Boston sat back and ran a hand through his long hair. He should probably cut it. He was cutting everything else, why not? “You said you were too dependent on me, Hani, but when haven’t I needed something? I needed you to save me from the streets. I needed The Canopy to save me from booze. I needed Emily to save me from Jordan. I can’t do it anymore, either.” He lifted one nonchalant shoulder, but the words stung nonetheless. “I’m going home. Home home,” he clarified before Hani could mistake him. “To Mesa.”
Hani took a good minute to soak it in, a deep frown creasing his big, brown face. He toyed with the end of his braid. “I was hoping you meant in a metaphorical sense. Does your mama know yet?”
“Yeah, we’ve talked.” An incredibly uncomfortable conversation, but in the end his mother had cried and his father had grunted something unintelligible but happy sounding. Boston scratched his cheek. “I was never charged with anything for the incident at the school. I mean, I was the talk of the administration for about a year, but nothing official. I can teach.”
Hani’s slow headshake held the essence of awe. “You ain’t messing around. You’re really going back. Not just to Mesa, but back to everything.”
“Everything I had before I met Jordan. I got another confession for you, too.”
A thick black eyebrow went up. “Can I handle it?”
“I went to the bar the other night. After we argued. I sat at the bar, I ordered a beer and a shot of their finest tequila because Emily had me asked to hold the change from our ice cream cones earlier that day, and I was feeling like an asshole. She shut me out, and you turned your back.”
Hani slumped back and ran a hand over his hair, much as Boston often did. “Aw, Bos, c’mon—”
“It’s okay, man. We’re past it. Anyway, I ordered my booze and I sat there staring at these two drinks in front of me. And nothing. No burning desire, no drool dribbling down my chin. I finally ordered an iced tea to-go and got the hell out of there.”
A long, rumbling laugh started low in Hani’s throat. “You’re gonna be all right, brother. You screwed up with Emily, but you’ll be okay.”
They sat together in contemplative silence. An assortment of images flickered through Boston’s mind like an old movie in the cozy silence wrought with nostalgia. The Canopy, Arizona…and Emily. Mesa wasn’t too far from L.A. Maybe he—
Hani broke the spell with a quiet moan as he hoisted himself from his seat. “Well, brother, I’ll miss you. I don’t know how the hell you’re gonna handle that desert heat after living in the tropics so long—”
A figure waltzed into The Canopy.
Boston glanced up and the moment suspended in time.
Emily looked back at him with bright eyes and a barely concealed smile like she had a secret in her pocket. “You get used to it.”
* * * *
Her life was about to take a glorious turn toward a future she hadn’t believed herself worthy of, or plummet to a level of pathetic, known only by lonely old crones and crazy cat ladies. Emily prayed for the former and smoothed down her rough curls.
Hani and Boston stared at her.
Nerves hit her, hard and fast, and she used an old boardroom trick to sooth them. Not the old gambit of pretending they were naked—generally speaking, nudity was never the answer. During presentations she simply pretended everyone in the room really, really liked her.
Normally, it worked.
But these nerves were altogether different than the ones she handled on company time. This was no presentation, and she had to squelch the dancing loons in her stomach before they killed her resolve. “Hi.”
Hani acted first. He barreled toward her and, for an instant, she considered what to do if he tackled her. Thankfully, he stopped shy of mowing her down to wrap his huge arms around her and lift her entirely off the ground in a smothering hug. He murmured low in her ear. “About those red shorts of his. If you love him, you’ll—”
“Learn to love his shorts, too?”
“Burn them when he isn’t looking.” He released her and stood back with a big, dumb grin, his massive hands gripping her arms. She’d miss him. She’d never met anyone who’d made her feel tiny the way Hani did. “Man, y’all gonna have some cute kids. Your dark curls and Boston’s big ol’ blue peepers.”
Emily’s face heated.
His deep, bellowing laughter rang out at the same time Akela and Jordan came down the stairs.
Emily deflated some. Of course Jordan would be at The Canopy, but Boston had claimed to have a plan. Nothing to do but trust him.
Hani patted Emily’s arm, gave her a secret wink, and shuffled over to Akela. He put a beefy arm around his sister’s shoulders and guided her away from them, bantering as they went in the comfortable way of close siblings.
Emily didn’t have it in her to look at Boston—she was still gathering her courage—so she regarded Jordan expectantly.
The hurled insults never came. Jordan toed an imaginary spot on the floor and, after a shuddering breath, squared her shoulders and met Emily’s wary gaze.
