Chapter 19Hazel
Chapter 19
Hazel
I am not sure how long I napped for.
I don’t know what time it is or where I am.
Waves crash to the shore, and warm sunlight covers my entire body like the softest blanket in existence. When I feel the weight of a strong arm on my torso, I remember.
I’m in Hawaii.
I gently roll to my side and open my eyes. I’m slightly nervous that it’s just a dream and it will all disappear when I open my eyes.
But it doesn’t.
The colorful beach blanket is dusted in white sand along one edge. Jack is lying on his stomach, and his arm is draped over me.
I remember now that we’ve been sharing this beach blanket all afternoon. It comes back to me, piece by piece.
After that day in his kitchen—that beautiful morning when we decided to really cross the line—we’ve spent many of our hours here, on the beach in front of the resort.
“Hey there, Sport,” he says, lazily and groggily, as though he’s been napping, too.
His eyelashes are blond, like his hair. They come together when he blinks. When we lie here, so close like this, I can enjoy all the details of his eyes: the blue and gray flecks mixed in with the green.
I reach out to touch the tip of his nose. It’s a habit I have these days. I think I like to make sure he’s real.
“You sound sleepy,” I say.
“We both got in a day nap…” He grins and shifts so he’s on his side, too. “My brother says they’re life-changing. You feel like a new person?”
“I don’t know what I feel like.”
“You got that good Vacation Brain.”
“I’ve got Jack Morgan brain, I believe.” I don’t know who I am anymore. The Hazel who arrived on this island is not the woman lying here on this towel.
For the past few days, I’ve let myself do things differently. My rut was so deep back in New Hampshire that I couldn’t figure a way out.
I was stuck, and I had to get moving. That felt pretty scary. But Jack is teaching me to take risks.
Little ones, every day.
Like paddling out beyond the breakers on that old surfboard. He chose mid-morning for that first adventure. The tide was low, the surf gentle and subdued. Jack showed me how to lie on my tummy on the board and paddle with the waves as they carried me forward. He said I didn’t even have to try to stand up if I didn’t want to. I didn’t. Feeling the ocean move underneath me, being a little farther away from shore than usual, was enough.
I tried fried calamari—squid! —for the first time.
I stayed up until 3 a.m. one night, something I haven’t done since I was seventeen. Jack and I floated on our backs in the ocean and looked up at the stars.
Yesterday, he knocked on my bungalow door early, before sunrise. We walked barefoot along the path that lines the lagoon, past silhouettes of the animals that call this place home. The flamingos were sleeping, each standing on one leg, heads resting on their backs. Then, we settled in on the sandy shore and watched the first rays of the sunrise streak out into the night sky.
When Jack rented an e-bike later that morning, he insisted I at least do one lap around the resort. I did. It was exhilarating, if not downright scary. I forgot to hold onto my hat, which flew off when I picked up too much speed.
Besides the little, sometimes “risky” things, we’ve gotten a lot of lazy relaxation in, too. The afternoons have been spent lazing by the pool, soaking in the hot tub, or sunbathing out here on the beach.
Most evenings, we’ve closed down the Tiki Grille and then shared slices of key lime pie.
I’ve made a point of visiting Chester the Sea Turtle every day, and he likes that I carry a baggy of baby carrots in my tote bag so I can give him treats.
This has been the best week of my life, I think as I look at the man lying beside me.
He lets his arm drift past me and rest in the sand behind me. “Man, I wish I could have a mattress made of this stuff,” he says.
A soft, warm sensation on my hip makes me look down along my side. He’s letting sand fall through his fingertips. The fine white sand makes a little pile on my obliques.
I smile dreamily. “Me, too. It’s more comfortable than my mattress back home.”
He smooths the sand over my side.
“What are you doing?” I giggle as I look at his work. “Making a sandcastle out of me?”
“A Hazel Thorpe sculpture.”
“It feels nice.”
“ You feel nice.” Now his fingers slide against my flesh, no sand between his palm and my bare skin.
