Stormy Paradise

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you could surf.”

She shrugs like this isn’t the biggest revelation. But it is. To me, Holly has always been sort of uptight, but it turns out she was a surfer chick in a past life.

“I guess it just never came up,” she says.

By this time we’ve walked about a mile down the beach. And when I look to my right, even though I’ve never been here, I recognize exactly where we are.

“Maybe you can teach me.”

“Like I said, I’m only here for a few days. And I’m not going to waste that time watching you flail about like a drunk seal.”

“You said if we had more time—”

“But we don’t,” she snaps. “I don’t think you get it. You still obviously don’t have a plan. Which means that as soon as this walk is over, we’re done. I wish to god that we could figure out a way for us to be together, but I just don’t see it. And the longer that we drag this on, the worse it’s going to be.”

She’s breathing hard at the exertion it took to get this all out. She must have been bottling it up all morning.

“But I do have one,” I say.

“One what?”

“A plan.”

“Really? And what is it?” she asks, her whole body exuding disbelief.

I point inland. “That.”

We turn towards an A-frame house with a huge open dining area facing the ocean. Its breezy architecture and surplus of windows makes it look like a wave frozen in time.

“What am I looking at?” Holly asks.

I start walking up the beach towards the house, but she’s frozen where the waves still lap at her ankles.

“That is my future plan.”

Chapter 11

Holly

The realtor finishes the tour with a final sales pitch.

“The owners live on the mainland. They’re looking to get rid of this place to fu

nd a new European lifestyle in their retirement. They’d prefer to move it fast.”

If seeing Jessie on what was supposed to be my solo Hawaiian holiday was shocking, this turn of events is enough to render me speechless. Which is exactly what I’ve been the past fifteen minutes as the realtor walked us through the three thousand square feet.

My lack of words might also have to do with the house itself, which is perfect in every single way, down to the backsplash in the kitchen and the reading nook on the second floor. I would change nothing if we moved in, which is a real possibility according to the way Jessie is talking.

“Hypothetically speaking,” he says, “if I didn’t need to worry about a bank putting up a mortgage, how fast is fast?”

The realtor leans forward at this. “You mean paying in cash?”

“Hypothetically speaking.”

“Of course,” the realtor says. “Well, in that case, you could have the house as soon as the paperwork is drawn up and signed, and the cash is in my client’s account. So, I would say 48 hours.”

He looks to me. “It’s her call at this point.”