Once Upon an Island

8

“She’s going to marry Percy,”Kate says.

I quickly glance at Arya. “He asked you?”

Wow. Arya works fast. Her face infuses with a dark blush and she looks down at the breakfast table. She traces a shape on the wood. I narrow my eyes. The shape is a heart.

“Holy mackerel, are you serious?” I’m so surprised it comes out almost as a shout.

Arya shakes her head. “He didn’t say anything of the sort.”

“Yet,” Kate says. “He didn’t say anything yet. You weren’t here. All last night they cuddled in front of the fireplace, drinking wine and sharing stories about—”

“Birds,” says Arya. “We talked about birds.”

Her blush deepens.

“I’m no dodo,” Kate says.

I groan at her bad bird pun, but she continues, undeterred.

“Percy said you can come and catalogue birds at his estate anytime. He was practically begging you to take over as mistress of his household.”

I scoff and lean back in the wooden chair. It creaks as I settle back. We’re at the little breakfast table in the small kitchen. There are tropical print placemats and salt and pepper shakers shaped like fish. The table is next to a window that overlooks the cove. The sky is still pale morning blue.

As soon as I came inside I took a quick shower and then started the coffee maker. The strong aroma of the coffee beans, Jamaican Blue Mountain, filled the cottage and drew Arya and Kate out to the kitchen.

“He was not,” Arya says. “He was merely expressing his enthusiasm for a shared interest.”

I glance at Kate and she grins at me and winks.

It’s pretty clear, Arya is sinking hard and fast.

“You really like him, don’t you?” I ask.

Arya looks around the kitchen nervously. I know it goes against her nature to fall for someone so fast. She’s careful, she’s cautious, she collects data and then decides.

“I…I…” She frowns down at the table, then looks up. “I do.”

Kate squeals and claps her hands. She’s in a burgundy-colored silk negligée.

“I told you. I told you! What did I tell you?”

I smile and acknowledge her brilliance. Arya buries her face in her hands in embarrassment.

I take the opportunity to reach forward and take a long gulp of my warm coffee.

Arya and Kate are still in their pajamas, Kate in her negligée and Arya in polka dot shorts and tank, but I’m dressed in a bright yellow sundress. I may be exhausted, my muscles may be stiff, and my eyes may feel like they’re being scraped by sandpaper, but I have coffee and a cute outfit.

And apparently, taking Declan to the island and spending the night in a downpour wasn’t in vain.

Life is good.

I grab a banana from the fruit bowl in the center of the table and start to peel it.

“What’s on for today?” I ask.

I take a big bite of the banana and chew. It’s slightly overripe, and very sweet.

Kate narrows her eyes on the banana and then on me.

“By the way, when did you get in?”

I swallow and the banana catches a bit on the way down. I cough and hit my chest.

Arya stops tracing hearts on the tabletop and looks at me too.

“Thirty minutes ago,” I say casually. For some reason my heart speeds up.

What in the world. Why the heck is my heart beating so hard?

I frown.

“Oh no! I had no idea you were out there all night. Was it horrible?” asks Arya. “Percy said you had shelter. I didn’t…” She trails off. “You got rid of Declan for me. It’s all my fault you spent the night with a man you don’t like, in the rain, without a bed…” She looks as guilty as a puppy that just chewed up your favorite shoe.

I laugh and shake my head. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t completely horrible.”

I take another bite of my banana, a hard chomp, and think about how unhorrible it was.

“Tell us about it,” Kate demands. “I’ll make a veggie frittata.”

She gets up and starts digging around in the refrigerator. I think about the night, about lying on Declan’s chest, his warmth, how we talked, how he maybe isn’t as awful as I thought, about how it felt when we went back to formalities, how it felt when he walked away…

I don’t want to share any of that.

So, instead I say, “It was uneventful. We got to the island. The downpour started within a few minutes. It was too loud to talk much.” I shrug. “We spent most of the night huddled under the gazebo. I fell asleep pretty quickly. Then when the rain stopped we paddled home. Like I said, it wasn’t completely terrible.”

I take another bite of my banana to keep from saying anything more. I don’t really want to talk about my confusion surrounding Declan, or about how I spent an entire night sprawled on his chest.

“Don’t worry, La-La. Your good deed means you’ll be a bridesmaid at Arya’s wedding,” says Kate. She cracks some eggs with a flourish and begins to whisk them together.

I look at Arya, “I would’ve been one anyway, right?”

Arya nods and gives me a sly wink.

“I have to put in a few hours at the preserve this morning,” she says. The plane takes off this afternoon.

“Is Percy coming?” Kate asks.

Arya nods, so in response Kate starts humming the bridal march. Arya smiles, but she picks a grape out of the fruit bowl and throws it at Kate.

“Ungrateful wretch!” Kate says.

I laugh happily. Arya has an expectant glow that I haven’t seen in years. The smell of sautéing vegetables and coffee fills the air, and outside the window the morning sun sparkles on the sea.

Kate starts up a discussion about her plans for piquing Declan’s interest. Apparently she’s going to spend the morning on a helicopter tour of Rosa with him. Then, this evening, back on Mariposa, there’s a charity gala on the beach with music and dancing.

“And Percy will be there too,” Kate says. “And I have tickets. Aren’t you going, La-La, for the paper?”

“Ummm…” I think through my work schedule. That’s right, my editor asked me to cover the gala for the society section. “Yeah. I’m going.”

“That’s perfect,” Kate says. She slides the finished frittata onto the table. “You can be our moral support. I can feel it. Tonight Arya will get a declaration from Percy, and I’ll capture Declan’s regard.”

I give both her and Arya a tight smile.

Steam rises from the cast-iron pan as Kate slices a knife into the dish.

Suddenly I don’t feel all that well. My stomach is doing a little protest dance, sort of how it feels when an airplane takes off and I’m holding tight to the armrests.

“Are you alright?” Arya asks. “Your face went pale.”

Kate pushes a plate full of asparagus and parmesan frittata at me. “Eat,” she says. “You must be exhausted and hungry.”

I nod and pick up a fork. “Right.”