Chapter Twenty-Two
Twenty-Two
Rooster arrived, carrying Lulu’s suitcase, surprised to find his wife and his goddaughter teary-eyed on the couch. “Everything okay here?” he asked.
“All good,” Laverne said, flicking Lulu a private glance.
And Lulu hoped Laverne was right. Her mistrust of Tyler’s vow had eased with the afternoon’s revelation.
True, he was more mature and nurturing than he had been at twenty, yet at the core of her concerns there was the fact that when it came down to it, Tyler’s promise to Lulu, not to Laverne, was the one he should have kept. She had the greater need.
Yet. Lulu owed him an apology—for assuming that his obligation to stay away was entirely to do with selfishness.
Asking for forgiveness, Lulu knew, was the ultimate in vulnerability, like throwing oneself in front of a bus and hoping the brakes worked.
But knowing the backstory to his disappearance had strengthened her resolve.
And now that she had her suitcase, she tossed on her flowy orange minidress, paused in front of the mirror, and studied the woman staring back. She saw herself at a crossroads.
Her hair curled against her olive skin, and her strong, straight nose, a feature that had caused her a good deal of angst in middle school, now was the proud centerpiece of a determined face.
Thirty-three. A single mom, which, by the way, she was doing a damn good job of, if she dared to say so herself.
And granted, her job security tank might be down a pint, but Lulu was determined to run on fumes if she had to.
Giving herself a close-lipped smile for courage, Lulu rallied.
If she were to consider this thing, this amorphous, potential budding relationship with a man whom she had loved as a child and turned her back on as a young woman, what would that look like?
Now, as an adult who long ago had ditched the rose-colored glasses, she still saw him for who he was: a somewhat flawed, yet fun-loving and kindhearted soul.
And couldn’t she say the same about herself? Well. Fun-loving might be a stretch. But what she lacked in free-spiritedness, she made up for in organizational skills, and she’d take that any day.
At the coffee table, Lulu helped Zoe snap a piece into the colorful wooden wagon wheel puzzle. Zoe lifted her hands in victory and gave her mom a high five. “Mommy? Miss Carmen says I can sleep in here at Grandma and Papu’s ’gain.”
Rooster glanced up from chopping a mango in the kitchenette and nodded. “They’re bringing a toddler cot.”
Laverne scooched onto the couch with her granddaughter. “Zoe, let Grandma finish the puzzle with you.” Laverne gave her niece a long look. “Mommy has something she needs to take care of.”
“Is it a cat?” Zoe asked.
To Zoe’s chagrin, her mother clarified that no, it was not a cat.
“Okay. But I do want a cat,” Zoe said, poking Lulu in the thigh. “Mommy, can I show you something? Outside.”
She had meant to mention the dangers of the balcony to Laverne before everything went awry. For now, Lulu would be vigilant. That low railing was a hazard! Laverne rose and took one of Zoe’s hands and Lulu took the other.
The vista from the balcony was as captivating as ever.
Before them, the empty white sands stretched out toward the beach.
The sky was a flat, cloudless blue but the water reflected a thousand shades.
Lulu had never known that many blues existed—from turquoise, to emerald, to sapphire; a treasure chest of colored gems sparkled at the surface.
In the distance, a lone figure played in the churning white curls of water that shuffled up the shoreline.
“Look at this, Mommy,” Zoe said, tugging her mom toward the railing.
“Not so close, honey,” Lulu said, using her body as a protective shield. She turned to Laverne. “I meant to mention that this railing is way too low.”
“But that’s how we get down to the beach!” Zoe cried, looking to her grandma for confirmation.
And Lulu noticed what she had not seen before. A gate in the railing protected a broad flight of steps that led down to the sand. Hardly a drop-off. More like an invitation. A few stairs and the guests could stroll right to the sea.
“That man is waving to us.” Zoe waved her arms above her head. “Hi!” she called.
Following her daughter’s gaze, Lulu’s eyes swept the sea. It looked more like the man in the ocean was flailing, not waving.
