Chapter 11
Keston and I rejoin the pirate party. I’m avoiding Tabitha’s missile-seeking eyes at all costs.
The band’s short break is over. The lead singer says in a deep, sexy voice, “Good evening, mateys. My name is Carlos Campbell, and we are The Mangoes.You can catch us every Friday and Saturday night at the Shipwreck Tavern.”
“The Mangoes? Such a cute name,” I chuckle.
Keston’s lips slide into a smirk. “As cute as the Cranberries?”
I choke on my comeback.
“Or as cute as the Black Eyed Peas.” He ticks off his fingers. “Or Bread? Not to mention, Cream.Who names their band, Cream?”
I’m not sure if it’s the rum punch’s fault that I find Keston’s defense of The Mangoes so funny, but I’m almost falling over with the giggles.
When I finally control myself, I gasp, “You forgot the Smashing Pumpkins.”
“There’s no such group,” Kes snorts.
“Uh huh.”
He tickles me and I burst out laughing again.
“There is,” I swear.
“What are some of their songs?”
I rack my brain. “I don’t know any off the top of my head. But I’m not making it up. Can I help it if your musical knowledge is lacking?”
Keston’s white-toothed grin lights up his face. “That’s why I love you.”
“Why?” I sober up.
“You’re not afraid to hurt my feelings.”
“Oh, you’re just now figuring that out?”
He grimaces. “Maybe I’m a sucker for pain. But I don’t have to wonder what you’re thinking. It’s the secret of our relationship. You always let me know.”
Nuh uh. Right now, I’m burying my feelings of unease about you and Tabitha’s past.
I don’t say that aloud though. I leave the skepticism and doubt to hover in midair like twin boomerangs ready to swing back my way when I least expect them.
“I always heard the secret to a strong relationship is compromise,” I speak confidently, relaying the wisdom I learned from my girlfriends.
He lets out a loud, “Bahahaha.”
“What’s so funny?” My hands curl into fists, ready to rumble.
“You compromise?” He shakes his head. “Does that concept exist in your CJ world?”
I swat his arm. Sometimes I can’t tell if he’s joking. Or hiding truths with humor.
Another reason not to live together yet. Suppose he isn’t joking. And this is all a set-up for a huge letdown.
Like what happened with Marcus. After five long years of dating a man I believed would want to marry and start a family, only to find out he had no such intention.
Imagine going through that again at my age?
Forty is the new thirty in every way but one. And honestly, I’m ready to get married to a man I love. Ready to have children. And a dog and a cat and . . . maybe, even learn to compromise.
“Earth to CJ.” Keston waves a hand in front of my face.
“What?” I snarl. Why’d he ruin my beautiful fantasy? I was just about to bake a dream pie or two.
“What can I do for you?” I huff.
“Woman, stop stressing about whether you can learn to compromise. I was joking. With a capital J.”
I step back to gaze into his eyes. “How do you know what I was thinking about?”
He rolls his eyes. “You, my dear, live in here.” He pats his heart. “The good, the bad, and the . . . .”
“Don’t you dare say, ‘ugly!’”
He shrugs. “The point is, I can tell when you’re struggling. I’m here for you. Through everything.”
I can’t help it, I giggle.
Luckily for us, The Mangoes begin to croon Bob Marley’s ode to love.
Everyone on the beach, including me and Kes, sings along to One Love. The song you’ll hear all over the world, in airports, bars and restaurants, on beaches, in cities, and on ferries and trains, from Jamaica to Japan.
If a reggae song can bring together people from all over the globe, what else can do that?
I glance up at the handsome man next to me. My love. My annoying ride-or-die. Is there a secret I don’t know about that can glue us together?
As we lift our voices in song, the fishermen raise their lighters to the sky. I sway side to side, standing between Keston’s wide-legged stance.
With the stars aglow above me, a soft shifting carpet of sand beneath my feet, and Keston’s arms wound around my waist, I feel the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.
This must mean I belong here, right?