Grant was still sleeping when I took my coffee to the lanai along with my book. Most of my time was spent looking for the next big seller, but I didn’t want any substance on this vacation. I had established a strict fluff only policy. The girl at the bookstore assured me that this was the best of the romances.
I sipped my coffee, watching the sun slowly work its way above the ocean. Fully caffeinated, I slathered myself with sunscreen and took myself to the beach. As part of the honeymoon package, we had our own small sliver of beach with two chairs and an umbrella. The icing on the cake would be room service, delivering mimosas to me all morning.
I approached the bar that was closest to my umbrella and chair, resolving to eat a mammoth breakfast and not drink on an empty stomach. I didn’t need another hangover.
“Can I order room service here?” I asked the bartender, a rather attractive redhead.
“Of course! What would you like?” she asked.
“Whatever your favorite breakfast is and a mimosa. A large mimosa.”
“Okay, ma’am. Last name?”
“McAllister. I’m in bungalow three,” I said and took my mimosa back to the chair and dove into the book. The girl at the bookstore didn’t let me down. The book was funny, charming, and the main character was drool worthy.
“Ms. McAllister, your smoothie bowl and malasada.”
A small tray was placed on the table beside me, along with another mimosa. The smoothie bowl was packed with bananas, strawberries, and acai berries. The malasada looked like a giant donut covered in sugar, which was definitely my type of breakfast.
“Oh, God that looks amazing.” Then again, as much as I was paying per night, someone should be here feeding it to me while massaging my feet.
The fruits were fresh and bursting with sweet and tangy flavors. “Oh, my God.” I licked the juice from my fingertips, not wanting to get the sweet stickiness on the pages of my book. The malasada was crisp on the outside and fluffy sweet on the inside, still warm from the oven. I couldn’t waste the sugar that coated my fingers, and I licked it off, washing it down with the second mimosa. This, I thought, is paradise, indeed.
“What in the name of God are you wearing?” Grant asked.
“Good morning to you, too,” I said. Well, it was paradise while it lasted.
“Is that… a muumuu?” He sat in the chair next to me with his coffee and a book of his own, staring at me through sunglasses that likely cost more than the stupid bungalow.
“It’s the only bathing suit cover-up that I could find last minute, all right? And I couldn’t find a one-piece that I liked. So, this is it.” I made a show of opening my book and starting a new chapter.
We read in amicable silence through another mimosa and his breakfast.
I’d really wanted to spend today alone, but as long as he wasn’t pestering me, I’d be fine.
“A Bloody Mary sounds delightful,” Grant finally broke the silence. “Would you like anything, Memaw? A prune juice, perhaps?”
In true form, he charmed and flirted with the bartender as she mixed the cold tomato juice with vodka. She added the celery stick with a wink.
“Jesus.” I marked my page with a bookmark and decided to take a walk along the beach in the opposite direction of Casanova and his target. Grant Johnson boyfriend experience, indeed. I secured my sun hat and strode out toward the ocean, headed nowhere in particular. Just away. I wondered where Tyler was and if he was participating in mandated family fun like we would be for the rest of the week, or if he was allowed to chill and do his own thing.
My family would be arriving en masse this evening, and I wanted to soak up as much alone time as possible today before the madness descended. Growing up in a family with four children, all girls, had its advantages, but it had its fair share of disadvantages as well. The never-ending search for silence being one of them. Likely, that was where my desire to live alone stemmed from. I’d grown up in the chaos of ballet recitals, piano lessons, science fairs, and sleepovers.
None of the pictures online had done Hawaii any justice. A camera was unable to catch the glory of the colors in the sky and sea. Blues I’d never seen. Greens blending through the ocean. Purples transitioning to pinks along the horizon. I picked a spot of sand and plopped myself down. The sea breeze brought a salty scent that I wanted to bottle and take home with me, opening it when apartment life in Brooklyn got stuffy. Which was always. I wondered what the cost of living was here. A girl could get used to this. Then again, I wouldn't have room service and a personal bar at my apartment. But I could definitely work from here. It’s more than you can afford, honey.