I fall back and look up at the clouds. Far above us, a tiny white plane traverses an expanse of clear blue between two pillows of white.
I don’t want this to end.
This is our last afternoon in Hawaii. Tomorrow, an airplane just like that one will whisk us away.
In my periphery, I see Jack’s chin tilt upward; he looks at the clouds, too. He shaved yesterday, and already the stubble is that auburn shadow.
My mother has adored the photos I’ve been sending. She keeps saying that I look so happy, and ‘Matt’ and I make such a sweet couple. I am sure she’s dying to meet him.
Jack’s palm finds my abdomen. He rests his hand over the crest of my hip. “You’re thinking about flying, aren’t you?”
“That, and other things.”
“Don’t.”
“Jack…”
“We’ve got a whole evening left.”
“Yeah, but—” I can’t get the words out. It would hurt too much, to try to force them through the ache in my chest and throat.
“Hazel, what if—what if it didn’t end?”
“I’ve thought about moving here, too,” I say, my eyes pinned to those far-off clouds. “But it’s not really practical. I mean, the cost of living here is so high, and?—”
“No, not Hawaii. I mean… I mean us .” He keeps that warm, heavy, strong hand on my hip. When he props his head up in his hands, I feel his eyes peering down at me.
I meet his gaze. “I thought this was our escape,” I say. The butterflies I got used to feeling early in the week kick up in a flurry. “I thought we were forgetting everything and enjoying the moment.”
I’ve felt as though my life has been on hold this week.
Like I’ve existed in some bubble.
Whenever those pesky thoughts from off the island knocked on my inner doors, I turned them away.
I did manage to email Buzzy Digital Marketing's founder to say I could meet with him upon my return home. That was the last work-related thing I did before sinking into the magic that’s been my life for the last four days.
Jack took care of that work call with Chad, who was so happy to be making progress with the sale of his house that he dropped all his complaints about the Shopper Shark email sequence.
That issue was fixed, just as Jack predicted. Watching his way of working has been eye-opening. I’m learning from his out-of-the-box thinking and easy, relaxed way of relating to people.
We’ve both slipped into this dream-like vacation world. Neither of us has talked about the future.
“We did forget everything,” he agrees. “Forgetting’s temporary, though. Sooner or later, you remember things.”
“Yeah, like my mother, who is counting down the days until she meets Matt Monroe.”
It’s easier to talk about my mother’s desires than my own. I’ll have to fess up to her eventually or stage a break-up with the fictitious Matt. That seems easy compared to the other issue looming.
When I get back to New Hampshire, I’ll be alone again.
“Hazel, what if you told her the truth?” he asks.
My gears grind along, clicking over the nitty-gritties of it. “Yeah, I should. I know I should. I’m thinking of letting it ride for a few weeks, at least until some of the yucky weather eases up. Maybe I’ll tell her I made up Matt sometime in March…”
“No, I mean the truth about us . Don’t just tell her Matt isn’t real. Tell her about me.”
My pulse ratchets up. My heart trembles. I’ve been so careful not to let my mind go here—to this exact subject he’s broaching now.
“What would I tell her?”
“Tell her we hit it off. Instant friendship.”
My mood dips.
This conversation scares me more than the thought of standing on that beat-up board, riding his dirt bike, or anything else.
So, ‘we hit it off.’ We struck up a ‘friendship.’
Was that what this was about to him?
An unlikely friendship-fling between coworkers.
If this was nothing more than an immediate friendship—with benefits tossed in—I would be totally crushed.
Because, in the secret parts of my heart, I’ve been thinking about love.
This thing with Jack has felt like love to me.
“Hm… yeah,” I mutter. “I guess I could tell her that.”
His hand moves to my cheek. He shifts a strand of hair off my temple. “Don’t get sad,” he says, tucking it behind my ear.