Her deep green eyes were always amazing. Not quite like windows the way Quinn might poetically describe them, as a view into one’s soul or some nonsense, but certainly windows in the sense that Jordan had the power to dress them however she pleased. Sultry, indignant, uncaring, disinterested, flat, lively, sparkling, glittering, and hard as stone. She’d mastered them all.
For the first time, they weren’t adorned in some kind of window-dressing. “Emily, I’m sorry.” Okay, so the window-dressing might have fallen away, but Jordan still had an edge to her voice, one that would never apologize for anything.
Emily had to admire her grit.
Jordan pushed a strand of long, dark hair behind one ear. “I guess I work here now. I don’t recall drudgery in a soup kitchen being part of the twelve-step program.”
Boston spoke for the first time. “Why take twelve when you can do it in one?”
Emily wouldn’t so easily disregard the program, but… “So long as you want it, Jordan, I think the steps can vary.”
“I do. Just…so you know. I do.”
An awkward moment passed. No one seemed to know what to say next. Jordan mumbled an excuse to venture toward the kitchen with a limp-wristed wave and a toss of her hair over her shoulder.
Emily faced Boston and caught him examining her. “What?”
“I didn’t know if you were still around.”
“You could’ve found out easily enough.”
He shifted in his plastic chair. “I suppose, yeah. I guess I assumed you knew your own mind and you’d already said good-bye, Emily. I’m tenacious when it suits me but not stupid. Chasing someone who doesn’t want to be chased is called stalking. Trust me, I’m an English teacher. I’m awesome with words.”
“You’re right. I made myself pretty clear.” She let the sentiment settle and glanced around the barren dining hall. “Maybe we can take a walk?”
Boston lifted a shoulder. Not in agreement. “Or you could have a seat and listen for a minute. Last time we spoke, you did all the talking. But like I said, English is kind of my thing, and I have a few thoughts of my own to share.” Another shrug, the nonchalant kind she knew he used to cover other emotions. “Or, hell, maybe you don’t care. Did you come to say good-bye to the others? Or did you leave something behind?”
She had, actually. But not what he imagined. “That’s a crappy way to ask me why I’m here. But you’re the one talking this time. So, talk.” She settled into the chair next to Boston’s.
He squinted at her. Even narrowed, his eyes were round and bluer than ever. “Why is it we’re always so combative? What gets our hackles up?”
“My hackles are fine, thank you.” She crossed her arms and fought to keep a grin from stealing over her face. He was defensive and contrary as usual. She’d let him get whatever he needed to off his chest before she came down on it with a mallet, crushing his excuses and rea
sons with the only force on Earth with the power to do so.
Love.
Boston sat back and did his cheek-smoothing. “Someone had to shove me. Someone has to shove Jordan. But… I realize it doesn’t necessarily have to be me who does the shoving.”
Emily cocked her head to the side. “May I?”
A smile threatened, but Boston fought it and won. “Emily, it’s really, really stupid for a woman to look twice at a guy like me. You’re the kind of woman I see with certain guys, guys like me, and I say, ‘What is she thinking? Why that loser?’ I’m that loser.”
Her heart constricted. “Boston—”
He closed his eyes like he needed strength, and they popped open. “No, I’m going to say this if it kills me, and you’re going to let me. We’re not dancing around it anymore. If there’s one thing you and I excel at, it’s getting real, am I right? With Jordan, the answer isn’t me. It’s this place.” His gaze briefly trailed the ceiling. “I can’t be her Hani. Hell, even Hani can’t be her Hani. Now that he’s leaving, too.”
Too? “Who else—”
A finger went up along with the compressed lips of a reprimand.
“Sorry, Mr. Rondibett.”
“As for me, I’m tired of being that loser. I wasn’t always a loser. I’ve never been like you, never sat at the top of the food chain or anything. But once upon a time, I liked myself. I respected myself, and I’d have never been okay with becoming a loser.” He adjusted so his elbows rested on his knees. “What I said about being good enough for you, having a plan. The plan is to be good enough, Em. I’m unpacking my wrinkle-free khakis, getting it ‘together,’ because if I can run this place and help other people, why can’t I run a classroom and help myself? Fear’s kept me tied down for so long I think I forgot I’ve known the escape route all along. Jordan can only take from me what I let her have, but you reminded me—showed me—that power is something each of us has. We only need to be willing to wield it.” Finally, a sad smile formed. “I’m going home to Mesa.”
Her hands flew to her chest. “But you love Honolulu! You can’t walk away like it’s nothing, like it won’t haunt you every day. You told me yourself you wouldn’t go back to Arizona unless God himself tugged you by the ankles.”
