Chapter Twelve #2
“Lucy, this is Chloe and Charles,” he says, placing a light hand on the small of my back as I rise. “And this is Lucy.”
Charles shakes my hand and says, “Looks like we weren’t the only ones who decided to come early.”
Jack smirks. “Great minds think alike.”
I glance over at Jack as their exchange clicks. He brought me early on purpose. I don’t say anything, but a corner of my mouth lifts.
Jack gestures for Chloe to take the loveseat beside me, while he and Charles drop into the club chairs across from us.
Jack was right. I instantly adore Chloe.
She’s funny, sharp, and effortlessly charismatic.
The kind of woman who talks with her whole body and makes you feel like you’ve known her forever.
“Wait a second,” I say, pausing mid-story as recognition hits. “I’ve read some of your books! There was one I read a couple of years ago that I couldn’t stop talking about!”
Chloe claps her hands together. “Really! Which one?”
“The one about the missing elementary teacher. I devoured it on a trip to Miami.”
Her face lights up as she leans closer. “Stop, I love that! Okay, be honest, when did you figure out the twist?”
“Not until embarrassingly late,” I admit.
She gives my hand a squeeze. “Excellent. I can’t stand when someone tells me they saw it coming on page five. Like, ‘no you didn’t, Cindy.’”
We laugh, and I glance over and meet Jack’s gratified gaze with wide eyes. “Wait a minute. You know I love Chloe’s books!”
Jack laughs, mischief in his eyes. “I can neither confirm nor deny.” Despite how much I’m trying to move on, this is the man I’ve always loved—kind, playful, adoring. How do I move on from this?
I clear my throat. “Jack mentioned y’all have kids?” I ask, needing to change the subject before I’m overwhelmed.
“A boy and a girl,” Charles confirms. “This is our first trip away without them in a while, just the two of us.”
“And we are thriving,” Chloe adds, eyes twinkling. “I love my babies, but I hadn’t eaten a hot breakfast that I didn’t cook in months.”
“Cheers to that,” I say, clinking her glass.
“We’re staying at The Dunmore,” she tells me. “It’s been amazing. We’ve got one more night after this, and I don’t want to leave,” she glances back at her husband with a wistful smile.
“Lucky you,” I say, sipping my Sky Juice, my favorite Bahamian cocktail made with fresh coconut water and gin. “I love The Dunmore.”
“It’s always been her favorite.” Jack’s staring at me as he says it.
Chloe glances between us, a gleam in her eye. We order a round of appetizers to share, spicy shrimp, the daily crudo, and salty plantain chips warm from the fryer. The conversation flows easily, and at some point, Chloe tugs me toward the makeshift dance floor in front of the band.
“We’re dancing,” she announces as she pulls me in, and soon we’re spinning as the band plays a Caribbean song I don’t recognize but instantly love. Jack and Charles hang back, watching us with matching amused expressions as they chat about stocks and accounts, I’m guessing.
“You’re both lame!” Chloe calls out.
Jack raises a hand in surrender. “Someone’s gotta hold the table.”
“Excuses,” she mouths, but ten minutes later we successfully drag them up to join us.
By the time we collapse back in our seats I’m a sweaty, happy mess.
“This is the best night,” Chloe declares, fanning herself with her napkin. “I don’t want it to end.”
“Then let’s not yet,” Charles says, leaning back against the cushion of his chair and glancing at Jack and me. “Another drink somewhere?”
Jack turns toward me, waiting but not pressuring.
And I could. I could keep going and stretch the night a little further. It’s tempting. But I know myself. And this moment already feels whole, and more than I expected.
“I need to tap out while I’m ahead,” I say, smiling apologetically at Chloe. “But you guys go. The night is young and you’re on vacation.”
She leans in, angling her phone toward me and showing me my Instagram account. “Okay, but before you escape, is this you?”
I laugh, nodding as I follow her back.
“Good,” she says, satisfied. “I’m keeping you.”
Jack’s eyes twinkle proudly beside me. “Everyone keeps Lucy.”
I study his face, entirely too relaxed, and I wonder if he meant to say that out loud.
Jack and I walk back toward his golf cart in an easy silence.
He’s carrying leftovers, a half a slice of key lime pie Chloe insisted we take.
When we reach the cart, he walks me around to the passenger side.
Jack hasn’t even made it to the driver’s side before a heavy raindrop hits my shoulder, followed by a fierce boom of thunder.
Jack glances up just as a raindrop hits him on the forehead. “Uh oh.”
One breath later the sky cracks open, dumping warm rain in heavy sheets. Within seconds we’re drenched. My green silk dress clings to me, molding to my skin. Beside me, Jack’s linen shirt goes sheer, the muscles of his back visible beneath it. His hair drips, curls loosening.
“Oh my God!” I yelp, pushing my wet hair off my face. “This came out of nowhere!”
Jack’s shoulders shake as he laughs, water collecting on his eyelashes. He lifts one hand from the wheel to swipe it away, useless.
“You want me to pull over?” he shouts over the rain.
His voice is warm, teasing, like he knows I’m actually thrilled to be caught in a storm.
As Jack turns left at the corner by Coral House, he pulls us to a stop against the pink stucco wall, the golf cart tucked beneath the heavy spill of bougainvillea.
It muffles the rain, like someone lowered the volume on the night.
