by Stacy Eaton
We were left alone with our menus, and I leaned over the table. “How did you manage to get a table out here?”
His jaw tightened just enough to tell me there was something bothering him, and then he sighed. “I already had the reservation. Autumn had wanted to eat here, and when we decided we were going to go out to dinner, the timing worked. I figured it was better not to waste it.”
Yes, of course, the woman who was supposed to have been his wife. How had I forgotten about that? “Is it wrong of me to have forgotten all about that?”
“No. Quite honestly, I haven’t thought much about it myself.” Before he could say anything else, the sommelier arrived, and the two of them discussed vintages and flavors or colors or something. I had never been a wine drinker, but I knew that it came from grapes and there was red and white, and sometimes pink, and champagne had bubbles. That was the extent of my knowledge, so I studied the menu instead.
I decided on a roast pork dish with local spices, while Rye chose a conch stew. I was never a fan of seafood, and the thought of eating conch, which resembled a bigger escargot to me, made me queasy, but more power to him, I hoped he enjoyed it.
“I didn’t ask you earlier,” Rye started and paused, “how old is your daughter?”
I stared at him for a moment and then took a sip from my water glass and asked, “Rye, do you really want to know, or are you just being polite?”
“I want to know,” he answered sincerely.
“Why?”
He laughed abruptly, “Why? We’ve asked one another a hundred questions, but we never spoke about your daughter, or really anything personal.”
I turned to study the waves crashing on the shore twenty feet away. “I think that it might be better if we don’t.”
“Why do you say that?”
I gave him my attention again. “You and I both know that, in a few days, we will go back to our own lives, and this will all be a memory—a wonderful memory, but a memory all the same.”
“What if it weren’t?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What if we didn’t let it end when we left the island?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
He paused and cocked his head, but before he could open his mouth to speak, the sommelier returned, and they went through the process of opening the bottle, pouring, swirling, smelling, and tasting. As the two of them busied themselves with that, I tried not to panic.
Was he saying that he wanted more, that he wanted us to have a relationship? No, he couldn’t be saying that. He barely knew me and knew nothing about my life.
I sipped the wine that was poured. “Um, this is really good.”
“It’s made in the Dominican Republic. It’s called Colombard.”
“It tastes like citrus and mango.”
“Exactly.” He held his glass up. “May I propose a toast?”
I hesitated just a tad too long and saw his lip twitch. “To an incredible woman, a perfect dinner, and a nice walk on the beach after.”
I clinked glasses. “To a perfect dinner and walk on the beach.”
After he set his glass down, he leaned back. “So you don’t like the idea of us seeing one another after we leave here?”
“Oh, I love the idea, Rye, but I don’t think that it would be smart. You have your life, I have mine. What we have here is something entirely different.”
“You don’t think we could blend our lives?” he asked, and I bristled. Men like him didn’t want anything to do with the life I led in Maryland. Cammie’s father was the perfect example of that.
I leaned forward and rested my arms on the table. “Rye, I absolutely love what we have—here. I’m not looking for anything more, certainly not a forever, or even a maybe-this-will-work-out-after-all kind of thing. I’m sorry.”
He was quiet for a moment and then he smiled. “I’m sorry, too, but I guess I understand.”
“If you’d rather us not spend any more time together—”
He quickly reached over the table and took my hand. “No, I want to spend every second with you that I can. If there is no chance of anything once we leave here, then I want as many memories as I can hold to take with me.”
Damn if that didn’t make my eyes begin to water, and I blinked quickly as I averted my gaze. “Thank you, Rye. I feel the same way.”
“We will keep our conversation off personal and talk about the other million things that there are to talk about.”
I squeezed his hand back. “I’d like that.”
Over dinner, we laughed and talked about nothing and everything that didn’t touch our personal everyday lives. I made sure not to ask about his work or home, or his brother, and he kept his distance about my daughter.
As we walked hand in hand on the beach later, I wondered what it would be like to really have a man like Rye in my life all the time. Would I ever find someone who could make me feel the way he did daily? Were all these feelings just side effects of the magical tropical fantasy in which we were living?
That night we made love in his bungalow, and as I drifted off to sleep, I could hear the beating of his heart in my right ear and the surf crashing over the shore in my left, and I wished that I could keep them both forever.
Chapter 9
Rye
I was still a bit shocked at my earlier epiphany. I wasn’t sure if I could actually be in love with Amy, but I knew that if I let myself, I’d fall—hard and fast. Part of me wanted to hit that rocky bottom because I’d secretly hoped for the kind of love that Roan experienced—damn!—was experiencing.
How lucky was he to have been in love with two very different, but incredible, women when I couldn’t find even one that rocked my world?
Amy rocked my world, not only my world, but my very core. I was finally concluding that it was possible for me to have what my brother had. I just needed to take the chance.
