Chapter 19
The tour guide for this outing was very different from the funny woman who had led the dolphin spotting the previous day.
The way this woman delivered information about the island and the places they visited made Sylvie want to take notes.
Of course, she didn’t have a notepad, and she couldn’t be typing away on her phone without it looking like she was texting.
It was the last stop of the tour, and she was eager to get a chance to ask some follow-up questions, just so she could at least feel like she’d learned something during the four hours they had been walking around town.
“How are you going with that?” Luke asked, breaking her train of thought.
Looking from the small pastry to Luke and back again, Sylvie made a confused face and hummed in question, hoping he would elaborate.
“You’re looking at it like it’s been bullying you,” he said with a smile.
“Oh, no, I was just thinking about something.” She shook her head and took a bite of the small pineapple tartlet. The burst of flavor was surprisingly intense, and she closed her eyes to savor it. “Oh, wow. That is phenomenal.”
It was remarkable how it managed to be sweet and sour at the same time. The pastry, too, was tasty and light enough to add flavor and texture without being soggy in the slightest.
“Wow,” she repeated. “Sorry, I just can’t get over the flavor.”
The tour guide stepped up to them. “If you would like to learn, the chef here has a masterclass. You can buy a ticket through me.”
Sylvie’s eyes lit up. “Yes! When is it?”
“Next one? Saturday. Shall I book you both?”
Her heart sank. She sighed and shook her head. “No, that’s all right. That’s the day after I leave. But maybe you want to?”
She turned to Luke, who also shook his head. “The chef would prefer I don’t attend. My cooking skills would offend, and I might accidentally set fire to something.”
Without missing a beat, the guide shifted tactics. “Well then, perhaps you prefer the recipe book we’ve created just for this tour. Each vendor has provided a few recipes, and Martin was bullied long and hard to include the pineapple tart.”
Sylvie knew she was being upsold, but was it really upselling if she wanted the book? Either way, she didn’t care. “Oh, that would be amazing. Are the accras from the first stop in there, too? I think, other than this, those were my favorite.”
With a curt nod, the guide slid her hand into her tote and produced what was clearly a home-printed booklet held together with a plastic binding spine. “Cash or card?”
“Card,” Luke said, reaching for his wallet.
“That’s all right, I can—”
“No, let me.” He waved her off. “You wanted to do the cooking class, and my ability to burn a boiled egg nixed that, so you can at least let me facilitate you cooking something in the future.” The small smile he flashed her, combined with his self-deprecating tone, melted what little resolve she had.
“Okay, fine,” she said. “But you really didn’t need to. It’s very kind of you, so thank you.”
Once he had paid, the guide pocketed the card reader and clicked her tongue. “American men get away with doing the bare minimum. If my man did not pay for a gift as small as this on a date, he would not remain my man.”
Immediately blushing, Sylvie and Luke looked at each other in surprise.
“Oh, no! Not a date!” she exclaimed. “Not at all.”
“We aren’t—um, like that,” Luke said. “A long time ago, but not now. Now, we’re friends. Old friends.”
The guide looked from one blushing face to the other, raising a single eyebrow.
“Right, sure. Well, either way, you enjoy that cookbook. And thank you for coming. Please feel free to order something and stay a while. The ten percent group discount applies until midnight,” she added before smiling and turning to another tourist.
Luke stuffed his hands into his pockets awkwardly. “Did you want to get dinner here? Or, more like a light supper, I guess. With all the food we’ve already had, I can’t imagine eating a full meal.”
“Me neither,” Sylvie replied, looking away and trying to will her face to return to a normal color. “They have a small sharing menu.”
She signaled to a small table near the bar and moved toward it as soon as Luke nodded. On the way, she grabbed two paper menus stacked near the bar and handed one to him while taking her seat, lifting her own menu like a shield to hide her still-pink cheeks.
“We could do the mini boudin créole?” she suggested. “And I’d love more of the lambis.” Peeking over the top of the menu, she saw Luke frown slightly and had to fight a giggle.
“Those were the snails, right?” he asked, hesitating.
“Uh-huh,” Sylvie replied, waiting for him to wriggle out of it.
“Well, if you want it, then order it. But in that case, I’ll get a plate of that curry you didn’t love, and you can just have the snails all to yourself.”
Only slightly annoyed that his reaction hadn’t been funnier, Sylvie agreed and turned her attention to the dessert selection, already planning to order a full portion of the pineapple tart for herself.
“You’re leaving the day after tomorrow?” Luke asked, sounding almost like he didn’t believe it.
“Yeah,” she said. “Feels way too soon, if you ask me.”
“It does,” he replied, smiling at her across the table.
Keeping her breathing steady, Sylvie ignored the fluttering of her heart at his smile. The past few days had seemed like a dream. Everything she loved about Luke as a teenager was still there, and they got along just as well as they always had. It almost felt like old times.
“When’s the wedding?” she asked, not wanting to be caught reminiscing.
“The wedding?” he repeated, sounding alarmed. “What do you mean?”
“Just, you know, you got here—what, three days ago? Have your friends managed to evade further transportation disasters?”
She looked up and saw a waiter watching them. Smiling, she waved at the menu to show they were ready to order. After they listed their dishes and ordered a large jug of Ti’ Punch to share, the waiter left them alone again.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. “Or has it turned into an actual disaster?”
Luke let out a small laugh and shook his head. “Kind of. The wedding is set for Saturday…in theory, I guess.”
Her jaw dropped. “In theory? Generally, you have to be pretty sure of the date before flying a bunch of people out to the Caribbean. Is it because of all the travel mishaps?”
Luke hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, it kind of messed up everything. I mean, I’m the only one here! The earliest anyone else can arrive is the day after tomorrow, and there’s so much that still needs to happen.”
Sylvie suddenly felt guilty for having joked about the situation. She couldn’t imagine the stress the bride and groom must be feeling. In all her years of planning events, she had seen many last-minute disasters, but none as severe as this.
“Well, I’m sure it’ll get sorted out,” she said. “Though I’m sorry it’s all gone a bit belly-up.”
“I’m not,” Luke said, then immediately looked sheepish. “I mean, I am. But if everything had gone to plan, there’s no way we’d have gotten to hang out like this, and this has been really, really great.”
Unable to hide her smile, Sylvie laughed. “Well, when you put it like that…”
He joined her just as the waiter returned, pouring each of them a glass of the strong rum cocktail and topping the drinks with wedges of fresh lime. But Luke seemed a little distant, and she hoped it wasn’t anything she had said. It couldn’t just be that she was leaving soon, right?
It wasn’t like Friday was goodbye for good. Now that they’d reconnected, they could keep in touch once they were both back in the States. The only reason they hadn’t before was because they were teenagers who had just broken up. But now, there was nothing stopping them from being friends.
Long-distance friends, she reminded herself. Several thousand miles and multiple states apart. But hey, that’s what phones were for—as her mom would’ve said. A pang of grief tightened her chest.
Clearing her throat, she caught Luke’s eye and smiled. No way would she let the night turn sour over goodbyes she couldn’t control.
“To the unexpected!” she said, raising her glass.
Luke’s slow smile warmed her as he raised his in return. “To the unexpected.”