Harley pivots, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “Never mind. Forget I asked. Clearly you don’t trust me to—”
“It’s my birthday,” Melissa says softly.
“What?” Harley yelps, turning back toward her, leaning in closer.
“It’s my birthday,” Melissa says again in a regular voice.
“Wait—sorry. One more time?” Harley puts her hands on her hips.
Melissa grins, yelling, “It’s my birthday!!”
Orange Shorts and his friends clap, causing a true blush to seep over Melissa’s face.
Harley looks smug and pats Melissa on the head. “Well, why didn’t you say something sooner?” She thinks for a second as Melissa glances at Orange Shorts, regrets doing so, and prepares to bolt. “I’ll pick you up at the restaurant at six sharp. That should give us time to run back to Pulse and change.”
Melissa backs away. “Okay—but why?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Just enjoy the next few birthday hours. Maybe Matty Chase’ll give you a free dessert or something in honor of your special day.”
“Maybe he’ll offer me top pick of any job at any of his restaurants worldwide.”
“Maybe you’re dreaming!” Harley yells.
Melissa nods at her, glad to have her secret off her chest even if it didn’t exactly result in a parade or balloons being magically delivered in her honor.
“I’ll see you later, Harley.” Melissa waves, trying still to ignore Orange Shorts. Maybe I won’t like him or recognize him if he wears something else. Silently, she wills him to change into acid-wash jeans or a polyester leisure suit—anything to make her not focus on him.
“And, Mel? Try not to reek of onions when I get you, okay?”
Melissa, far away enough from Orange Shorts and the slight embarrassment of being on public birthday display to feel her pulse slow, cups her hands in front of her like a megaphone. “No onions for me, no daiquiris for you, and maybe a piece of cake for both of us?”
Harley nods. “You bet. Cake on me.”
15
“I’M SORRY,” DOVE SAYS, her voice soft not because she wants to appear cowardly but because she’s embarrassed.
“Well, sorry’s not going to cut it,” Gus says. “Did you see their faces? You dropped the entire tray of appetizers. Not one, not two, but the whole thing.”
Dove snaps. “No kidding. I was there. I was the one who spent my entire day prepping the food, remember?” Dove flashes back to rolling out the pastry dough so it was thin enough to see through, then spreading layers of Camembert cheese and roasted island vegetables inside. “Labor-intensive work with no payoff. Not exactly what I signed up for.” She sighs.
Gus stares at her. “Well, the owner’s not happy. I can tell you that. They’ve gone out to dinner now, but you should know you’re on probation.”
Shock rattles through Dove’s body. “Probation? I’m in culinary jail?”
“Not jail, just—”
“Just nothing. God, all I did was spill a tray. It’s no catastrophe.” Dove finishes putting away the utensils in their small drawer and then latches the cooler closed for the evening.
“Look, I told you right off—there’s no room for mistakes.” Gus’s voice softens. “You won’t be fired. Not yet, anyway. Just show her tomorrow at breakfast. Wow her with your abilities and it’ll all be fine.”
Dove purses her lips and looks down at the galley floor. “I have to mop.” Then I have to mope, she thinks. Remind me again how I got into this mess? She puts on her best fake upbeat voice. “But I’ll make sure to whip up a wonderful breakfast.”
Gus grins, oblivious to her sarcasm. “Great.”
At the dockside rotunda Harley sits in her shorts and tank top, her bare feet resting on the rungs of the stool, with a box of Mylar balloons to her left and a tank of helium to her right. On autopilot, she takes balloon after balloon and fills it, ties it closed, then secures a matching red, yellow, or green ribbon to its bottom.
This is just what Melissa needs, she thinks, looking at the bunches of floating balloons. She’s so ready for a pick-me-up. It’s hard to be the one left out—with Dove and William and me and Bug, maybe Melissa feels like the perpetual third wheel. But I’ll make it better for her. Harley smiles to herself, feeling content amid the shining foil, the calm ocean breezes, and the feelings of love she has brewing inside. Bug. Who’d have thought I’d come to some random island and find Mr. Right? The world always turns out in different ways than you think it will, and tonight will be no exception. Parties always have the potential to throw a few surprises—that’s what makes them fun. Melissa could meet the guy of her dreams tonight. Or just have a fun time and forget her job stressors.