“It’s just tough to have this week come to an end.” And to know I have to say goodbye to you…
I will have to say goodbye to the goofy Jack, who dances in the kitchen with his nieces.
The one who smells of body wash and wears his towel tucked around his waist.
The Jack who shares pie with me and gives me piggyback rides in the pool in those few minutes before it closes for the night when we have it all to ourselves.
Soon, we’ll be back to our stuffy emails. I’ll only get to interact with Jack through work, and it will be much more complicated if I get promoted.
I don’t want to think about this…
And all of this was nothing more than a new friendship to him.
We shouldn’t have started this discussion. It would be better to try to enjoy the last few hours here in this magical place without letting the future intrude.
I pull my floppy, black sun hat off the sand and give it a shake. Then I fit it over my head and tilt the brim over my face.
Now, all I can see is a screen of blackness.
It’s good, not to look at him.
I try to let the sting of his words fade, but they’ve burrowed in my heart.
He said it so casually. ‘We hit it off.’
I’m being too sensitive. It’s because I don’t want to leave. I know that, and I still can’t help it.
Bright light sneaks under the brim of the hat as his hand shifts it up.
Soon, he’s leaning over me, peeking under the floppy brim. “Hello in there?”
“Hi.”
“You mad?”
“Not at you. Just in a funk.”
“You got the Vacation’s Ending Blues.”
“You got that right.” I nip the inside of my cheek.
Should I say something?
Part of me wants to clam up. But another part needs him to know that this week was really, really special to me.
“Come on,” he prompts. “Talk to me.”
“I guess I’m upset because I don’t want to tell my mom I made a new friend in Hawaii.”
He chuckles. “Oh… okay. I get it. You are mad at me. Hey, we had our first fight.”
“It’s not a fight,” I grumble. Then I inch up onto my elbows. The towel rumples under my weight. I push the hat up farther to see him and the strip of brilliant blue ocean behind him. “I’d like you to know that you haven’t just been a friend to me.”
“Maybe you didn’t let me finish.”
“Hm?”
He gives me one of his gorgeous smiles.
Oof .
Him, smiling at me, with that poster-worthy beach backdrop behind him…? The image is now blazed in my memory.
I just hope I don’t revisit it in the future while pining over what could have been.
“I was going to finish, but you pulled your hat over your face.” He tugs the brim of my hat playfully. “So, you want to hear the rest?”
Hope sparkles in my chest. He wouldn’t look at me like this if he had bad news to give. “Sure.”
“Tell your mom that you met me in Hawaii. That you’ve worked with me for a long time, and you couldn’t stand me.”
It’s instinctive, the urge to politely refute that statement. “I never said that.”
He chuckles. “Didn’t have to. I picked up on it. I even felt the same about you sometimes cause I didn’t really know anything about you. That’s what made it so great, getting to know you. It was a surprise. I’ve always liked surprises.”
His hand drifts over my shoulder, down my arm. He rests his palm over my hand, which lies between us now.
“Tell her that we had a lot of fun together. So, when I asked you to be my girl, you said yes.”
One side of my mouth lifts in a half-smile. “Your girl? What are we, sixteen?”
The ground’s now spinning.
Even though it sounds so silly and trite, that phrase also pulls my heartstrings. I want to be his girl.
His half-smile mirrors mine. “You make me feel like a goofy teen. ‘Kay, Haze, how’s this? I think we should try dating. Is that more mature sounding for ya? The long-distance thing. See how it goes, you know?”
“Jack, really…?”
“I think we should give this a shot.”
“But—” I swallow, then lick my lips. Right now, all the thoughts I’ve kept at bay are flooding me.
Thoughts about a long-distance relationship. Good morning calls and good night video chats. Reunions in airports. Holidays together. Then, one day…
Maybe more.
One of us relocating, so we could be closer…
And at the same time, opposing thoughts crash in. In mere days, I’ll discuss that promotion with the Buzzy Digital Marketing CEO. I might step into Devina’s shoes. I’ll be the one marking task items on the work dashboard with pesky red flags.
