Chapter 11
Silvie
I check my phone for the tenth time in the past few minutes. I’ve been standing here waiting for Wilby at the single terminal in Coconut Beach. Eight fifty-seven. His flight landed at eight forty-three, which means he’s due at the baggage claim any moment now.
The Coconut Beach airport has exactly one baggage carousel and absolutely no sense of urgency. Here in Coconut Beach, that’s just the way. You’re on island time, and it’s pretty chill here. Everything and everyone is, including their airport.
There are three people in the baggage claim area. One of them is asleep, and another one is eating a hot dog, staring out the window. The third is me, nervous and anxious to finally see my friend.
The music flips to Free Fallin’, and the glass doors slide open.
Wilby DeSoto steps into baggage claim, and the air shifts with his larger-than-life energy.
He’s tall, fit in that quietly lethal way, all long lines and easy confidence.
His haircut is perfect, sharp at the edges, styled like he woke up handsome and stayed that way.
His skin is olive and golden, his jaw strong, his mouth unfairly nice, the kind of face that belongs on billboards or magazine covers, not waiting for luggage with the rest of us.
Linen pants, immaculate leather shoes that have never known struggle, sunglasses worn indoors because he can get away with it.
He pulls a dark, sleek, wheeled bag behind him, posture relaxed but purposeful, like he always knows where he’s headed and assumes the world will clear a path.
I don’t even pretend not to stare. Some men walk into a room.
Wilby arrives like a headline. And I love that about him.
He’s confident, sure of himself and the best friend a girl could ask for.
He looks so far out of place here on the casual island that I almost laugh. But I’m too relieved to see him.
He stops dead and looks around, sliding off his sunglasses. “Oh.”
I wave enthusiastically, and he raises an eyebrow at me, full of shock and concern.
“Welcome to paradise,” I call out.
He looks up at the ceiling and sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me that this place was tiny and smells like sunscreen and beach?”
I jog over and throw my arms around my human equivalent of a black cat personality.
He stiffens for half a second and then hugs me back tight.
We play this game where we irritate each other, but the truth is we’re besties.
Whether he likes it or not, I’ve claimed him and he’s claimed me.
We have our work hats...and then we have our friend hats.
And right now, we’re wearing our friend hats.
“You look tan and relaxed,” he says into my hair. “That’s alarming. Who are you and what have you done to my suit wearing workaholic best friend?”
“And you look overdressed. What happened to island casual?” I tease.
He scoffs. “This is casual.”
Back in New York, I dressed the same. But here? Something’s changed. I love the casual, and I’m fully embracing it. Most days, I spend in yoga shorts and a sports bra, and then in sundresses. Casual is my new favorite look.
“You’re smiling more. I’m suspiciously hopeful.” He pulls back and looks at me, eyes narrowing. “Should I be worried?”
I shake my head, grinning at him. “For once, you don’t have to worry. I’m enjoying the relaxed, summer life.” Then, I pat my stomach. “And I’m eating at all the good restaurants and food trucks, not even thinking about my dress size. My mother would be horrified at my calorie carelessness.”
“The woman turned you into a skeleton this past year. Her opinion doesn’t matter.
” He motions for me to turn around so he can admire my new curves.
When he whistles and gives my butt a little smack, I crack up laughing.
“My girl has cake now!” Then, as if scandalized, he gasps.
“What are you wearing on your feet? You went and ruined the whole look with those.”
“Flip flops?” I grin. “They’re comfortable and you don’t have to worry about sand in your shoes. All you have to do is give them a little flip and a flop and voila! Sand is gone.”
He looks pained. “I knew it. You’re becoming a local.”
I shrug. “I do live here. For now.”
Despite his razzing, there’s visible relief in his gaze. It melts my heart how much he cares for me. I know I worried him, but hopefully he’ll see how much I’ve healed since coming here.
“I knew it,” he mutters, looking around as we exit the airport. “This place is like a postcard.”
We walk out onto the street to where I parked. I brought Birdie’s golf cart here to pick him up. A woman walks by, pushing a stroller with her dog in it, and smiles at us. Wilby nods politely, then leans in. “Why did that woman seem to know you?”
“She does.” I smirk.
He blinks. “Silverlyn. Who are you? Who have you become?”
Happy. Myself. Free.
I grab his arm and pull him to the golf cart. “Come on. You need breakfast and a tour.”
Outside, the sun is already hot, beating down on us with a tropical feel. Wilby squints at the palm trees lining the parking lot. “This place is gorgeous. I’m beginning to see why you haven’t come home.”
