Chapter Twenty-One
Faye
Faye turned one way, and then the other, examining herself in the mirror. A short-sleeve green plaid shirt fell over her shoulders, and her black boyfriend-style shorts hugged her hips.
How has Carla roped me into this?
The woman was nothing short of persistent every time she bumped into her around the island. But she was the first person who had been kind to her here, and she supposed she owed her one for the sunglasses—but still, why couldn’t they go for a nice walk instead?
Listen to yourself. Would Emmeline Pankhurst say no to a poker game?
I bet she would know the rules.
It wasn’t as though she had much else planned tonight. Quin had their scheduled chat with their dad, and Diana was spending time with Molly. Faye needed a distraction to stop her brain from counting down the days.
She and Diana had been avoiding that conversation. They’d spoken about life at home, Faye going back to work, Diana possibly having a career change, but breezed over any details concerning the two of them.
It made sense. Why would they talk about “them” when there was no “them” to speak of?
There was always an expiration date, but that little bud of hope had dared to sprout in Faye’s heart, and she didn’t know what to do with it.
She’d wanted to come to the island and find herself again, open up to the opportunities life had to offer, but maybe she wasn’t ready for this. Not with someone like Diana.
A night apart would probably do them some good.
But she didn’t mean that, not really. Every moment she could spend in Diana’s company wouldn’t be enough.
It was more than the way she touched her.
It was the other parts she’d had the pleasure of uncovering.
How she’d press her fingers to her lips after she laughed, like she hadn’t meant for the sound to escape.
How she didn’t even blink at Faye’s ostomy.
How she treated her like she wasn’t fragile.
How easily she mixed the delicate with the dastardly. The woman was a weapon.
Faye’s mouth dried at the memory of her bare skin. Of slipping off the purple robe and revealing all her curves and freckles. How good it felt to touch her, to feel her. She couldn’t help but hope it meant something to Diana, too.
She noticed those quiet moments where Diana went inside herself. She wanted to peel back those walls and understand—but what if she had it all wrong? What if Diana knew Faye wanted more and wanted to let her down gently?
Ending this between them was going to feel like being catapulted off a cliff, whichever way it happened. So no. She didn’t want to accelerate the suffering or ruin what little time they had left.
Still, the question lodged deep in her brain: would saying goodbye undo all the progress she’d made?
Two cheery toots of a horn pulled her attention from the mirror. Carla had arrived.
“Ay, Dog’s Bollocks!” she called, waving like a wind turbine about to blow off its hinges. Her long dark hair, usually contained in a ponytail, flowed in loose waves down her back. It was strange to see her wearing jeans and a T-shirt rather than the blue uniforms the staff wore on the island.
“How is Faye?” Carla asked as the buggy pulled away.
“Good. I love it here… I can definitely see why Ella came and never left.”
Carla chuckled, the wind blowing her hair like a terrible shampoo advert. “Princesa Inês working her magic, huh?”
The memory of Diana’s mouth on Faye warmed her neck. The breath tickling her ear. “Do you think the princess would approve of this?”
“What about your bag?” Carla asked, unaware of the heat unravelling in Faye’s navel. “How are things?”
She brushed her abdomen, and the bulge that was always present. “A little better. It’s getting easier to tell people…and Senhor Arenoso said some things that helped me see the situation a little differently.”
“Mm-hmm. He is a wise man. A handsome one too.” Carla nodded with a little too much appreciation, and Faye wrinkled her nose. “But not all things are solved with a three-week course. Some take time and practice.”
“I guess so.” Faye spun the question back on her, hoping to avoid any questions about her love life. “So how is Carla?”
“I’m enjoying myself. Work is good.” She let out a joyful squeal as they hit a particularly gravelly section of road, the seat vibrating. “It will be even better once we win some money tonight, eh?” She bumped shoulders with Faye.
“I don’t even know the rules,” Faye admitted. “And won’t you get in trouble? If Riley finds out?”
“Why? We’re all friends. It’s not like I’m taking you to an underground den in Lisbon.” She grinned, her silver septum piercing catching the light. “Stop worrying so much.”
If only it were that simple.
The sun sank over the horizon, its pink and orange hues washing the sky like a watercolour. In the distance, Faye swore she could see the twinkling lights of the mainland. A mainland she didn’t want to think about.
