13. Caftan
Caftan
Knox
A soft wind blew through the trees, stirring Victoria. I smiled as I looked down at her. Her leg was thrown over my hip, and her head rested on my shoulder with her eyes closed.
I’m in fucking paradise.
We rocked softly in a hammock that we cobbled together out of scraps—some vines, rope, and the seat belts we scavenged from the plane. I was surprised it could hold both of us, but there we were, swaying as if we didn’t have a care in the world.
Her hair smelled like her coconut conditioner, and despite how hot it was, I couldn’t help but hold her tighter.
She heaved a satisfied sigh and ran her hand up and down my well-defined abs.
I was astounded and mesmerized that she was still the epitome of beauty after everything—plane crash, mosquitoes, lack of food and basic human necessities, and harsh sun.
“I think it’s been six weeks,” I murmured.
Her long lashes fluttered, and in the next second, she stared up at me with her gorgeous eyes.
“Six weeks? That’s it? It feels like it’s been a hell of a lot longer than that. It feels like forever,” she said softly before closing her eyes again. “This almost feels like a vacation,” she admitted.
“An extended vacation,” I chuckled.
“Don’t get me wrong—I still miss hot water, my food delivery app, and Wi-Fi, but I think I’m starting to get to that point of acceptance, you know?”
I nodded. I never considered myself an optimist or a pessimist, but a realist. And the reality was that we hadn’t seen a single helicopter, plane, cruise, or cargo ship since our arrival.
“I’m offended.”
“How so?” she asked with uncertainty.
“I’m your food delivery app.”
She snorted, and I grinned. I knew she was about to follow up with a slick comment.
“Knox, leave me alone. There is a big difference between you bringing me a damn turtle and a twenty-piece lemon pepper wing, all flats with bleu cheese.”
“That turtle was delicious,” I insisted.
“It was aight by stranded-on-an-island standards, but we’re not gonna pretend that eating a turtle is better than wings.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, but there are things I wish as well.”
“Like what?”
“Like the coffee you make me every morning.”
“I spit in it every morning.”
I sighed and tightened my arms around her. “I know… that’s what makes it so delicious.”
“You’re disgusting. I never spat in your coffee, weirdo.”
“My day will come,” I said hopefully.
“We should probably get out of the sun because you’re clearly having a heat stroke.
“Relax,” I said, laughing, pulling her back down to me. “I’m joking.” It took me a struggling minute, but I’d finally gotten her settled down. We lay there in silence for several minutes before I finally said something. “Your friends and family must be worried sick about you,” I murmured.
Victoria scoffed. It was a mixture of a laugh and a disbelieving snort.
“The person I spent most of my time with is right here with me.” I smiled at that before I realized what it meant.
Victoria’s relationships probably suffered because of me and my attempts to consume every single waking moment of her life.
“I’m sure my sisters are having a field day doing interviews, sobbing, and telling lies on camera about how close we were and how much they missed me.
Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started a GoFundMe and started cashing in on my disappearance,” she said matter-of-factly.
It’s the certainty in that statement that makes it so sad.
“What about you?” she asked, hiking her leg up higher on my hip. “What about your family and friends?”
“Oh, you know, the one person I spent most of my time with is right here with me,” I joked, pulling a soft chuckle from her.
“Fair enough, but answer the question.”
I looked up through the canopy of palm trees and considered what I’d tell her. There wasn’t much to tell.
“I don’t know. My father passed away a few years ago. I wouldn’t say we got along, but then again, I wouldn’t say we didn’t. We just… existed.”
“And your mother?”
“She is alive and well, and is a bossy pain in the ass. Unfortunately, we don’t see each other often.”
“Does she not live nearby?”
“She’s an hour away.”
Victoria pursed her lip and pushed herself up. That inch of space between us made me anxious. I felt like a fool when I realized she was repositioning so that we could be nose-to-nose.
“And you don’t see each other often?” she whispered as if we were telling secrets that should be taken to the grave. Shockingly, it made me want to open up more.
“What can I say? Work got in the way. Finding work-life balance is hard when you’re at the top.”
“You probably should’ve paid attention when viewing the work-life balance module—”
“Fuck the modules,” I interrupted. Victoria snickered at my disdain for the stupid training videos.