I held onto my sun hat and watched a surf instructor help a kid stand up on his board, knowing I wouldn’t last five seconds on that thing before getting a face full of salt water. Swimming was not one of the activities we frequented as kids, and I didn’t remember the last time I’d been in a pool. Drowning would be a guarantee.
I glanced back to see Grant walking my way, obviously finished with the bartender and his drink. I wondered if they went for a quickie in the backroom.
Because Hawaii was formed by volcanoes, there were tons of rock formations in the water, some protruding out of the ocean, some hidden. I sighed and stood, opting for one of the larger ones, hoping Grant would keep walking if I wasn’t sitting on the beach directly in his path. I’d taken the advice of the internet and purchased reef shoes for the occasion, not wanting to find sharp coral with the bottom of my sensitive feet. The thought alone turned my spine noodly, causing me to shiver. I lifted the hem of my cover-up as I waded through the calf-deep water toward the rocks, dropping it when it was no longer in danger of getting wet.
Once I reached the top, I noticed a rather large tide pool with tons of little fish swimming, and even a starfish. Finding a smooth rock, I sat to watch as the little fish darted back and forth. The longer I sat, the more marine life I noticed, and I made a mental note to ask about a nearby bookstore so I could purchase a book on tide pool marine life. New York may have The Met, but it didn’t have this raw beauty.
Maybe I’d get a fish tank. Although, I wasn’t sure where I’d put it in my closet of an apartment. I took off my reef shoes and dangled my painted toes in the water, giggling as a fish came closer to inspect the foreign purple objects.
“I really wish you wouldn’t parade around in something my great-aunt, Ida, would wear.” Grant occupied the smooth spot of rock nearest me.
“Well, you find me a cuter one or an acceptable one-piece and I won’t.” I wiggled my fingers in the water, scattering the fish. “Did you come out here to harangue me for my cover-up, or did you have something of substance to say?”
“That was hardly a haraguement. I just figured if we’re giving the illusion of a couple, we should, oh, I don’t know, be seen together.”
“Looked to me like you were playing couple with the bartender,” I said, leaning my head back to catch the sun and splashing my toes.
“Well, unless you wanted a $15 Bloody Mary on your tab, be grateful.”
“Fifteen bucks?” I’d had three mimosas… oh, well. Spilled milk and all that.
“Do you want to go for a swim?”
“No,” I lied.
“They have kayaks to rent.”
“I’d wind up overturning myself and you’d just let me drown.” I’d so been enjoying my alone time.
“While that does sound appealing, if you’re dead, I can’t use your credit card for Bloody Marys and unlimited buffets.” He picked up a loose stone, tossing it into the waves.
“Can we just sit around and do nothing before my parents get here?” Preferably alone.
“Not looking forward to it?” he asked, throwing another rock.
“You haven’t met my mother. Nothing I ever do is right. I should be more like Rebecca. Marrying a doctor. I should be more like Maisy, who keeps her opinions to herself and doesn’t make waves. I should be more like Vivian who is on her way to a doctorate in biomedical scie
nce. I shouldn’t wear flats. I should exercise more.”
“You’re one of the most talented agents I know. You’re good at what you do. Can she not see that?”
“Mom has a very...limited idea of success. It’s definitely not being thirty, chubby, and single in New York.” I wedged my wet feet back in my shoes, wanting to be away from this conversation. Or at the very least not having it with Grant. There was a lot to unpack regarding my relationship with my Mom. Stuff that years of therapy and a decade of wine hadn’t been able to fix. I doubted anything would come from a morning of mulling it over with someone I hardly knew and could barely stand.
I started the descent from where we’d been sitting.
“Shit!” My foot slipped and I fell, tumbling into the waves. A searing pain went through my ankle and I instinctively grabbed it, causing more pain. Oh, God. I had been right about the cover-up, unfortunately for me. I was tangled in the mass of fabric, and it was heavy.
