Chapter Fifteen
By the time I get back to my hotel, I’m floating and drift into the deepest sleep of my entire life. I don’t wake up once.
The next morning, the water pressure in my shower is just right, the tinted sunscreen and mascara glide on my sun-kissed skin flawlessly. Everything seems to have a pinkish glow. The air feels even more fresh as I peer out my window to the street below. Vendors are setting up for the day, and children run through the streets blowing bubbles. The smell of fresh bread fills my room. My stomach grumbles and I grab my tote, water bottle, and head out. I knock on my mom’s suite door, but she doesn’t respond and there’s no noise coming from inside.
I feel a little guilty for the relief that runs over me. As I step off the elevator, the lobby appears even more sparkling and lavish, the smell of the sea more enticing, and as I pass a ten-foot-tall mirror hanging on the wall, I stop to admire how glowy I am. The deep-green sundress flatters my skin tone. My purple bathing suit straps peek out on my shoulders. Even my seashell necklace flashes under the lights. Something inside me has shifted, and it’s such a splendid feeling. I reread Julián’s WhatsApp message again and again. It’s only one text, a simple:
Sweet dreams, Ry. Message me anytime and I’ll be there.
But those two sentences have my heart rapidly beating out of my chest, my mouth dry, and my fingers itching to message him at least forty million times.
Am I in love? I wonder as I twirl in a circle admiring my reflection in the lobby mirror. How do people know when they’re in love, and is it possible to love someone so quickly? The heart is such a confusion-inducing organ. It flutters at the thought of him, soars at the sight of him, aches at the absence of him—is that love?
Can you love someone before you know their middle name or what makes them the happiest, or the smell that reminds them of their favorite memory?
I have no damn clue, but the way I feel about Julián is so intense that I can’t concentrate on anything else. It doesn’t matter if my eyes are open or closed; his beautiful face and warm laughter are ever present.
“Heyyy.” Amara waves to me from behind the desk, cutting off my spiraling internal monologue. The landline phone is against her ear as I approach her.
“Give me one sec, don’t go yet,” she whispers, covering the receiver. “No, we do not allow exotic pets. I’m sorry but it’s against our policy… and the law,” she politely responds in a tone reserved only for her job.
“Mhm, I completely understand, sir, but we cannot allow a tiger cub on our premises.” She rolls her eyes and waits for their response.
“Sorry, but I can’t help you further,” she finally says, hanging the phone up.
“A tiger?” I ask in disbelief, wondering where the ridiculous request is coming from since she was speaking in English.
Nodding, she laughs. “That’s far from the craziest request we’ve had.
“Did you like my customer service voice? I’ve nearly perfected it,” she jokes, flipping her curly hair behind her shoulder.
Through my laughter, I nod. “Very much.”
“So”—she leans across the marble counter—“I heard you had quite the adventure yesterday.” Her brows wiggle as my cheeks flush.
“How did you already find out?” I chew on the inside of my cheek, flashes of Julián’s hands and mouth all over me making my entire body shiver.
“This is a small island, and the service industry is even smaller. My friends were working on the boat and said some American dove off a big yacht and swam out to Julián’s boat. Obviously, that has to be you.” Her grin is contagious.
“Didn’t you encourage me to stay away from him when we met?”
“Oh, that.” She waves her hand. “I was just trying to warn you, but you can clearly handle yourself. I don’t want you to get tangled up in something that could hurt you, but you seem to be thriving. If that changes and he fucks with you, I’ll kill him and dump him in the ocean. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Amara’s gaze goes over my shoulder.
“Incoming,” she warns, nodding behind me.
My mother waltzes into the lobby with an entourage of men in suits behind her like an army. Her expression is serious and determined, slightly murderous, even. She’s snapping orders to Lena, who’s struggling to keep at my mom’s pace as they cross the concrete floor, heading toward the door.
I consider attempting to hide, but my mother is in full work mode. She barely makes eye contact for a second, nods, and keeps walking until she’s out of sight.
“Yikes. I feel for whoever has to deal with her today,” I sigh, sending Lena strength.
“Has she always been like that? The whole boss-babe, badass, take-no-shit vibe?”
I nod. “Mostly, yeah. I vaguely remember her being a little less work obsessed when I was really young, but sometimes I question my own memories, unsure if that actually happened or not. What about your parents? Are they also work obsessed and that’s why you move around?” I ask.