I felt her fingers gently caress my face, and just like that, I was bewitched by her all over again.
The tender moments between us had increased since sleeping together.
Every morning began with sensual wake-up kisses that eventually led to passionate love-making.
We held hands on our daily trip to the falls and languidly washed each other with no sense of hurry.
Despite the sex, the physical gratification, and the lessening of threats against my life, the best thing Victoria gave me was a warm, welcoming smile when I returned from fishing.
I felt as if I redeemed myself in her eyes—that she’d truly forgiven me for intentionally acting like an ass towards her.
I’d been doing some deep self-reflection during my daily alone time, and it took a few sessions for me to realize that I didn’t purposely get under Victoria’s skin because I loved her feisty reaction.
Don’t get me wrong, I love it when we engage in intense banter, but…
I purposely mistreated her because I was insecure.
I thought there was no way she’d consider me anything but her domineering middle-aged boss—nothing more, nothing less.
So, instead of being a gentleman and asking her out, despite some outdated fraternization policy, I was a dick because I feared rejection.
“Do you think we’re going home?” Victoria asked.
“Do you want me to tell you the truth or a lie?”
She smiled weakly. “Lie to me, Knox.”
“A few more months, and we’ll be back in civilization.”
She laughed and buried herself back into my embrace.
“I wonder what life will be like when we return,” she mused thoughtfully.
“Hectic. There will be constant requests for interviews from the media. The deceased crew members’ families will try to sue me.”
“For what?” she questioned, voice rising an octave from disbelief.
“A fucking money grab, what else?”
“You’re right. Would you settle to get it over with?”
“Absolutely. It would probably cost less for me to settle than to have my lawyer fight a class action lawsuit.”
“That’s fucked up. I can’t wait to get my settlement check.”
“Seriously?” I groaned, rolling out of the hammock. She laughed and followed suit.
“I’m going to be the first one in line for my check for emotional distress—not because you forced me on this trip and the plane crashed, but because I’m subjected to seeing you walk around in my caftan dress. Take that shit off, Knox.”
“Sorry, no can do. It feels so soft. Plus, I can let my dick and balls breathe without being obscene.”
Victoria
“I have a question,” I said, handing Knox a half-melted candy bar for his dessert after we indulged in a dinner of fruit and turtle soup: turtle meat floating in a seaweed and coconut milk broth.
“I might have an answer.”
“I have two questions, actually.”
“Hit me.”
“First, why the hell do you have my bonnet on?”
“To protect my curls. Next question.”
This man gets on my everlasting nerves. He has the gall to be so nonchalant when he’s dressed like someone’s Big Mama.
“Your hair is getting a little hang time, and now you’re acting brand new.”
“A little? I can put it in a ponytail now. As you would say, you’re hating.”
“Knox Sharkeisha Ramsey, ain’t nobody hating on you.”
“Hey. I kinda like that,” he said, chuckling at my diss.
“You would,” I huffed, staring into the fire.
“It has a nice little ring to it.”
“When are you going to tell me your middle name?”
“When we’re rescued,” he answered honestly.
Okay…probably never.
“Who hurt you?”
“Excuse me?” he asked. His brow raised to the top of his head, and he paused, licking the chocolate wrapper.
“I don’t believe the workaholic bit, and that’s why you’re a forever bachelor. Somebody hurt you.”
He remained silent but resumed his licking activities. I looked away briefly.
This man is licking this wrapper in the same reverent way he licks my cat.
“You first,” he said, catching me off guard.
“Excuse me?” It was my turn to question him in disbelief.
“I don’t believe the overworked executive assistant bit. You’re a very intelligent and attractive woman with a heart of gold, Victoria. You could have any man you desire.”
“And you’re a wealthy, handsome man with a heart of coal. You could have any woman you desire,” I rebutted.
He snickered. “You forgot intelligent.”
“I didn’t forget. That was intentional.”
“I have the woman I desire,” he answered casually, not realizing that he was making my heart do illegal Simone Biles moves in my chest.
“Anyway, what’s your story? What’s her name?”
“You first.”
“I asked first,” I argued back.
“I have to go last for dramatic effect.”
