1. Harper
Chapter 1
Harper
Turquoise water glitters in Monday’s afternoon sunlight. The sound of waves soothes me better than any spa relaxation tape, but this tropical heat is no joke.
Dabbing the sweat off my forehead, I adjust my sun hat and sip from a liter-sized water bottle. Maybe I’m a snob, but I think underground spring water from Hawaii’s volcanic soil tastes better than any fancy water I used to have on the East Coast.
Flipping through the pages of a fantasy-romance novel with my skin baking under the tropical sun, I’m trying to enjoy my day off but can’t stop thinking about the date.
June 13th.
Two months ago, I was supposed to walk down the aisle with Finn Gallagher. Instead I walked down the jetway and found myself standing in a not-so-crowded terminal at Daniel K. Inouye, an indoor-outdoor airport with a garden in the middle for people who want to soak up a little nature before hopping on a plane.
A quiet, serene transportation hub on an island oasis in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
I’ll never forget the way peace flooded my spirit when I first stepped foot on Hawaiian soil. I sensed the difference straight away. The air here is cleaner, the pace more relaxed, and there’s more time to enjoy life outside the vice grip of New York City and the Irish Kings.
Originally, I planned to leave the country using the passport I procured under a fake name from one of my nightclub contacts, but I fell in love with Oahu online. Fleeing across the ocean felt safe despite remaining in the U.S. since no one from my old life has any reason to search for me here.
I ditched New York, my bullshit arranged marriage, and everyone I’ve ever known or loved. That list of people might be short, but it’s still long enough to hollow me like a drum whenever I remember I gave them up in exchange for my freedom.
Knocking my sunglasses aside, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Once the threat of tears subsides, I drop my head back, gaze up into the endless azure sky overhead, and fill my lungs to the brim with fresh, salty air.
Two months have passed since I started my life here in the tropics. All things considered, things are going pretty great.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Before I made the decision to run, I spent every night crying myself to sleep. The only activity that calmed me down enough to rest was scrolling through travel accounts on social media and picturing myself in one of those beautiful places.
One day I stumbled across an account of a pineapple farm—along with all the gorgeous pictures of the surrounding Hawaiian landscape—and fell in love. When I arrived here, finding my place somewhere along Oahu’s North Shore was my first and only priority.
I brought fifty thousand dollars that I’d squirreled away. Though those funds won’t last forever, they were more than enough to rent an adorable loft, owned by an older couple who run a pineapple farm.
Both in their sixties, Jean and Tony Fukuoka are high school sweethearts born and raised on the island. Tony hails from a multi-generational farming family, and when his father passed, he inherited the family pineapple farm on the North Shore and their farm-to-table restaurant in Waikiki. Up until the spring, they ran the operation with the help of their three adult children, Mike, Paul, and Isabelle.
Isabelle got married in March and relocated to the mainland with her new husband, leaving the Fukuokas in need of help at the farm and restaurant. I volunteered to do both jobs if they could assist me in finding a place to stay.
They rented me Isabelle’s old room, and as of last week, my probation period’s complete and Elena Dane is a permanent employee of both Fukuoka Farms and Dish Waikiki .
Elena is my mother’s middle name. I combined it with mine and used the name for my new identification.
Part of the week, I work as a farmhand, helping harvest pineapples. Jean teaches me about different fertilizers, the growth process of the fruit, mulching, soil types, and propagation.
My other workdays, I spend at Dish . The restaurant sits right on the water near Waikiki Beach, an intimate little tourist trap where vacationers sip cocktails out of fresh pineapples and order grass-fed steak burgers.
I usually dedicate my free time to reclining in a beach chair on one of Oahu’s many stunning shorelines. Today, I slipped down the east side of the island to enjoy some “me time” at Waimanalo Beach. The welcome mat outside the Fukuokas’ front door that reads, “Water is life,” is on to something .
Living in the midst of such a gorgeous expanse of ocean is incredible.
Nothing much troubles me these days. Except thoughts of those I left behind.
My fingers itch, begging to climb into my pocket, grab my phone, and dial home. One call and I could hear Bex’s voice, tell her I made it and that everything’s all right.
Morbid curiosity or not, a part of me is dying to know what happened once Finn and the rest of his crew realized I stood him up at the altar.
Did my father’s jowly, bearded face mottle with rage when he found my note? Did he break things and curse my name?
Is Finn Gallagher, with his scarred face and cold brown eyes, scouring the earth for me this very second?
Truth be told, I’m not sure Finn was any happier than I was about the arranged marriage. After the murder of his first wife, most of us assumed he’d never marry again. His father Shane, the head of the Gallagher family and current leader of the Kings, must have persuaded him, probably to produce an heir.
But just because he’s indifferent to me doesn’t mean his ego will allow the betrayal to slide. He could be hunting me down right this very moment, consumed with the need for revenge over my disrespect. The moment I ran, I branded myself a traitor.
Just like my identical twin.
The thought of my sister wrenches my heart.
Riley.
We could have run away together, but I worried about the risk.
I worried that if both of us fled, our odds of getting caught would skyrocket. And I’ve already been a shitty enough sister to Riley as it is without forcing her to give up her life to go on the run with me. I may be selfish, but even I have my limits.
Who am I kidding? That’s not the only reason why I didn’t risk it. A big part of why I didn’t ask Riley to flee with me is because I was terrified she’d say no.
What if, after all those years of competing against each other and letting our family drive us apart, she stopped loving me?
What if agreeing to an engagement with the man who secretly stole my twin’s heart when she was a teenager snuffed out that love for good?
Another face materializes in my head, one with smoldering green eyes and a pair of kissable lips that set my blood on fire. And just like every other time he’s tried to invade my thoughts, I banish Cian from my mind. Especially the memory of our last interaction.
I left to find peace, and I’ll be damned if I let Cian Mahoney ruin that for me.
A swift breeze knocks my sun hat aside, sending me leaping out of my beach chair to catch it before it ends up in the tide. When I pivot to return to my seat, the immense beauty of this tropical landscape floors me all over again.
Sparkling white sand. Teal waters so bright they’re neon in the sun.
Yes, I ran away from everything and everyone I’ve ever known, but this place is my reward.
Click-click-click.
A short distance away, a tourist in a Hawaiian shirt with an HDR camera snaps pictures of the exquisite landscape around us.
Though given the angle of the lens, it’s entirely possible I’m part of that scenery.
My scalp prickles in alarm, and I grab my bag, fold up my chair, and head off the beach.
When I reach the sidewalk and brush the sand off my feet, I attempt to brush my uneasiness away along with it.
In Oahu, thousands of tourists snap photos every day. I’m sure the annoying guy in the colorful shirt is just another one of them.