“The opposite. My mom, god love her, she has zero ambition, zero passion for anything outside being drunk and, on occasion, high. Work injury led her to pain pills, which led her to living in a constant state of zombiehood. My dad works but hates his job and my mom”—she smiles—“but puts up with her, thank god. So I moved away the moment I could and will never, ever , move back to my hometown. Sorry, I know I unloaded my mommy issues on you before, but it’s a habit.” She smiles again.
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“Thanks, and that’s life. I’m just grateful I get to live it.”
I lean onto the cold marble between us. Looking up at her in admiration. “Do you feel like that every day? Grateful to be alive, even if life isn’t everything it should be sometimes? The ups and the downs? They’re worth it to you?”
She nods and begins to gently caress my hair. Her affection heals a part of me that has been longing for a friend since I lost my dearest one, bit by bit, stroke by stroke.
“I’d rather live in chaos and uncertainty. Hearing my own laughter, tasting my own tears, falling in love and back out again, heartache, being loved, all the ups and downs. I can’t waste my life wondering what would have happened if I didn’t live that way. You know?”
I sigh, closing my eyes.
“I love your outlook on life. I admire it,” I say through barely parted lips, hoping to feel that way one day. Less afraid, less trapped in my own body and mind.
Now is the perfect time to explain to her about my very different outlook on life. How unfair it can be, how cruel its expiration date comes to some of us. But when I open my eyes again, she’s looking so affectionately at me, almost like she knows I’m hiding something but isn’t judging me for not sharing it, so I keep my mouth closed and do my best to etch this moment into my memory while I still have time.
“I’m so grateful I met you.”
“It’s mutual, babe,” she says as the phone begins to ring between us.
“I swear if it’s that fucking tiger guy I’m going to lose it.” She groans but changes her voice immediately back to her perky customer-service voice.
“Moltes gràcies per trucar a l’Hotel Maricel, com et puc ajudar?”
I wave goodbye to her and head out toward the pool.
Due to my mom’s busy day, my morning is free. I pick the lounge chair closest to the edge of the infinity pool and place my bag down, kicking off my sandals. The cement is warm, the grainy texture alive under my bare feet. The sun is high already, though it’s barely nine. A group of seagulls converse above me, flying low and steadily in a swoopy circle. There’s only one other person at the pool, a man whose face is covered by a newspaper, presumingly asleep.
As I walk over to a lounge chair to put on a fresh spray of sunscreen over my layer from after my shower, my impulse to message Julián has fully taken over my mind. I want to show him the pool, the birds, even the view of the sea that he sees and lives on daily. I don’t want to come across as clingy, but truth be told, the only thing I want in my life right now outside of world peace and a magical cure for my medical crap is to cling to him as hard as I can.
What the hell, who cares if he thinks I’m clingy? He showed up on a damn boat yesterday. So why am I nervous to message him? I grab my phone from my bag and send him a picture of the pool.
Want some company?
His immediate response eases my nerves. I nod, laughing at myself for being so giddy and not realizing he can’t see me.
Yes please. The seagulls are speaking in Spanish and I need a translator
On my way
As promised, he shows up within ten minutes. I shield my eyes from the sun as I watch him approach; his confidence radiates brighter than the sun. I missed him, I realize, I missed him with a deep ache in my chest, and it’s been less than twelve hours since I was with him.
“I missed you,” he tells me, as if he read my mind.
He leans down to meet my eyes, his palm scooping around my chin to lift it.
“Your eyes are different again? One’s lighter?” He tilts my head a little, inspecting me.
“Shit. My contacts. I usually wear brown contacts so they both match, but I forgot this morning. I keep forgetting lately. I’ve been distracted.” I’ve been more than a little distracted by the constant thoughts of Julián since I first laid eyes on him.
“Why do you hide them? I noticed before at the cabana when we were drinking, but I didn’t want to just ask you.”
“It’s not that I’m hiding them… I mean, I guess I am. But it gives me anxiety to have people making eye contact with me, commenting, drawing unwanted attention over something I have no control over. Sounds like such a silly thing to complain about, but it really started bothering me.”
He nods his head slowly. “I get it, really. I do.
“Is the light one blue or green?” he asks, peering closer.
I can’t tell if he’s teasing me since he’s near enough to see the color up close, but his tone feels genuine.
“What do you mean? It’s green. I get it, it’s weird to look at. I was teased my entire childhood over it, so I started wearing contacts when I was in middle school.”
“Not weird. I just wish I could see it clearly. I have trouble with separating blue and green, yellow and red, mostly.”
“You’re color-blind?” I ask, not sure why I’m so surprised by this.