“How are things with Raul?” she asked, turning to Carla. “You said you were going to tell me everything if I came to poker with you.”
“We have lots of fun together.” Carla adjusted her hands on the wheel. “But we work a lot, and…he’s young.”
That pricked Faye’s skin, but Carla went on, “A few times he’s mentioned me living with him so we could see more of each other, but he was just being kind. He didn’t mean it.”
“Sounds like you’re assuming to me.” Faye’s pulse sharpened as Carla glanced at her.
“You’re assuming that because he’s younger than you, he’s not taking it seriously.
But what if he is?” She folded her hands in her lap, nails picking at the skin.
“Both of you would miss out on something great, not because you didn’t want it, but because you miscommunicated. ”
Carla clicked her tongue. “Huh. I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
The bud of hope rooted inside Faye dared to grow.
Was that what she was doing, too? Still assuming how Diana felt?
But their situation was different; it was always clear what they were getting into.
They had an arrangement: a bit of fun on the island and then part ways.
It was embarrassing to admit that it had all changed for Faye.
But what if it had changed for Diana, too?
She bit her lip, anxiety smothering the hopeful feeling before it had chance to spread. If she wasn’t sure, she couldn’t assume either. Not if she ended up regretting it for the rest of her life.
Damn Senhor Arenoso. He is a wise man.
“It’s scary, taking that risk,” she said. “But I suppose that’s what life is about, right? No risk, no reward.”
“Yes!” Carla pounded the steering wheel. “See. You’re going to be an excellent poker player. I knew it.”
Carla spent the rest of the journey explaining the different hands to Faye. Which hands beat what, what the “flop” was, and how an older woman called Filamena had the best poker face in the group.
When they arrived at the dock, a shiver rolled up Faye’s spine.
“I thought you said we weren’t going on a boat?”
Carla laughed as she switched off the engine. “Not a moving boat. Don’t worry. Your stomach is safe tonight.” She hopped out of the buggy and headed towards Duarte’s boat, which was swaying against the walkway with a gentle creak.
Faye grabbed her backpack and followed, reciting the poker hands in her head. Was it a flush or a straight that was better? She checked her watch; she should be fine without emptying her bag for a few hours. How long did poker games usually take?
Carla led them onto Duarte’s boat and into the cabin, which housed a wooden table and chairs, an overflowing coatrack, and a rusty coffee machine that looked like it might’ve been saved from a sea wreckage. She opened another door that led downstairs. “After you.”
Faye frowned. “I thought you said this wasn’t an underground den.”
Carla chuckled, patting her on the back. “Come on.” She steered her down the wooden steps. Immediately, cigar smoke hit the back of Faye’s throat. She blinked to adjust to the darkness.
Five pairs of eyes looked back at them as they entered.
The area was lit by a solitary overhead bulb.
If the lack of light was for ambience or simply the captain’s carelessness, she didn’t know, but she recognised Duarte, with his headful of dark hair and the enormous grin on his face.
Some of the other faces were familiar, but she couldn’t place them.
“Olá a todos!” Carla greeted. “We have a guest. Put out that dirty smoke.”
The men on either side of Duarte grumbled but did as she asked, extinguishing the cigars in an old tin can acting as an ashtray.
“You’ve met Duarte already, but maybe you don’t remember, because your head was hanging over the side of the boat.” Carla cracked out laughing, then pointed to the man on his right—a taller, less smiley version of the captain, but with just as much dark hair. “That’s Tiago, but—”
“Toranja,” Duarte interrupted, earning a scowl from his brother and laughter from the others.
Carla sighed, as if the very effort was draining. “But sometimes they call him Toranja.”
“Grapefruit?” Faye asked. “Why?”
“Trust me. You don’t want to know.”
Bruno, Catarina’s husband from the nature reserve and Carla’s coworker, sat on Duarte’s left.
Faye had seen Bruno a few times, but he’d never offered more than a grunt.
In the corner, a long, gangly man called Romeo perched on a chair, floppy brown hair falling over his eyes.
Faye guessed he was around twenty, although the fluffy fuzz covering his chin and cheeks made him look younger.
Filamena, the only other woman, didn’t pay either of them much attention.
She huffed as she shuffled the cards, tucking her short white hair back into her lenco—a red floral wrap tied at the nape of her neck.
Deep-set wrinkles carved ridges into her skin, but her eyes were a clear and sharp honey.