Steam rises from the pavement around us, and for a second, neither of us says anything.
Our hair drips, our shoulders rise and fall, and the night smells like salt and wet flowers.
Jack catches me watching him, breath uneven from laughter.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “Just…drenched.”
His gaze drops, briefly, to where my dress clings. Heat sparks up my spine.
Jack glances sideways, lips parted like he’s about to say something.
“What?” I ask, breathless, too aware of how close our knees are.
He shakes his head, but the look lingers. “Nothing. Just…I love being with you. Even in a golf cart in a thunderstorm.”
My stomach flips. Warm, dangerous.
Jack clears his throat, fingers tapping once against the wheel like he’s remembering what he’s supposed to be doing. “Alright,” he says, “let’s try this again, shall we?”
He nudges the golf cart forward, tires splashing through shallow puddles. The bougainvillea canopy falls away and the rain rises to full volume again, warm and relentless. Thunder rolls, low and close.
We don’t talk at first. The kind of silence that is full of everything neither of us managed to say back there. Water drums against the plastic roof. Streetlights blur through the rain, turning the pastel houses into watercolor.
Jack brakes gently at a tight turn, and our knees brush once then settle against each other, warm through the soaked fabric. Jack goes very, very still.
“You cold?” he asks, eyes still on the road.
“A little,” I admit.
He exhales through his nose, quiet, and reaches across the small space between us. His fingers find my wrist, circling it lightly, his thumb brushing the thin stretch of skin there.
“You have goosebumps,” he murmurs. My pulse leaps against his thumb. His eyes flick down as if he felt it, then back to the road, jaw tightening just a little. He doesn’t let go.
Rain continues to drum against the roof in steady sheets.
The world outside blurs, but all I can feel is the steady spread of heat where his hand holds mine.
He gives the slightest squeeze, barely there, and I think, for a breath, he might say something he can’t take back.
Instead, he guides us around the corner into my drive, knuckles white on the wheel.
Jack rolls us to a stop in front of Lazy Daisy, the windows glowing warm against the storm. The rain hits harder here, drumming on the roof like applause.
Jack finally looks at me, and something in his expression softens. “You looked really happy tonight, Luce,” he says. “I love seeing you like that.”
Warmth spills beneath my ribs.
“And, I mean…” He gestures vaguely at my soaked hair and clinging dress, a tiny curve to his mouth. “Even drenched in a thunderstorm, you’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
My breath catches. His hand is still loosely around mine, thumb unconsciously brushing once before he catches himself. He goes still. The rain drums around us.
Jack’s voice dips. “I missed talking to you like this. Like we did tonight.”
The admission is small, but it means more than any compliment.
I lean in without thinking, just an inch. He does too. My knees slide between his thighs, and my free hand curves around his neck. His other hand grips my thigh, and the air between us thickens. His eyes flick down to my lips and back up to meet my gaze.
“Lucy,” he says, barely a whisper. “Tell me to stop.”
I don’t.
We hover there, foreheads touching, breath mingling, close enough to feel the shape of a kiss. My heart trips over itself. His hand tightens slightly around mine, not pulling. Steadying me.
Lightning flashes and I jump, breaking the moment. I exhale and lift my forehead from his with a soft shake of my head.
“I should go in.”
He swallows, jaw flexing once as he nods.
“Yeah,” he says gently. “Go warm up.”
He lets go of my hand slowly, and the absence aches.
“You want to come in and borrow a towel?” I ask, helplessly wringing out the end of my dress.
“I’m okay,” he says. “I’ve been through worse for a good night.”
I smile, shaking my head as I climb out. Water squishes loudly between my toes as I run toward the porch. When I reach the covered steps, I glance back.
Jack’s still sitting there in the rain, elbow hooked over the wheel, watching me as if it isn’t pouring sheets all around him. He looks so good it hurts, and for a second I consider running back to him. To a kiss I know will be all-consuming.
“Night, Luce,” he calls. The heat in his eyes is palpable even from here.
My voice barely makes it past the lump in my throat. “Night.”
After a long, hot shower, I’m sitting on the end of my bed in pajamas when my phone buzzes.
Jack: Tonight reminded me of that Junkanoo night a few summers ago. Those ridiculous squeaky sandals of yours, and that thunderstorm. Still one of my favorite nights.
A grin tugs at my lips before I even realize I’ve started typing.
Me: That was the best night, wasn’t it?
And then a couple of beats later a scene tugs at my memory.
Me: You forgot about having to give me your shirt because mine became completely see-through.
Jack: No I didn’t.
A long pause, then:
Jack: You looked really great in that shirt.
I stare at the screen.
Me: Which one?
There’s a long pause.
Jack: Both.
My pulse is everywhere. Before I can stop it, my mind goes straight back.
To Jack standing behind me, hands warm and steady as he tugged my shirt over my head, the night air cool against my skin.
The way he pressed his mouth to my shoulder like he was trying to memorize me.
Like he had all the time in the world and none at all.
I think of Jack’s hands at my hips, the familiar weight of him, the way he always slowed things down right when I wanted to rush. His mouth at my throat, my name said like a promise.
I start typing something reckless, backspace, start again. He beats me to it.
Jack: Get some sleep, okay?
Jack: Good night, Luce.
There’s care in those words. And restraint. But I still feel the want.
Me: Night, Jack.
I set my phone down before I can admit anything else.