Alert, her ears pricked up when his sharp call floated toward the resort. “Save me!” he shouted.
Lulu shot an urgent glance at her aunt. “That’s Tyler!”
“Go!” said Laverne, ushering Zoe inside. Lulu wasted no time flinging open the gate. She sprinted down the steps and hightailed it toward the shoreline, her feet slapping against the coarse sand, kicking up shards of shells.
Tyler’s thrashing was wild now, and her mind flew to a frightening concern. He must be stuck in a riptide. She kept her eyes glued to him as she ran, and her heart thundered when his head slipped under the waves. He was not a confident swimmer, that she remembered all too well.
But she was.
Tyler’s arms flashed in the sunlight, windmilling against the current.
She remembered from her swim lesson days that it was useless to struggle against a riptide.
Better to cut across it on a diagonal. Keeping her gaze trained on where she last saw him, she spotted him again bobbing up and once more going under.
It would be too dangerous to swim out to him without some kind of float or something.
Tyler had drifted farther out now, and if she stroked out there, she’d be pulled into the rip, or he might panic and drag her under as she tried to save him.
Frantically, Lulu looked around for a piece of driftwood or a long stick she could use to lengthen her reach.
She struggled to keep her wits clear. At last, she spotted a solution and raced back up the beach to grab one of the resort surfboards from the rack.
Her adrenaline drove her toward the shoreline, hefting the heavy board as if it were balsa wood. She caught a glimpse of Tyler’s head before he went under again and her focus zoomed in to a pinpoint. Get out to him.
She hooked the leash to her ankle—if the board got away from her, they’d both be out of luck.
Lulu waded out, threw the surfboard ahead and jumped on, her chest banging against the surface.
Head up, she stroked, her arms tugging against the weight of the water.
With the waves, her board rose and fell and she couldn’t catch sight of him, but she knew the general area where she’d spotted him last, and her cupped hands dug into the waves like a life depended on it. Which it did.
At last, and for only a second, there it was, his mop of hair. She powered toward him, carefully maneuvering beside him. “Tyler!” she yelled. “I’m here! Grab the board. Can you pull yourself on?”
And relief flooded her when she felt the tilt of the board as he held on to the back and struggled on behind her.
With a quick glance to make sure he was on, she began hauling them toward the shore.
“It’s rough!” she shouted, afraid they would tip.
He was throwing off the balance. “Lie on top of me!” Lulu ordered, her voice shaking with effort.
He shifted carefully until he lay on his belly on top of her back.
Tyler’s arms stroked in tandem with hers, mustering unexpected power for someone who had been flailing in a riptide a moment earlier.
With a final burst of strength, she paddled hard, and a lucky wave caught them and carried the board until it crunched onto the coral sand and slid a good three feet onto the beach.
She lay panting beneath him, chest heaving, limbs trembling. “Oh my god.” Lulu tried to catch her breath. “Are you okay?” she managed.
“Yeah.” His voice was not shaking. If anything, she thought he sounded energized. “That was awesome! Wanna go again?”
Pressing upward with a mountain of strength, she yelled, “What?! Go back?!” Incredulous, she tipped him off her backside and onto the sand. “You almost drowned out there!”
He rolled to face her. “What are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about? I just dragged you out of a riptide. What else was I supposed to do when you yelled, ‘Save me!’?”
Understanding dawned on Tyler’s face and he laughed. “It’s wavy!”
“What?”
“I said ‘it’s wavy,’ not ‘save me.’ ”
Lulu almost lost it right there. I should toss him back into the water for scaring me like that, she thought, her heart racing like a runaway train.
He tilted his head, and his lips quirked up in apology. “But I’m not sorry you paddled out to rescue me. And gotta say”—he gave a brief nod at his shorts—“I enjoyed the ride.”
She stared at the pup tent, aghast.
“What?” he shrugged with mock innocence. “You told me to lie on top of you. What did you expect?”
“You!” she shouted. “You!” She shoved him onto his back.
