Chapter 12
Later, after the food is put away and the children are asleep wrapped in towels and big tee shirts, families crank up their cars and head home.
The band plays on as fishermen dance with their girlfriends. Some people sit on the sand in groups chatting and laughing. Keston and I find a place on the outskirts of one group.
A bottle of dark rum is being passed around. Most pour a capful of rum into their cups of pineapple juice.
I decline and pass the bottle to Keston. I’ve had enough rum punches for the night.
“This could be a movie,” I yawn, leaning my head on his chest as we sit on the sand.
Someone has built a fire from coconut husks. It sends orange flames shooting into the sky.
Keston and I hold on tightly to each other.
“The only person who didn’t dance tonight is Tabitha,” I remark, oh so casually. “Although many asked her. She seemed to be staring at us.”
“I didn’t notice.”
How could he not notice her stalkerish vibe?
“What’s up with you and her?” I ask turning around to face him.
I can’t help myself. You can promise not to do something or say something all night long. Then wham. It slips out in a mush of anxiety vomit.
He ties a clean bandana around his curls.
Is he stalling?
He clears his throat.
He is.
Finally, he speaks, searching for words. Almost as if what he has to say is going to be painful. But to whom?
I brace myself.
“She came to the hospital every day when I was recovering from my leg surgeries. She was a real friend.”
“Every day?” That’s a surprise. I only came once. Then I left him.
He nods. “I told her about you. She knows how I feel. What Tabitha and I had was in the past.”
Yeah, but does Tabitha know that?
I’m dying to ask how far back in the past they dated, but I’m holding my tongue. He’ll tell me if it’s important. I must believe in our relationship for it to grow. Easier said than done.
Telling myself it’s normal for Keston to have an ex, and coming face to face with said ex who exudes a possessive vibe are two different things.
“She said you wouldn’t return to St. Nicholas,” he continues, his eyes far away like he’s still in that hospital bed.
“Really?”
His head drops. A rare thing for him. “I believed her.”
Raw pain muddles his voice. My heart clutches tightly into a ball. I shouldn’t have pushed him. What a monster I am. Forcing him to recall an extremely painful time of his life. When he almost lost his leg.
“I’m sorry.” I rub his arm. “We don’t have to talk about this.”
“It was so hard,” he whispers. “When you left.”
“I didn’t want to leave you. But you told me to go.” I stare at him, willing him to understand how hard it was for me too.
We never discussed the first and last time we saw each other after our rescue. But it’s part of our foundation. How long can we ignore it?
I remember the sharp pain I felt when he told me to leave St. Nicholas. That he could not give me what I needed. That rejection sits like a wolf at my door. Ready to blow all that we’re building apart.
I understand why he did it in theory, but the hurt I felt was larger than life itself. It sucked me into a depression.
“You went through a lot when we were stuck on No Man’s Land.” He shudders as if remembering the horrible parts. “I didn’t think you needed to go through more. Plus, let’s not forget your ex-boyfriend demanded that I never talk to you again.”
Right.Marcus and Tabitha would make a great pair.
He sighs. “The worst experience of my life was watching you walk out that door. Leg pain came and went. There were pills for that. My heart never stopped hurting.”
“Well, I’m here now.” I paste on my best optimistic smile. Which is a stretch for me. I’m a glass needs more kinda gal.
He kisses my lips and leans back. “That’s to seal our past with our future. You and me, baby. We are one love. Just like the legend sang.”
My hand caresses his handsome face. “Yes, one love forever.”
“I hope nothing comes between us.” I’m thinking of Tabitha. Of my life in New York. Of not fitting in here on St. Nicholas. All things that could potentially tear us apart.
“Nothing will come between us, CJ. I promise you that. Now kiss me, woman.”
After a deep kiss that shoots stars to the back of my eyeballs, Keston says, “Bet you didn’t know I was coming to get you. If you didn’t return here, I was coming to New York City. One way or another.”
He’d mentioned that before. His plan was to come north and kidnap me.
I grab his hands. “New York is the last place I’d expect to see you. You’d be like Crocodile Dundee up there. So out of place with your machete.”
“I love that movie. My mom had it on DVD and I watched it every day.”
“Well, I’m glad we didn’t have to act out that film.”
“I’m glad you’re right where you belong.” He squeezes me close. Rests his head on top of my hair. I feel his words more than I hear them.
“Every day I laid in that hospital bed, I thought about what you were doing. I wondered if you were thinking about me. Whether you missed our tiki hut and our waterfall. Most of all I hoped you were okay. Tabitha showed me social media posts about you and Marcus at events.”
Of course, she did.
“I hoped you were happy.”
Tears form in my eyes. This man touches the deepest parts of my soul with his heartfelt words.
“I missed you. I just didn’t see how we could have a future together,” I admit.
“And now?” He leans back to catch my chin with one hand. “What do you think now?”
I stifle the urge to barnacle my flighty self to his solid anchor.
“The jury is still out,” I say lightly.
Dark shadows cover the usual glee in his eyes.
“I understand that St. Nicholas can’t compare with New York. But I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy here,” he says. “You still have three weeks of your sabbatical from work. I hope to change your mind about going back. I don’t think I can survive you leaving me a second time.”
His words catch me off guard. We have not discussed what will happen when my leave from work is up. I took six weeks off and we’ve already used up three of them, mostly in his bed.
“I’m happy with you,” I speak truthfully.
“But . . . .”
“I feel like such an outsider. Everyone here is either related or going to be.”
He chuckles. “True.”
“Then there’s that awful donkey tramping through your yard who insists on stealing my clothes. Your fishermen friends make me the brunt of their jokes. And let’s not forget about Tabitha. She scares the hell out of me.”
He throws back his head and laughs. Which gives me immense relief.
All this talk about leaving each other is causing me anxiety.
“We’ll find a way for you to feel like one of us. No one can wave a magic wand and connect with everyone.”
“Except Bob Marley.”
“There’s only one legend,” he agrees.
“What do the St. Nicholas islanders love as much as they love reggae?”
Keston snorts. “The only thing we love as much as reggae is our rum.”
I laugh. “I’ll need to plan something that involves rum, then.”
His forehead puckers in deep concentration. “Carmela Jones, CJ, honeypot, all I ask is that you move in as soon as possible. I hate knowing you’re on this island and not in my bed.”
“Grumpy much?”
“No. Horny much is more like it.”
I snuggle up to him. “I knew you only wanted me for my body.”
“Damn right.”