Chapter 71
“So the waiter brings the check over from Quinton’s table,” Selma says, nearly out of breath from laughing so hard. Turns out, her laughter is deliciously contagious, though I hadn’t had the pleasure of hearing much of it the other night.
Tonight’s early dinner is a complete one-eighty compared to last night. After hearing my side of the story, and having Dom verify the truth of it, Quinton and Selma welcomed me back into their home with open arms. Telling me that if Dom loves me (which he still hasn’t said outright yet), then they will too.
Selma is telling us the story of when she first met Quinton, while Quinton pipes up with his memory of the meeting — I think it’s to prove to us that sometimes love has a rocky start, and a relationship that begins with a bang can still last.
I’d bet Dom has heard this story a few times, but he’s red in the face from laughing along with them. They’re both fantastic storytellers, so much so that I can’t help but be drawn into their world of memories, as if I was there myself.
“Well, I knew she’d actually have to look over at me if the waiter delivered my bill to her, so I slipped the guy a few bucks to do it,” Quinton chimes in happily.
“I’d been avoiding his attention all night.” Selma hits the table as she says it, leaning back in her chair, feigning anger, then cracking into a coy smile.
“I’d tried everything to get her to pay attention to me, but this beautiful woman was used to every man in the world being absolutely smitten with her.” He grins, looking longingly at his wife of thirteen years. “Selma didn’t care about some lowly film director trying to get her attention. She didn’t need a damn thing from me. She already had it all. Still does.”
He watches her smile appreciatively and kisses her hand. Everything he’d said about her aging out was all part of his show last night. They are absolutely smitten with each other still, and it shows.
The four of us are gathered at their table overlooking the ocean. A blazing pink and orange sunset is streaked across the sky, palm trees dancing peacefully in the breeze all around us.
A smile is glued to my face while I watch the love they share bouncing back and forth across the table as they tell their story. Now that their icy exteriors have melted, I can’t help but adore them, exactly like I hoped I would. I watch the way they look at each other, and find myself hoping to have that kind of love one day as well.
I sneak a glance at Dom’s face while Quinton continues, hardly able to believe I have to leave him soon.
“So by the time she had to get out of her chair and physically come talk to me about this erroneous bill that I insisted was hers to pay, well, she was good and mad.”
“I wanted to wring his neck!” she howls. “But when I looked into Quinny’s eyes . . .” Selma pauses and looks into Quinton’s eyes like they’re meeting again for the first time. I notice a few tears well up as she relives the memory, lost in the moment for a split second. “Well, that was it.” She cracks into a smile, and turns to grin at us.
I’m officially transfixed by them. Charisma dripping from their every word, their every look — it all hits a tender spot in me. Reminds me of my own parents’ relationship. I add Selma and Quinton to my mental list of things I’ll never forget about from my time here on the island.
“Who knows,” Selma continues, “maybe one day you’ll be here at this exact table with a new guest — both of you thirteen years older and wiser — telling them about the unlikely circumstances that brought the two of you together.”
I beam at Dom, imagining what Selma has said coming true one day.
“The story of how we met, how Dom and I got to today, is definitely pretty wild.” I grin at him from ear to ear. Then I squeeze his hand and give him a kiss.
Quinton clears his throat.
“Olivia, your life, the one you’ve lived these last two months on this beautiful island, it is truly a once-in-a-lifetime kind of story.” Quinton winks. “Unforgettable, really. One that I think you should not be afraid to tell. It’s one that so many would love to hear.”
My stomach does a little flip when I realize what he’s saying.
“Sometimes life gives you exactly what you need, and you just need a little push to follow your gut. To grab what’s right in front of you. The universe often takes the path less traveled — one you never saw coming — to end up in the spot where you were always meant to be.”
Selma smiles softly at me, then grabs Quinton’s hand just as Dom squeezes mine.
I’m suddenly feeling all warm and calm. “I think I know what you’re telling me.” I fight the urge to be filled with any kind of hope from his words, but I realize that’s impossible.
“Then write it,” Quinton says. “Write the story you were given to write.”
So I do.