He nods. “Yeah, always have been.” He shrugs and leans in a little closer. “You should stop hiding your beautiful eyes.” I close them as he plants a kiss on the lid of each one.
I’m tempted to ask him more about his color-blindness, curious how the ocean looks to him, how I look to him, but I know how it feels when someone is probing you over something you can’t control and I’m the last person who would intentionally want to make someone feel like a lab rat, like something about them is wrong or broken.
“I missed you, too, by the way,” I say instead.
He smiles, pleased to hear it. “You did?”
I nod. “Mhmm.”
“The seagulls said otherwise,” he teases.
“Did they, now?”
He nods, pointing at them. “They flew to my place to tell me you’re out here in a tiny bikini flirting with some guy.” He gestures toward the man and leans in to kiss my chin, then my lips.
My jaw untenses, falling open, and I pull him by his T-shirt to kiss me again. His mouth is welcoming, somehow already familiar to me. I sink into the chair, every muscle and inch of my skin melting around my bones, softening my entire body.
He moves his mouth to my forehead, gently placing a kiss there.
“I don’t want to get too carried away and wake up our friend there.” He motions toward the sleeping man again.
“Those seagulls have been gossiping since I came out here. I don’t know how he’s slept through it,” I tell him as he sits down on the lounge chair next to mine.
“Ah.” He pauses, watching the birds in the sky. “Really?” He pretends to speak with them, and it’s so effortlessly funny as he taps his chin, a fake look of concern on his face.
“Oh no. They are worried about me,” he whispers, tilting his head to continue the bit. I laugh but feign paranoia.
“Really? Why?” I whisper back, cupping my mouth.
He leans over. “They’re worried that I’ve been brainwashed by a sexy, smart, funny American girl.”
“Damn it, they figured it out. Damn seagulls.” I raise my middle finger to them, and he falls back laughing.
“They said, and I quote, ‘Fuck you too.’ But don’t worry, I’ll cuss them out later and avenge you by not feeding them.”
“So, have you?” I sit up, putting my elbows on my knees, taking him in. The freckles on his cheeks are darker today, resembling a map of stars. “Been brainwashed, I mean?” I clarify.
“I’m afraid so,” he sighs, scooting the lounge chair even closer to me. “Capitalism wins again.”
“Ha. Ha. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve also been brainwashed by you.”
His expression is full of surprise, which I find equally as surprising given our time together, especially yesterday, and the fact that we haven’t gone a day without seeing each other since we met.
“It does make me feel better.” His grin is cocky yet charming. “Did you wake up thinking about me? I’m asking for a friend, of course.”
“Which friend?”
He looks up. “The seagulls.”
“I don’t think I should give them any more information about me. They’re already trying to sabotage me.”
“Your humor is perfect,” he says, making me flush.
The intensity of the slight language barrier is thrilling in moments like this. Or maybe he’s just the type of person who says what he feels? Either way, it’s refreshing and not at all what I expected from someone who looks the way he does. He could have any and every woman, and man, on this island, but here he is, sitting poolside with me on a Tuesday morning. I’m not thinking that in a self-deprecating sense, just glad he’s going out of his way to show me that he’s as into me as I am him.
“What are you considering right now? I can see the wheels spinning in your mind.” He circles his fingers around next to his ears, then opens his arms wide for me. I move to his chair, sitting between his legs, scooting down a little so my back is against his chest. Leaning my head back, I rest against his skin. I can feel his heart beating the most perfect rhythm.
“I was thinking how you could be anywhere but you’re here with me,” I admit at the risk of sounding insecure.
He wraps his arms tighter around my body. His skin is warm against my upper back. Our bodies fit together perfectly; yesterday on the boat was all the proof I needed of that.
“The only other place I could be is work, and this is more enjoyable.” Soft laughter falls against my ears, and he continues. “This part isn’t a joke.” Nervousness plays in his tone. “I mean every single word.” His hands gently squeeze my shoulders, kissing the top of each.
“I’m exactly where I want to be, and that’s damn terrifying, but I’m going to do my best with how confusing this feels, okay?”
His words come out as a timid warning, but I actively choose to ignore the alarm going off inside my overly active mind and respond with a silent nod. Whatever will happen will happen, and being worried about the potential of something going wrong isn’t fair to myself or to our limited time together. This feeling, whether it’ll be fleeting or not, is everything I imagined and more, and sure as hell worth any pain that will come later. I’m more of a risk than he is, and I wish I wasn’t too selfish to disclose that to him.
“Shall we swim?” he suggests.