“Why do you always have to be so fucking difficult? Damn,” I muttered. “His name was Desmond Banks—”
“Desmond Banks? Why does that name sound familiar?” Knox asked, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to pinpoint why his name was ringing a bell.
“He was my high school sweetheart, and we dated throughout college. He played football and was drafted to—”
“The New York Mariners!” Knox exclaimed.
“Gold star for you,” I said with a weak smile.
“But anyway, we had this long ass history together.” I fell back on the blanket I was sitting on and propped myself up on my elbow, making myself comfortable for our trauma dump session.
“He sold me this dream and told me that we’d live in a big ass house on a hill, drive luxury cars, and jet set around the world.
It all sounded good to me, but I was a fool.
I should’ve known better when his version of “the dream” only included materialistic things.
He never mentioned marriage or children or shit like that; that should’ve been an eye-opener, but I was young, dumb, and in love. ”
“What happened?” Knox asked softly, looking like he was on the edge of his seat.
“The NFL draft was coming up, and we knew he was a shoo-in, but it was also around the time of my mom’s surgery—same day, actually.
I had a choice—be there for my mother or be there for my man.
I chose my mother, and as my reward, I watched my man on draft day, sitting on the couch, with his tutor beside him. ”
“Shit,” Knox whispered. “He left you for a white girl.”
I collapsed against the blanket and laughed until I almost threw up my lungs. “Wh-what do you know about that?” I asked, still laughing.
“It’s not hard to put two and two together. I’ve seen those NFL draft couches.”
I pulled myself back up and crossed my legs. “Yeah… well… it is what it is. Desmond gets the call, and he, Kendall, and his goofy ass mama jump off the couch in celebration.”
“Uh-oh, I hear some animosity there with his mother.”
I rolled my eyes. “Desmond was a huge mama’s boy, and she was always in his ear, and his mother could do no wrong in his eyes, even when she was dead ass wrong.
She stayed in our business and made it seem like whatever I did for him wasn’t good enough.
I remember one time she came over to his place on a Sunday, and I had spent all day meal-prepping for him for the week and made his Sunday dinner.
She came breezing in with a Sunday feast that rivaled any Thanksgiving dinner and bitched and complained about the food I made for her “precious baby” and how I needed to step my game up, not taking into account that her “precious baby” was a fucking athlete and didn’t need to be eating soul food every time he turned around. ”
“It wouldn’t have ever worked out,” Knox mumbled.
“No, it wouldn’t have, but I swallowed down my pride because I was still holding out for that fucking house on the hill.
But back to draft day. They’re all hugging, kissing, praising Jesus—the whole nine yards.
My dodo bird self sat there beside my mother in the hospital room and cried.
And that’s not the worst fucking part. For a split second, I hated that I chose my mother.
I never felt so fucking low in my entire life.
That no-good, cheating ass son-of-a-bitch was on live TV proposing to his tutor from the spring semester with his trifling ass mama jumping in the background like Drew Carey invited her down to play Plinko!
and all I could think about was that it should’ve been me. ”
“I’m sorry, Victoria.”
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, Knox. The ancestors got him back. As you very well know, he blew his knee out in his first game and never stepped on another football field again.”
“Serves him right.”
“His fiancée left him, too.”
“Of course. She was only there for the check,” he co-signed.
“I thought him blowing out his knee was the icing on the cake, but the sweetest revenge was when he lost everything and tried spinning the block.”
“Spinning the block? What does that mean?”
“He tried to come back.”
“Fuck that,” Knox exclaimed, rightfully offended for both of us.
“Mhm. He tried limping right back into my life, telling me he made a mistake, and I always held him down, and we were always meant to be together, blah, blah, blah. I told that boy to kick rocks and to make sure he got back home before the streetlights came on unless he wanted to see his mama waiting on the stoop with a belt in her hand.”
“That sounds satisfying,” Knox said with an appreciative hum.
“It was.”
“And you never dated after that?” he asked curiously.
“I dated here and there, but nothing serious. Truthfully, dating wasn’t high on my priority list, and then I started working for your bitch ass, and that left no room for dating,” I explained.
“If it makes you feel better. My fiancée attempted to murder me.”