As I sat across from Amy at our romantic table on the beach. I wanted to spill all that was bouncing around in my brain, my heart, my soul. Would she welcome an opportunity for us to see one another once this fantasy holiday was over? I could already imagine packing my home into cardboard boxes. Would she be open to moving to Cricklewood Cove? That would be even better, I could stay close to my parents and brother. I had high hopes that she felt as I did and was secretly dreaming of the same things.
When she put the kibosh on getting to know one another on a more personal level, I was crushed to put it mildly. The dreams that had just begun to bloom began to slip through my fingers like the grains of sand around us.
I stared at her over the flickering candle and swore that I was going to find a way to keep her in my life. I didn’t want to give up on her—on us—on the opportunity to have what Roan had.
Our evening was more relaxed than the night before as we walked along the surf, holding hands and staring at the stars. We made love, not once, but twice, and as I closed my eyes that night, she lay curled against me. I knew without a doubt that if the words “I love you” fell from my lips, they wouldn’t be a lie. Somewhere between the delicious dinner and the moonbeams, I had tumbled like a falling star—or was that a dying star?
I woke the next morning to an empty bed and silence in my bungalow. I listened briefly for anything around me, but only the distant call of a bird and the rhythmic rolling of the sea drifted to me. I lifted my head from the pillow to look around through bleary eyes and found the place empty. I ignored the ache in my chest and glanced toward her side of the bed. In the indention of her head on the pillow, I found a note.
Woke early and went back to my place to work. I’m sure I’ll see you later.
“‘I’m sure I’ll see you later?’ What does that mean?” I sat up and spun so that my feet hung off the bed and read the note again after I rubbed my eyes. “What the hell does ‘I’m sure I’ll see you later’ mean?”
I frowned as I stared at the small sheet of hotel paper. After our talk last night, I wondered maybe if th
at had been our last night together. Did she return to my room for one more proverbial roll in the hay? Was that it? Did we end just as quickly as we’d started?
A loud knock on the door forced me up, and I locked my jaw as I jerked on the pair of pants from last night. I almost expected to see Amy on the other side, but it was a resort employee.
“Mr. Waterman, I’m sorry for waking you, but the phone doesn’t seem to be working in your bungalow.”
“Yes, I’m aware. Who was trying to call me this time?”
“No one, sir. We wanted to speak to you about the approaching storm. The hurricane has been upgraded to a category two storm, and there is a strong possibility that it could become a three or four by tomorrow.”
I glanced at the bright-blue, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky view behind him; it was so misleading. “Okay, and what does that mean for me?” I leaned against the doorjamb and crossed my arms. I didn’t want to think about tropical storms. I was still dwelling on Amy’s note, and I hadn’t had any coffee to kickstart the brain yet.
“It means, sir, that we believe you should reconsider your stay here. The authorities are asking all resorts to encourage guests to leave now, before it’s too late.”
“They expect the hurricane to hit the island then?”
“At the current time, it looks like it could be a direct hit.”
“How long?”
“Three days, sir.”
“Then I’ll decide later.” I stepped back to close my door, and he shuffled forward and put his hand up to stop me.
“Sir, of course we wish for you to stay, but we are encouraging our guests to leave as soon as possible. Your safety is very important to us. If you decide to stay, there might not be a way off the island.”
“Have the airlines said anything about stopping flights?”
“Not yet, Mr. Waterman, but I am sure we will hear something later today or tomorrow as to when they will begin canceling flights.”
“Then I’ll worry about it tomorrow.” I started to close the door but jerked it back open. “What about the woman in that bungalow? Have you spoken to her yet?”
“I didn’t, sir, but she is aware. She was at the front desk this morning speaking to someone else.”
“Oh, okay, thank you.” I closed the door and rubbed a hand over my beard as I walked back to the bed. I stared at the note and then felt an undeniable urgency building inside of me to get to Amy and clear this up.
I showered quickly, dressed in shorts and a white, short-sleeved shirt, slipped my feet into my flip-flops, and headed over to her place. Instead of going to her front door, I slipped around the side to her patio and paused as I heard her speaking anxiously on the phone.
“I wish I could get back, but they haven’t found my passport yet, Joanne. I was just at the front desk, and they said they haven’t heard anything from international passport services yet on a new one. I’m stuck here.”
I remained outside as she grew quiet. “Well, can you call Andre and explain the situation? Maybe he can help us out. I would but these phone calls are costing me a small fortune.”
She quieted again, and I wondered who Andre was. “Okay, give him a call and see if he can help. I hate that I’m not there for this.”
A moment later, she said goodbye to Joanne, and I could see her through the sheer curtain as she put the phone back into the cradle and then put her hands over her face for a moment before rubbing them over her dark hair. She crossed her arms as if to comfort herself with a hug. I couldn’t stand it anymore; I stepped forward to the door.
“Hey, there you are. Are you okay?”