Harley pictures dancing with Bug, his blond-tipped hair brushing gently against her face, his arms encircling her. What had he said to her this afternoon when he stopped by, surprising her with the jewelry she’d lost on the beach with Melissa? “When it’s right, it’s right and you know it with every part of your body and brain,” he’d whispered into her ear. That’s what keeps echoing in Harley’s mind as she finishes inflating the last of the balloons and checks her watch.
The preparations are set, the tent, the music, food being catered by the Seafood Shanty down the beach, her outfit coming courtesy of a tiny false charge at Pulse. Dove won’t mind, Harley thinks when she slips into her muted orange flowy dress. Besides, Melissa charged her stuff, and I did mine with my staff discount. Harley takes one last look at the setup, securing the balloons to each pole of the rotunda tent. The party will be a vision of red, green, and yellow. Time to head out to pick up the birthday girl.
“The only good thing about not having my clothing back from the land of lost luggage is that I don’t have to spend time wondering what to wear,” Melissa says as she shimmies into her one dress and attempts to zip it up herself. The mirror in the guest room at Max’s house stretches out wall-length.
“Hey, Birthday Girl,” Max says, his words following a swift knock on the door.
“Who told you?” Melissa inquires, fixing a twisted shoulder strap and wishing she’d had the guts to charge a pair of shoes. Looks like it’s flip-flops yet again. She slips into them, wondering if her luggage will ever arrive. “By the time my bags get to this island, it’ll be time to …” Her voice trails off. Time to what, exactly? Not like I have some grand plan beyond living in the moment.
Max watches Melissa study her reflection. “Let’s just say word spreads quickly. And Harley has a rather big mouth.”
“Yeah, but it’s always blabbing about fun stuff.”
Max nods. In his white shirt and baggy khaki trousers he is every inch the classic good-looking brooder. “So, it’s okay if I tag along tonight?”
“Sure,” Melissa says, then reiterates, “It’s not like I planned this. Any of this …” She knows she’s referring to more than just the party tonight. “You know, all along I kept thinking I had it all sorted out—work at the chalets, have fun, and the rest would just come to me.”
Max hoists himself up on the wide window ledge, one leg swung out onto the balcony, the other safely inside. “And that’s not the case?”
Melissa shrugs. “Well, obviously, I swerved off whatever path I was on. No more chalet.”
“But you like your new job, right?”
“I do.” She furrows her brow. “A lot, actually. Despite the fact that they sent me home early today for no good reason.”
“Maybe Matty Chase got wind of your impending celebration,” Max suggests with a laugh.
“Doubtful. He’s more inclined to keep people at work for the entire duration of their birthdays, isn’t he? At least that’s what I hear.”
Max gives her a goofy look. “Oh, but he has a soft spot for sweet Melissa Forsythe.”
Melissa gives her best ingenue face. “Yes, folks, that’s right, I am the teacher’s pet.” She flashes back to school, to being in class, and then to finishi
ng school and starting the next phase of life. “Yeah, I really like my job, but …” Tugging at her curls, Melissa tests out how she would look with straight hair, pulling it taut. As soon as she releases the hair it springs back into tight coils. She shakes her head.
“What comes next? Ah, isn’t that the big question?” Max glances out toward the water. The sun has begun its descent, sending rays of various shades of yellow and pink onto the ocean’s surface.
“You have it all figured out, don’t you, Max?”
Max stands up. “Oh, sure. Go back to Oxford, study for a few more years, finish with high honors, write the next brilliant novel, get wildly famous and become …” He shakes his head, causing his dark hair to flop into his green eyes.
