Chapter 7
The restroom is eerily quiet after the noise outside on the dock.
It’s only after wringing out my hair in the sink that I sense someone behind me.
Tabitha stares at me, a tiny smile on her lips.
“I wouldn’t get so happy if I were you,” she says ominously.
“Um . . . Tabitha. My name is Carmela. I don’t know what history you and Keston had, but . . . .”
“Have,” she interrupts.
“What?”
“We still have history. Women like you come and go. He always returns to me. We’ve been a couple since secondary school, and no one has changed that.”
“Oh.” I feel a knife twist in my stomach. She sounds so certain.
Her words, “Women like you,” linger in the air.
As if reading my mind, she says, “Tourists.”
I flinch as if I’ve been slapped.
“You think St. Nicholas is beautiful. Just fun and games. Until reality sets in and you discover how difficult it is to live without your food delivery, your overnight packages. Then you go scurrying back up north. To your comfy homes and your Targets.”
Whoa.
Has this woman read my mind for real?
Just this morning, I was wishing for a Target. That famous red dot store where I can buy everything from bras to books. Target is my biggest fantasy down here.
“Just don’t hurt him. Again.”
She flicks her hair over her shoulder and saunters out.
I’m left standing in a puddle of sink water, my denim shorts creased and my tee shirt damp. My hair is a wild, curly mess, and I have no makeup to hide behind.
But I can only think about her warning not to hurt Keston again.
What if he hurts me first? What if I give up my entire life for him, and he leaves me?
For the beautiful Tabitha.
A St. Nicholas islander. With whom he has a romantic history.
How come he never mentioned her?
Just when I was basking in the glow of Keston’s words that one day we’d be married, the Universe cast a chill over my heart, with lingering fears about our future creeping in.