I couldn’t right myself as the waves kept tossing me, and I found that I was genuinely worried that I wouldn’t surface before my lungs filled with seaweed and saltwater. Christ. My ankle was on fire.
I broke the surface, gasping as Grant pulled me up.
“My ankle,” I croaked, spitting out salt water. I didn’t figure it was easy for Grant to pull my weight in the water, so I tried as much as I could to use my other leg to push me forward.
Once on the sand, I assessed the damage. My right leg had a gash in it above my ankle bone. It looked deep and God, it ached like nothing I’d ever felt. Shit.
“We need to get you to the ER.”
“Are we calling a cab?” Every step was torture, causing me to cry out. I was doing a good job of holding back the tears, but I didn’t know for how much longer. I was drenched, so even if I did, he wouldn’t notice.
“No, I’m calling Tyler. He took the last rental car.”
We were leaving a trail of blood behind, and I started feeling woozy. I couldn’t hold my weight up any longer and dropped to the sand, just in time to see two lifeguards and Tyler running up with a board to carry me.
“What happened,” Tyler asked, helping Grant load me onto the board.
I didn’t have time to protest being picked up before I was being carried past resort guests, all staring open-mouthed. I pulled my hat over my eyes, hiding them from sight. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me.
Car doors opened and closed, and I felt the board being slid into the back of a van. The hotel has its own ambulance. Small miracles, I supposed. It would be hard to explain such a large amount of blood to the car rental place.
With the amount of blood I’d trailed over the resort’s beach, I didn’t have to wait to be seen, and was getting stitches in no time.
I still had my hat over my eyes, not wanting to see the extent of the damage, and certainly not wanting to watch them sew up my ankle. At least they gave me local anesthesia so I couldn’t feel anything besides a faint tugging that I could have done without.
“You’re lucky it didn’t damage any tendons or anything too terribly bad,” the doctor said as she pulled a stitch tight. The sensation made my stomach flop.
“I’m lucky that Grant was there to pull my ass out of the water before I drowned.” I may not like him, but I’d likely be dead if it wasn’t for him.
“Those waves can be brutal,” she agreed. “All done. I’ll get your discharge papers started.”
“Thank you,” I said under the brim of my hat.
“You probably bled so much because of those mimosas,” Grant said. He’d ridden with me in the ambulance, leaving Tyler behind at the resort.
“All right, Ms. McAllister, let’s get that ankle wrapped so you can get back to your vacation.” The nurse who had checked me in came back to finish getting me ready to leave. “I’ve got a set of those waterproof skin bandages so you can still swim. Just not near the rocks, please,” she warned.
“You got it.” I’d definitely steer clear of those. Maybe I’d just stick to the resort pools and spas until it was time to go home.
“I think Dr. Kahale wants you to take a round of antibiotics just to make sure nothing nasty stuck around after the cleaning. Just a precaution, of course.”
Antibiotics? Shit. The last time I was on a round of antibiotics I wound up with that yeast infection. A Hawaiian vacation was the last place I wanted to deal with that.
“Uh. What if the antibiotics...you know.” I was hoping the message was being received, woman to woman.
“Don’t worry. It’s a low dose; you shouldn’t have any issues. But I can have her send a prescription for that too, just in case.”
“That would be great!”
The hotel wasn’t too far away, so once I’d been bandaged and discharged, Grant called a cab, saying there was no need to drag Tyler out to the ER.
“Is that really what causes yeast infections?” Grant asked out of the blue.
On a list of things that I wanted to discuss with Grant, my mother and yeast infections were ranked quite low, somewhere with periods, bowel movements, and baseball.
“It’s one of them,” I said, hoping that ended the conversation.
“So when you get sick or something—”
“Can we literally talk about anything else? Because if we keep up with the current conversation, I’m going to heave myself out of this moving cab.”