Melissa sidles up next to him. The festive mood of the evening begins to swirl around her, making her wonder what might happen. Maybe I’ll see Orange Shorts, maybe I’ll find my luggage, maybe I’ll just end up having a decent birthday rather than keeping it tucked way inside. “Maybe that’s my problem!” she says aloud. “Just like I kept this day—this one day a year you’re supposed to celebrate yourself—a secret…. Maybe you’re supposed to just say it.”
“Huh?” Max looks at her like she’s lost it.
Melissa pokes Max’s chest. “You. You want to write a novel, correct? And let me guess what it’ll be about. Some unrequited love story—a bookish, brooding boy loves this girl. And despite numerous attempts to convince her, he never does that one big grand gesture that really tells her how he feels. The end.”
Max coughs and sighs at the same time. “So you’re saying I should tell her yet again?”
Melissa stares at her flip-flops. “As many times as I’ve worn these things is how many times you have to repeat it to Dove. Yes, Max, tell Dove how you feel. Not with a question of should you stay or go, not with any kind of question at all.”
“A definitive declaration?” Max ambles to the doorway, gesturing with his hand for Melissa to lead the way down the grand staircase toward the car.
“Yes. You tell her how you feel and I …”
“You’ll?” Max holds the heavy double wooden door open for Melissa and she steps out into the breezy evening. Wind sweeps up through the palm fronds, sending a ruffling noise down toward her. She shivers.
“I’ll … I don’t know,” she says. “But I’m determined to find out.”
In a space that resembles a cave more than a bed, Dove tries to get comfortable. Propped up behind her is the one thin pillow she’s been given on board the yacht. To bolster it, she rolls up a sweatshirt, a towel, and a pair of pants, but still manages to sink back.
“Ahhh,” she groans aloud, annoyed that she can’t be above in the sitting areas because the owner is there and she can’t be in the galley lest she be ordered to make more food even though she’s technically off duty. “I can’t go anywhere.”
Footsteps on the ladder that leads down into the crew’s quarters produce a smiling William. “Why go anywhere when you can have there brought to you?”
Dove puts her textbook down and sits up fast, clunking her head on the low ceiling of the bunk above her. “Ow.”
“Good to see you, too.” William presents her with a kiss on the cheek and crouches down so he can sit near her on the edge of the bunk.
“Slide in,” Dove suggests, patting the space next to her.
William obliges, stretching his lanky frame out over the length of the bunk. He grimaces and turns on his side. “What is this? It’s digging into me.”
“A book.”
William gives her a look. “Um, yeah, I can see that. I can feel it, too.”
Dove takes the heavy text from his hands and shelves it with her rolled-up socks in a small space at the foot of the bunk. “Just pleasure reading.”
“Looks more like schoolwork.”
Dove shrugs. “I guess it could be. For some. Sorry it came between us …” she jokes and lies down so the left side of her body overlaps his.
“Yup, that’s right. Academics gets between us every time.” He means it as a joke, but it comes out heavier than intended.
Dove worries he means something by it and tries to smooth over the awkwardness with kisses. A tiny part of her knows she and William really are very different—she’d gone to the best schools and he hadn’t—but more than this, he didn’t seem to care about the future. And do I? Sure, it’s possible to be with someone whose past isn’t like yours, but what if your futures don’t match up either?
Dove bites her lip, frowning, and then tries to shake off the whole ordeal with more kisses. She kisses his arms, then his shoulder, then his neck, then his chin. As she kisses his face, her necklace bumps into his cheek.
“Wait—this thing is …” William tugs on her necklace. “Can’t you take it off?”
“You have me alone in the crew’s quarters and you want to remove my … necklace?” Dove laughs. She touches the silver chain and shakes her head. “I don’t want to.”
William looks annoyed and then softens. “You like it that much? It’s just a—”
“It’s just a meaningful gift, is what it is.” Dove lies flat on her back next to William and takes his hand in hers. “I’m glad you came by. I was beginning to loathe this evening.” Dove thinks about her run-in with Gus, how she’ll have to wow everyone at breakfast, how when she thought about being on the island with William, it wasn’t like this. He squeezes her hand. Well, maybe it was like this part …
“Hey.” William puts his hand on his head, propping himself up so he can look down at Dove. “You up for coming out tonight?”
