsure if Kelli has unexpected company. Most days I’m up and out of the apartment well before she’s awake, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been surprised by a rogue man on my couch eating Anatolia Granola in his boxers. We may have left Manhattan, but some things never change.
Luckily, the apartment is empty, and Kelli is still fast asleep in her room.
I walk into the bathroom and start my morning routine. Once I’m freshly showered, I slide into white shorts and a V-neck polo. When I finish my French braid, I apply extra thick mascara to my lashes. After stepping into my Doc Martens, I appraise myself in the mirror. My appearance says I’m a well-put-together woman who is confident at her job and self-assured—if only people knew what went on beneath the exterior.
“You got this,” I say to myself as I head out the door.
I hop into my Wrangler and start my commute toward the Kauai Princess. The drive takes me down Maluhia Road where a beautiful canopy of eucalyptus trees line the shoulder creating a tree tunnel. The sun peeks through the leaves as I drive down with my windows open and feel the wind on my skin.
“Good morning,” I greet Lani as I walk up to the reception desk. “You look well-rested for someone who went out last night.
She scrunches her perky, little nose. “I asked Jason to bring me home early. Tutu got in my head.” Her bangle bracelets bang on the desk as she talks. “It’s not a good thing when your grandmother is in your head while you’re giving head.”
I try to cover my ears, but it’s no use.
“She’s of the older generation. She expects people to behave a certain way,” I say sincerely. “She means well.”
In melodramatic fashion, she throws her hands up to the gods. “Why do I have to belong to a culture that values their elders as much as we do.”
“I think I’m following.”
Her hands drop to her sides as she explains, “I told Jason we cannot be intimate anymore until he meets my Tutu.”
“And he said no?”
“That’s the problem. He said yes! As in he’d be honored to meet my Tutu. As in, this relationship is going in a serious direction. As in, he’s kind of ecstatic about it.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Is it? Am I a one man kinda girl? I just started my sexual journey. I should be having one-night stands and trying on boyfriends like I would new pants. How many men have you been with? Four?”
I want to tell her she’s right, but my sex life is not what we should be discussing right now. “You should experiment a little, but don’t just try on any pair of pants. Stick to the cotton, dependable ones. Silk may look good, but it’s a bitch to keep clean.”
“Don’t mock my troubles—or my analogies.”
With a small laugh, I have a hard time concealing, I walk around the desk and give her a hug. At the end of our embrace, I grab onto her shoulders and tell her, “Jason’s not proposing marriage. He just wants to meet Auli’i. It’ll be fine.”
She gives a reassuring nod. “Will you come?”
“Me? Why? That would be weird.”
She grabs onto my hand and pleads with her eyes. “No. It’ll make it easier. How’s Wednesday? Please, come and be the buffer, so Jason doesn’t freak out and leave me because he thinks my grandmother is too intense?”
“I thought you were concerned he was going to want to get married? You need to prioritize your freak outs. It’s hard to keep track.”
“I don’t like any of it.”
“Did you really start thinking of your grandmother while, you know…”
“It was awful. And then he asked me what was on my mind, so I told him and well,” she lifts a finger in the air and then slowly curls it down until it’s wilted. “It was sad.”
“That is quite unfortunate.” The thought of Jason’s lost erection makes me turn my head to escape the imagery. Something outside catches my attention, and I look out the back door and see Benji walking by the pool area. “I’ll be right back.”
I scurry through the lobby doors and hightail it toward Benji. When I reach him, I grab his shoulder and turn him around.
“Mornin’, Nani!” His teeth gleam against his dark brown skin.
“Don’t beautiful me. What the hell is wrong with you?” Based on the ever-growing smile on his face, I can see he doesn’t comprehend my agitation. “Throwing daggers at a guest? You are out of your mind!” My voice is raised, and my hands burst out erratically.
“Rafael gave meh permission. I’m certified now.”
“Yes, but you were supposed to find an assistant.”