The rest of the short cab ride back was silent, thankfully. I’d been given crutches to help get around, which I’d never used before. It took some getting used to, but when Grant lowered them to my height, they weren’t so bad. Dr. Kahale said I’d only need to use them for a couple of days at the most. So at least I wouldn’t be hobbling down the aisle on crutches. My mother would be thrilled with that.
The rest of the day was spent exactly as I wanted—sitting on my ass reading and sipping mimosas. Room service was a godsend; I didn’t have to get up for anything.
9
Grant and I had gotten to dinner before my parents arrived and were able to stash my crutches out of sight. We’d snagged a table near an exit, so all I had to do was manage the few steps to the door and I’d be able to retrieve my crutches and Mom would be none the wiser.
I swirled the ice in my whiskey and coke, staring at the origami swan napkin, waiting for hell to arrive.
Sure enough, I could hear Mom’s complaining from a mile away, and from what I could gather, my little sister, Vivian, was on the receiving end of it.
“Here we go.” I downed the last of the whiskey and planted it on a tray that was passing by. No need for her to add excessive drinking to my list of failures.
Dad was the first one I saw, and I was genuinely glad to see him. Poor Vivian entered, clutching her purse like it was a life preserver and she was on the Titanic. She sat, staring wide-eyed down at the table. I managed to get her attention and gave her a questioning look. She shook her head. There was absolutely no telling what Mom had said.
“There’s my girl!” Dad said, pulling me into a bear hug, almost knocking me off balance. Thankfully, Grant’s arm around my waist steadied me when Dad let go. “I just bought Angela Norwood’s newest book for the trip. Is it a thrill ride?”
“You won’t know what hit you.” I grinned. “Dad, this is Grant.” I turned so the two could shake hands.
“Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. McAllister. Sophie’s told me a lot about you.”
“Please, call me Bruce.”
“Okay, my turn! My turn!” Mom shoved Dad out of the way.
“Mrs. McAllister.” Grant extended his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you. Sophie, what on earth are you wearing?” Mom took a step back, examining the floral sundress I had bought earlier. Namely because it was long enough to cover the bandage on my ankle. “Oh, that shape is doing nothing for your figure. The skirt only adds to your hips, dear.”
The fullness of the skirt had been one of the selling points for me. It wasn’t constricting and I loved the way
it swayed and flowed. It matched my favorite sandals, which I took as a sign from above. Clearly, I’d been mistaken.
I returned to my seat to ease the throbbing in my ankle, and Grant followed suit.
“You met Mom and Dad. That’s my sister, Maisy, and her asshole boyfriend, Derrick.” I gestured to them across the table.
“Sophie Lynn!” Mom admonished.
“Oh, we’re going to pretend like he’s not an asshole? All right, then.”
“And you’re so perfect?” Derrick shot back. Poor Maisy looked like she’d eaten a bug.
“Obviously,” I scoffed. Perhaps I was taking out my anger toward my mother on everyone else, but at that point, I didn’t really care. Derrick was an asshole.
“Rebecca and her fiancé, Jordan, the stars of the show. Rebecca’s childhood friend, Oliver, and my little sister, Vivian, who is currently working on her doctorate and is studying the use of vaccines in India.”
“Well, that’s impressive,” Grant said.
“And I’m afraid I don’t know who you are,” I spoke to the only person I didn’t know. A gentleman who was sitting next to Jordan.
“I’m Miles. Jordan’s brother.” His dazzling smile stood in contrast to his chestnut skin.
“Nice to meet you.” I returned his smile, noticing him cut his eyes to Vivian. “Everyone, this is Grant.”
They all muttered their hellos and greetings as our waitress approached. Poor Vivian continued to clutch her purse, staring at her empty plate like a portal to another dimension would open and swallow us. Perhaps she and I shared the same wish.
“Aloha! What can I get started for everyone to drink?”
“Bring me something fruity with a little umbrella in it,” Dad said exuberantly, looking over the menu. “I’m not picky.”
“I’d like a martini. Dry. Onions, not olives. No more than two onions, though. Any more and it might as well be a beef stew,” Mom ordered.
Faking Paradise Page 6