“Yes. It’s me. Again. You really have mastered that pronoun. I think you could move on, if you’re feeling up to it. Maybe give ‘we’ a try. Or ‘they.’ Mix it up a little.”
Lulu growled low in her throat, stifling a scream.
She had been so, so afraid for him. For both of them.
She worried she might have lost him before she ever got him back.
Her eyes stung with emotion at the thought.
Lulu swallowed hard. What if? What if she had lost him before ever regaining the chance to give him another try?
But how could she stand another moment with this annoying and infuriating guy—who brought joy to a group of schoolkids and who gave up his zip-lining dream to keep her company as she marched down the mountain and whose kiss in the hot river heated the water between her thighs to a rolling boil?
It was exasperating! Lulu Gardner did care about Tyler Demming. She did. A lot. She did not want to lose him again. And that thought, that stupid thought, propelled her over the edge.
Tyler’s brow crumpled at the sight of her. “Oh. No. Don’t cry.” Which is the worst thing someone can say to a person who is crying. Lulu let go, curling her shoulders into her lap. She had been so scared for him, and all the while he had a fucking hard-on.
He lifted his hands helplessly. “No, no. Don’t cry.” He knee-walked along the broken shells. “Ow. Ow-ow-ow. Hold on. Don’t cry.”
“I’m mad at you!” she said, through the glob of mucus that was bubbling from her nose. She balled her hands into fists and squeezed them against her thighs. “I’m so mad at you! I thought you were going to die!”
Tyler, whose arms had been outstretched toward her, paused. “Wait a sec. You’re mad that I didn’t die?”
“No!” She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m just mad!
” Lulu scowled, the full weight of what had almost happened broken by the look of complete bewilderment on Tyler’s face.
“No, dammit,” she said, trying to beat down the smile that threatened to sprout.
She glared at him. “I’m glad you didn’t die,” she said, and it came out half laugh, half cry.
“That makes two of us.”
Looking to her aunt’s balcony, Lulu found it deserted, but faintly, she could hear her daughter’s chatter and Rooster’s guffawing response.
Lulu swiped at her face, brushing off the saline collaboration of her tears and the sea.
She licked her lips. There was something lovely and sad about the salt taste, and Lulu pouted.
And Tyler, seeing this tender expression of hers, softened.
“I have fluffy robes,” he said, apropos of nothing.
Her nose crinkled in confusion.
“They’re really nice and I have two of them. Big, white, fluffy resort robes. The best kind to steal,” he explained. “Just kidding,” he added quickly. “Sort of.”
Reaching out an arm, he offered to help her up, and she shook her head. Lulu struggled to push herself out of the ditch her butt had made in the coarse sand and stood. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.
She wanted to be held. She wanted to ask him to hold her. And she wanted to beat her fists on his chest and hurt him because he had scared her. And she wanted to throw him down on the sand and rip his clothes off. If it had been a private beach. Or just, anyway.
Instead, she pulled in a deep breath and picked up the nose of the surfboard. She dragged the base, digging a trench in the broken coral. Kicking after her, Tyler jogged to the tail end, lifted it off the beach, and scooted forward, maneuvering to take over the carrying.
“I’ve got it!” she insisted, tugging it away from him and hefting the thing onto the rack.
And she kept marching, not looking back, toward the steps to Aunt Laverne’s balcony. She could hear the crunch of his quick steps behind her. “Lu! Come on.”
“What,” she said. A statement. Not a question.
“Please. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and…”
“That doesn’t solve everything!” she hissed.
His shoulders deflated. “No, Lu. It doesn’t. But can we just talk?” His eyes took her in. “Please.” And he indicated the stairs to his own balcony.
The sound of Zoe’s lilting conversation floated out, and Rooster’s and Laverne’s answering coos.
In her bedraggled state, she didn’t want to disrupt them.
Tyler was watching her, his eyes full of fondness and memory, and open with guileless affection.
He tipped his forehead, lifted one brow, and mouthed the words, “Fluffy robe.”
Rolling her eyes in resignation, Lulu sighed and pointed her chin toward his suite.