Dove’s spirits flag. “Tonight? Didn’t I just say I was tired?”
“No, you said you were starting to loathe this night. Different story.”
“Well, I amend my previous comment. I had a long day; I’m all set for an even longer morning, and—no. I don’t really want to go out.” She stares at him, flashing her sweet smile, batting her eyes and pulling him down for a kiss.
William puts his lips on hers, their mouths meeting with an intense kiss that goes on and on until Dove is breathless.
“Whoa.” William pauses.
Dove looks deep into his eyes, searching for signs he feels as she does, wrapped up in the moment and keen to keep the kiss and anything else that follows going. “Here,” she says and tugs at his shirt.
William grins but then pulls back. “Hey—let’s go out. It’ll be fun.”
Dove feels the pit in her stomach that started as passion widen to disappointment. “You’re saying you want to leave our cozy little world and go up there?” She points up the ladder to whatever is waiting in the world above.
William scratches his head, avoiding eye contact. “I just think it’s good for us to be social, you know?”
Dove nods, trying to agree with him, but finding that she still wants to stay. “You go. I’ve got reading to do.” He starts to object. “Really, it’s fine. We’ll meet up tomorrow. Wait. Not tomorrow. I’ve got a crazy day. The next day.”
William shakes his head. “We’ve been chartered for a day trip to the casinos.”
Dove frowns. “The weekend?”
William nods, considering the options, heavy into his thoughts. “I guess …”
Dove tries to rally, to perk things up. “I know it’s not what we pictured, all this work coming between us.
William points to her reading material. “And textbooks …” He smiles.
“But …” She thinks about how William always likes a good party, a reason for being festive. Not that she doesn’t, but she’s more inclined for a quiet night where he’s more into a limbo on the beach or a grand soiree. “An old friend, Emmy Taylor—she’s having some giant bash at the—”
“Botanical Gardens?” William’s eyes light up. “I totally want to go to that. Sounds like the event of the season. I didn’t know you know her.”
Dove wrinkles her forehead. “Do you?”
William shrugs. “Only in the way tha
t most people cross paths at some point or another here. But yeah, cool, I’m game for that.” He leans in and hugs Dove.
“So I’ll see you then?” Dove feels let down, but not devastated. It’s better this way, she decides. He can go have fun being social and I can get my rest. Then we’ll have a romantic and social and meaningful night at the Botanical Gardens. And I won’t be the girl who held him back and he won’t be the guy who dragged me away from work.
“I’ll see you.” William nods as he plants a quick kiss on her lips and climbs the ladder.
A few minutes later, steps on the ladder make Dove’s pulse race. He came back He doesn’t want to be social without me. Besides, I should go out with him. Dove puts her book away again and rises from the bunk, readying to go.
“Hey!” Melissa says from the ladder.
Dove turns toward her, surprised. “Oh, hi.”
“Don’t sound so excited to see me!”
Dove shakes her head. “No, I just thought you were William, that’s all.” She takes in Melissa’s outfit. “You look amazing.”
Melissa smooths out her dress. “Thanks.”
Dove toys with the necklace, caught between wanting to stay in and a new feeling cropping up. Loneliness.
“Listen, it’s my birthday … great necklace by the way.”
“A gift from you know who,” Dove says and then, catching up on Melissa’s words, blurts, “You didn’t mention this little fact? That as of today you are one whole year older? How could you have kept it a—”
Melissa interrupts. “I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with being twelve months older. Or maybe I didn’t want to celebrate that a year’s gone by and I’m no closer to …”
“To what?”
“To—something. Look, I’m not going to bore you with my crap tonight. But come out with me.” Melissa shoves a pair of navy blue pants toward Dove. She looks at them, considering whether she should wear them.
“So you do have some sort of party planned?”
Melissa shakes her head and then nods. “I don’t, but Harley’s throwing something small together. Come out with us.”
Off the Trails Page 9