“You’re saying try the long-distance thing,” I repeat slowly as his words—and all that comes with them—sink in.
My hopes.
My doubts.
My fears.
Everything’s swirling inside me.
Work is just the beginning when it comes to my reservations. There’s also our histories. Jack’s been hurt before, and so have I.
Letting my guard down while here in Hawaii was one thing. Keeping it down is another.
“I’m in if you are,” he says in that low, rumbly, easy way he has.
“Please don’t be casual about this,” I beg. “It could get really complicated.”
“I know that. I’m still willing to go all in.”
I could lie here and voice every concern I have to him. I could make lists in my mind and worry.
But the sun is sinking lower with each passing moment.
Dinner at the Tiki Grille awaits us, and those otherworldly lights of the inground pool.
Chester’s in the lagoon, swimming around, waiting for our visit. He’ll want carrots.
What should I do, Chester? I ask as if either my turtle friend or my ex-therapist could possibly get the message and offer help.
The only answer I get is more crashing waves, not so far away. And the sight of Jack, poised and waiting for my choice.
Am I going to return to life back home, just like it was? Or will I step into something new?
“It’s a risk,” I whisper.
“Yeah, a big one.”
“I watched a couple of videos of your dirt bike stunts online,” I tell him.
When I’ve been away from Jack these past few days, I’ve caught up on press about him. There sure is a lot of it. “There were a few of your big crash. I saw a clip of you flashing a peace sign when you were on a stretcher after your accident.”
“I’m a survivor.” He flexes his leg just slightly. “Got the metal pins to prove it.”
“What happened, exactly?”
“I had it all under control until I didn’t. Leak in my suspension system, but I didn’t know it. The shocks blew out right as I landed. You saw the rest. The bike flipped and landed on top of me. Broke my pelvis and both legs.”
“You were smiling.”
“Doctors told me later that it was ‘cause of adrenaline. I guess it acts as a pain suppressor.”
“You’re incredible. I just don’t know if I’m as hardy as you.”
If we crash and burn, will I survive it?
“Jack—if we do this, we probably have to keep it a secret. I mean, from everyone.”
He nods. “Everyone except your mom. She can be in on it because now that I’ve heard so much about her, I want to cheer her up, too.”
A smile escapes. “Thanks. And… Brett and Corinne can know. But for now, that should probably be it. You took down that social media post, right?”
“Yeah, it’s toast.”
“Let’s not make it public knowledge, you know?”
“Our little secret.”
“For a while, at least,” I say. It feels really good to be making this plan finally—and to let myself even think about moving forward with Jack.
Maybe it doesn’t have to end.
This magic—it can keep going.
At the same time, I know our ‘plan’ isn’t perfect. Far from it. It’s a temporary fix, not a permanent solution.
And even as a temporary measure, it has faults.
There’s a chance that our relationship isn’t a secret at all. There’s a chance too many people know already.
I think back to that ‘happy couple’ photograph of us that Jack posted online.
Who saw it?
Did anyone from work see it?
My frantic mind skitters over Jack’s followers on Insta. I’ve already been paranoid enough to check the handles and recognized a few Buzzy Digital Marketing people in the mix—including Devina.
“What if the secret’s already out?” I fret aloud.
He smooths his fingertips lovingly down my cheek. “You’re thinking about Devina, aren’t you?”
“Can’t help it.”
“I guess we deal with that if it comes up.”
“Okay… yeah. Maybe it won’t.”
“I’m starving. What do you say, ready for our last meal at the Tiki Grille?”
“Wait. One more thing.”
He hitches an eyebrow to ask me what it is.
I pull him closer. “This,” I say, just before placing my lips on his. This kiss is amazing, as usual. It almost makes me forget the problems lurking. Almost.
But as we get up and gather our things, my fears return.
Devina follows him on Instagram.
She might already know what we’ve been up to here in Hawaii.
What will happen when I get back to New Hampshire?