She jumped at my voice, but after a moment, the obvious tension in her face was replaced with a smile. I wondered how she could change her emotions that fast. The only thing I could come up with was that she really was happy to see me because she cared more than she let on.
“I’m fine, just fretting over my passport. The storm is getting closer, and I’m a little worried about being stuck here.”
“No word about your passport?”
“No, and if they don’t find it soon, I’m going to be stuck here. If the island gets hit by the hurricane, god knows how long I’ll be stranded here.”
“Is there something I can do to help?”
Amy approached me. “I wish, but unfortunately, I’ve done everything I can to rush the situation.”
“There is no way for you to get an emergency passport so you can get off the island?”
“No.”
I didn’t like that answer. In fact, as I stood there, I wracked my brain for something that I could do, someone I could call who might be able to assist, but I came up empty.
“I’m sorry, I wish I could do something for you.”
She wrapped her arms around me. “You are doing something—you’re here.”
I chuckled as I hugged her, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
She didn’t respond to my confession at first, and when I thought she might finally say something, her phone rang, and she broke away hurriedly. “I need to take this.”
“Sure.” I stepped out to the patio to give her privacy. Her voice was guarded as she answered. I frowned at the way she was sheltering herself from me.
I took a seat on the swing just off her patio that faced the beach and sighed. I didn’t have any right to her personal business. Hadn’t she just told me last night that she didn’t want anything else with me?
Those dreams that had been drifting like sand through my fingers were now being tossed by the bucketful into the endless ocean before me.
A few minutes later, Amy came out and took a seat beside me. Her eyes looked a bit red, as if she’d been crying, and her cheeks seemed a little flushed.
For a few moments, we glided back and forth on the swing in silence. A million questions raced through my mind, but I held them back.
“Sorry about that,” she finally said.
“It’s okay; you had things to take care of.”
She sighed, and a look of weariness blanketed her features for so short a time that I wondered if I had seen it at all. A moment later, she turned to me and blasted me with a huge grin, her green eyes almost as alive as they previously had been. “I wasn’t sure I would see you today.”
“Yeah, about that,” I replied. “Why would you think that you wouldn’t see me today?”
She shrugged. “I know your whole trip was planned for your honeymoon, and that fell apart, but I didn’t want to assume that you wanted to spend more time with me.”
“Amy,” I paused until she looked at me, “do you want to spend time with me?”
She reached for my hand. “Of course, I do, Rye, but I don’t want to monopolize your time if you have other things you want to do.”
I brought her hand to my lips and kissed the back of it. “The only thing I want to do is have you monopolize my time.”
“You do?”
“If this is all I’m ever going to have of you, then I want every moment I can get. I don’t want to miss a minute of our time here in paradise together.”
Her eyes sparkled, and sincere happiness shone from them. My heart wanted to burst knowing I’d put the joy into her features.
“Okay, then what are we doing today?”
“Well,” I glanced at my watch, “if you’re up to it, I have a boat lined up to take us out on the water for the afternoon.”
She cocked her head, giving me a skeptical look, “Did you book that this morning?”
“No, it was already booked.”
She giggled. “Oh, I get to play Mrs. Waterman again, huh?”
I stared at the wooden ring on her hand for a second and ran my thumb over the back of mine. “Yes, you get to play Mrs. Waterman again.”
“What were you planning on doing on the boat?”
“Well, I was planning on snorkeling and maybe doing a little fishing.”
“And what would the other Mrs. Waterman have done?”
“She would ha
ve sat on the deck and sunbathed or decided that the sun was too hot and sat in the air-conditioned cabin and whined.”
“She wouldn’t have joined you?”
“No, she isn’t much for water sports.” I paused. “So what do you think?”
“I’ll go on one condition.”
“What?” I was ready to move heaven and earth to get her to spend the day with me on the water.
“I get to snorkel and fish, too.”
I grinned. “You got yourself a deal.”
She crawled onto my lap. “Then you better kiss me and seal that deal.”
I lifted my wrist, glanced at my watch, and saw that we had two hours. “I’ll do one better.” I stood, lifting her in my arms, and she giggled and locked her legs around my waist. I took her into her bungalow and laid her on the bed. “I’ll seal it with more than a kiss.”
Amy’s eyes grew serious, and she caressed the side of my face. “Make love to me, Rye.”
She didn’t need to ask twice.
Chapter 10
Amy
“What do you mean he can’t help with Cammie? Did you tell him that I was stuck on an island in the middle of the Caribbean?”
“Yeah, I did, Amy, but he said he has his own issues.”
“She’s his daughter!” I growled into the phone. “I know he walked out on me when he divorced me, but I never thought he would really walk out on her.”
“I’m sorry, Amy. I know this is so stressful for you.”
“It is. I can’t believe I am this far away, and she’s sick. This is why I never go anywhere.”