Reluctantly I get up from the lounge chair and he pulls me toward the water.
As we float, my body wrapped around his, we glide around the pool, sometimes talking, sometimes letting the silence simmer between us. The water, to my surprise, is salt water, and I should have warned Julián when I smelled it, but he quickly found that out in the worst way, by taking a gulp to spit out at me. Our sleepy guest wakes up as we burst into laughter and Julián coughs, cursing in Spanish. With a grunt, the man mumbles something incoherent and heads back into the hotel, probably to finish his nap.
Julián bounces gently, holding me in his arms, my thighs and arms wrapped around his strong body as we glide through the warm, empty pool.
“It’s so easy with you. All my problems from my family’s business, my doubts and worries, all the things I usually focus too much on, they don’t cross my mind when you’re around, Oriah. I want to spend every waking moment with you. It hasn’t been like this before for me. Ever. I don’t feel like I need to hide, not from you, Ry.”
“Oriah?” My mother’s voice slices through our moment; I nearly jump out of my skin and the water, hoping I’m imagining her standing there.
Without thinking, I push Julián away and stand up straight in the shallow water. I was so lost in Julián’s words that I hadn’t heard the click of her heels approach.
“Mom,” I say, letting Julián know who this woman with a death glare directed at him is.
My mother’s attention drags between Julián and me, slowly repeating as if she’s trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. Me in the embrace of a man. I can imagine why it would surprise her, but I silently plead with my eyes for her not to treat me like a child in front of him.
“Hello, I’m Julián Garcia.” Julián pops out of the pool to politely greet her, wiping his hand on his wet shorts before stretching out his still-wet hand toward her.
Her face pales, and both of their bodies go rigid as the space between them seems to pulse. My heart quickens. Something’s wrong.
“You’re… wait, you’re…” He looks over and down at me, his face twisted in confusion, and then straight back to my mom.
“You’re Isolde Pera,” he says with a stony certainty, my mother’s name sounding like a curse rolling off his tongue.
How on earth does he know her name?
His attention snaps to me.
“She’s your mother? I knew you looked familiar. This vile woman who came here to demolish our business and bleed our land dry is your mother?” His voice is full of venom, a deep hatred for her that has my head spinning.
I grip my hands around the stony edge of the pool, trying to pull myself up, but the roaring behind my ears makes it hard. It takes several attempts before I join them on the hot cement. Water drips from my body as I try to grasp what the hell the problem between them is.
My mother’s face is whiter than a sheet of paper. Her eyes are steel, her chin set. I can practically see her temper flaring. She’s trying to appear as unbothered as stone, but I know better.
“How do you two… What the hell is going on?” I finally manage to speak through the fog in my brain.
Julián’s index finger points toward my mother and she takes a step back.
“She’s the one I’ve been talking about. Her and her greed have come here to steal the land we own and build another useless luxury resort on top of it. She’s killing our island, and you—” I can hear the pain in his voice.
“You’re her accomplice. That’s why you’re here.” His eyes go wide as if he’s piecing together a puzzle that he’s spent years trying to connect. “You told me you’ve been working on a charity thing and came to live a free summer? Bullshit. Your happy-go-lucky summer is putting my family and our workers out of their jobs. How fucking typical.”
I whirl to my silent mother. “Mom, what is he talking about? Is the company you’ve been talking about his?”
She swallows before she speaks, her lip quivering as if she’s in the presence of a ghost. Confrontation usually makes her morph into a stronger, bigger version of herself, not shrink the way she is now. I take a breath, wondering if she’s going to crush him like a bug as she typically would any man who speaks to her in that type of tone.
“It’s more complicated than that, Ry. I can explain it to you, but this isn’t personal.”
Julián laughs, a sickened, roaring, angry noise from deep in his chest. “You liar. You destroyed my pare’s life, broke his heart. You’ve kept him in an eternal prison, longing for a selfish ghost of a woman he loved as a child, and now you’re here to put the final nail in his coffin under the pretense of charity and building a hotel on our land? Disgusting. Both of you.” He spits at her feet, and she blinks hard as he storms off.
“Julián, wait!” I try to catch up to him, but when I do, he yanks his arm away from me.
“Do not touch me! Stay away from me! I never want to see your face again. Just go back to where you came from and never, ever come back here.”
The warmth, the comfort, the familiar Julián I had fallen in love with is gone. The man in front of me is cold, full of ice and metal, no sign of the smiling, endearing Julián. My Julián.
My heart cracks, my knees buckle as I grab on to an umbrella stand to keep my body from collapsing.