“I did. Isaiah told me Fish Bait was talkin’ stink so we thought we’d geev ‘em a lesson. It was good fun.”
I rub my head. “You need a release for something like that. What if he sues us?”
“I did nah hit him.”
“You scared him half to death.”
“That dude was nah scared.”
With a stomp of my foot, I exclaim, “You have no idea if he was or wasn’t. He’s my guest, and you don’t mess with one of my people. Right or wrong, good or bad, we don’t play games like that.”
He scowls at me. “Dats funny. I heard ya had his tingy waxed.”
“He did that voluntarily.”
“And da Volcanorita?”
“Benji, I’ll say this again, and you can tell Isaiah, leave Jackson Davis alone or you’ll have to answer to me.” I hear the irony in my voice.
“Fine. I never saw yah get so heated. We bruddahs got a special feeling for you. ‘Cause Trish is special.” His brows waggle as he says the words.
I roll my eyes at his sweet talk. “Thank you, Benji.”
I watch as Benji walks toward the Tiki Bar. When I turn around, my body comes to a halt at the site of a pensive Jax standing against a column. His hands are in his pockets, while his eyes are trained on mine, slightly squinted and appraising.
My heart pounds, unsure of how much of that conversation he heard. By the look on his face, I assume it was most of it.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t defending you.”
He shakes his head. “Never would have imagined.”
“I was merely protecting the integrity of my guests. If they act so freely with you, they’ll think they can do anything to anyone.”
“What do you have planned for today?” His voice is smooth and steady.
My brows rise. “You still want to do this?”
“Last night, I had knives thrown at my head. I’m pretty sure I can handle anything.” His dedication to this deal makes me antsy.
I jump in place and give a little shake. “Great. We’re going golfing.”
“You golf?”
“Not really, but I know how to drive the cart. What about you? You game?”
The right side of his mouth rises. It’s impossibly disarming.
“Always.”
…
“I love you.”<
br />
“No, I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“I love you more more.”
“You’re my stallion.”
“I can’t wait to get you back into our room.”
“Whoa! Getting handsy there, Mr. Waimer,” Shayna Waimer laugh-talks as she playfully swats her husband on the arm. She turns to Jax and me who are staring at them, dumbfounded. “He just pinched my butt. Can you believe him? This man.” She looks up into his eyes with a dreamy expression.
“Who are these people?” Jax asks out the side of his mouth while staring straight at them.
“They’re our partners this afternoon.” I, too, speak to Jax from the side of the smile plastered on my face as I look at Mark and Shayna Waimer outfitted in matching plaid shorts. She has on a tank top that says—you guessed it—“The Mrs.” emblazoned on the front, while he sports a teal Lacoste golf polo.
Jax turns to me, forcing me to face him. “I thought you said we were golfing?”
“We are.” I grin. “As a foursome.” I’m oddly proud of myself for today’s plan. The Wiamer’s are annoyingly affectionate, and they demand all of the attention in a room, therefore leaving no opportunity for Jax to manipulate the conversation in anyway—in other words, he won’t be able to talk about the past.
“I think I’d rather down a bottle of sriracha.”
“Tried that and you survived.” I pat him on the arm. “Today, you suffer a new kind of torture.”
“You’re cute when you’re plotting.”
With a pointed finger, I admonish, “Oh no. Don’t be nice.”
“When have I been mean?”
“Just…” My brain draws a blank. I hate being put on the spot. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”
“Another ‘gent to spend the morning kicking a ball along the greens with.” Mark extends a hand toward Jax.
“Are you British?” Jax asks.
Mark grimaces. “No. I just like to throw on an accent every now and then.”
Shayna grabs onto Mark’s bicep and adds, “Mark does the most adorable French impression. Do it for them, bae.”
Mark doesn’t miss a beat and immediately pouts his lip and lowers his brows. With a hand to his mouth like he’s smoking a cigarette, he says, “I cannot resist such a beautiful woman. I must have her in my bed at night.”
True Abandon Page 12