Home.
I shudder at the thought of New York City being home. It feels like another planet right now.
“This place looks like a time capsule. Like it’s still living in analog mode.”
“It definitely fits the vibe,” I tell him.
“That’s...interesting,” he adds, still looking around and taking everything in as I stuff his suitcase behind us on the golf cart. “This is your mode of transportation?”
“Yep! Buckle up!” I call as I get in the driver’s seat.
He sighs as he slides in next to me and says, “If anyone asks, I rode in a respectable Uber.”
We ride through town, music spilling out of shops and restaurants, even though it’s barely morning. A man in board shorts waves at me from the coffee stand. Wilby takes everything in like he’s watching a nature documentary.
“Why is everyone waving at you?” Wilby asks, confused. “You haven’t even been here that long.”
“Everyone waves at everyone here. It’s not like New York,” I add.
“Yeah, if everyone smiled and waved in New York, we’d think they were psychopaths.” He cringes as if the thought is traumatizing.
I laugh. “It’s different here. It’s good for the soul. I wish everyone could come visit Coconut Beach at some point and relax. You’ll love it, Wilby. Trust the process.”
“Okay, but I’m not wearing flip flops,” he says, shaking his head with disgust.
“Trust me, by the end of the weekend, your dogs will come out to play,” I tease, knowing that sentence alone will make him crash out.
“Never, and I repeat never, say that to me ever again,” he says, giving me a look of disgust.
“No promises,” I singsong.
“So, there’s a bar called Cocktails & Chaos? That gives me Cocktail movie vibes. You know, the one with Tom Cruise, before he got all weird?” he says excitedly.
“That movie is a classic,” I agree. “B&B to check in first or Birdie’s?”
“As if you have to ask. The B&B can wait. I want to see all the things, including Birdie. Plus, I can’t check in yet anyway.”
I head in the opposite direction of his B&B. We pull up in Birdie’s little driveway that fits her golf cart. I turn to Wilby, and he’s watching me, grinning slowly. “You look happy here.”
I smile despite myself. “I am happy here.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then finally smiles. “It looks good on you.”
“Thanks,” I say as I step out and lead him up to Birdie’s cottage.
I look at it as if I’m taking it in through what he’s seeing.
It’s a light blue cottage with white trim.
It’s framed by flowering bushes, making it cozy.
There’s a small screened-in porch on the front full of plants.
I have always loved Birdie’s cottage. And I’m curious to see what Wilby thinks.
He looks around, taking it all in. I grab my purse, and Wilby screams. He jumps back onto the golf cart, holding onto it for dear life.
“Oh my God,” he says, clutching his chest. “Why is there a dinosaur?”
I glance over at the hibiscus bush where Iggy is peeking out. “Oh. That’s Iggy.”
“The prehistoric creature,” Wilby whispers, “is walking toward us.”
Iggy blinks, completely unbothered by Wilby’s emotional collapse.
I lean down and pet his head. “Hi, handsome. Did you have a good night? Did you have good dreams, buddy?”
Wilby turns to me, his eyes wild. “You named it, and you talk to it?”
“Yeah. That’s Iggy. He’s my friend.”
“No.” He shakes his head.
“Yes.”
“That’s it,” he says. “I’m having you committed. I flew down here to make sure you’re okay, and you’re talking to reptiles.”
Iggy flicks his tail, and Wilby yelps and pulls his legs up onto the seat. “How does it know I’m talking about it?”
“He’s friendly.” I shrug.
“His face says otherwise. Like he’s going to go get his gang of other iguanas and they’re going to beat me with their tails until I scream for mercy.”
Birdie opens the door right then, smiling. “Iggy, move, sweetheart.”
Iggy waddles aside, obediently.
Wilby stares in shock. “It listens?”
“Better than most humans.” Birdie beams and then gestures for Wilby to move his butt. “Come here, sugar. It’s been what...two years?”
“Yeah, you haven’t been up to New York since,” he accuses as he relaxes and gives Birdie a hug.
Birdie came to visit a few years ago and stayed with me. It’s then she met Wilby. Those two hit it off, and he always asked about her ever since. It’s impossible not to love them. There’s a reason why both are my favorite people on the planet.
“Who knew that you lived in paradise and commanded iguanas?” he says as he pats her back.
“I’m very happy here,” she says with a grin. “And happy that you both are finally here.”
He exhales. “I might never leave. New York doesn’t seem to compare anymore.”
“Wait until you’re on the beach with a cocktail, watching the dolphins,” she says, smirking.