“Or,” he replied quietly, “my mother said please.”
It sunk in. Boston was really leaving Hawaii. “Your parents.”
His lovely blue eyes seemed to stare at nothing. “I knew I’d have to one day. They didn’t ask me to, but I can’t hide out anymore, afraid of real life, afraid of facing them and the inevitable.”
Emily couldn’t take it anymore. She stood and reached for Boston, taking him by the hands and pulling him out of his chair. She put her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. “I’m sorry, Boston. I’m so happy for you, but I’m sorry for what you have to lose.”
It took him a stunned minute, but he finally embraced her with the care of a man cradling glass. “Mesa won’t be so bad. It’s close to a few intriguing places I’ve never been and wouldn’t mind investigating. Places like Vegas. Lake Tahoe.” A pause. “Los Angeles.”
Her pulse skipped. “I had no idea you were so interested in travel,” she murmured against his chest.
“Yeah, well, once I’m different, more like you—”
Emily stepped back from his embrace in a sudden, jarring motion. “You can’t be different. You can’t try to be like me. That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, please. Look at me.” He held his arms aloft and even managed a small circle to give her the full view of his attire. “You said Jordan was right about our differences, and she is. You can’t take me anywhere.”
“Boston, I swear, if you try to adjust to me, it won’t work. You can’t just change. I mean, fine if you want to wear decent clothes again and go back to teaching, but I like this.” She ran her hands over his chest and tugged on his shirt. “I like you, and you’ll ruin everything if you become someone else. I’m not changing, why should you?”
He made up the distance between them and fingered the curls on either side of her jaw. “I won’t become someone else. I’ll be the same jerk I am today.” He gave her a bright, winning smile. “I might have to cut my hair, though.”
The horror! Her eyes must’ve popped out of their sockets. “The hell you will. You can tie it back if the school administrators take issue. I know a fantastic lawyer in L.A., and she’ll be all over that reverse sexist nonsense like Spam on rice.”
Boston tugged on one of the curls twisting around his finger and grew sober. “I don’t have the gall to ask you to wait for me, Em, but I’m gonna come find you eventually. You wait and see.”
She let her head fall back and laughed with abandon. “If you think for one minute I’d let you out of my sight for some other woman to come along and snatch up a good-looking teacher with sexy beach hair and eyes like soft denim, you are out of your ever-loving mind.”
She shook her head, another soft chuckle escaping as she took several steps back and turned around to show Boston her back. She pushed the straps of her thin bathing suit cover down to her waist, revealing two string bows holding her bikini top in place. In one quick motion, she swept her hair from her neck and over her shoulder to expose the skin.
Boston’s sharp intake of breath made her smile. “Holy shit. Are those… You got tattoos?”
“Kulia on my left shoulder. It means ‘effort’ or ‘try.’ And on the right, kalele, which is supposed to mean ‘trust.’ Of course, I had to take the tattoo artist’s word for it.” She let go of her hair and faced him. “I got them to remind me of what’s important. This—” she pointed to Boston and herself in turn—“I trust this. It feels right. It feels like home. And it’s worth the risk of trying, isn’t it?”
Boston’s smile blossomed slow and wide. He cupped her face with his hands and, without any further warning, kissed her, equally tense and tender. She came away breathless, and his gaze held a promise as it swept her face, from her parted lips to her eyes and back.
“I swear, Em, one day I’m gonna deserve you.”
“You already do.”
He lifted a doubtful eyebrow but didn’t push the issue. “You got any more surprises for me?”
How had he known? She bit her lip. “Well, I did get a pink hibiscus, but I thought we’d make a game of you finding it.”
He dropped his chin to his chest. “I’ll be damned. I’m in love with a yuppie.”
“Pfft. That’s nothing. Born and raised in southern California, came all the way to Hawaii to fall for a beach bum.”
“Talk about expediting.”
She shoved him playfully but took in a heaving breath. “There’s, uh, one more thing you probably ought to know.”
“Yeah? Is it another tattoo? I swear they’re like potato chips.”
She tilted her head. “No, but I have given my next one some thought. Something meaningful, interesting, and eye-catching. A reminder of my time here.”
“Like the Spam logo?”
“You’re hilarious.”
He crossed his arms and set his feet wide apart as if bracing himself. “So, if not another tattoo, what’s the big secret?”
She sucked in a breath, rubbed her hands together, and took solace in the fact Boston would be the easiest person to tell. The impending conversation with her family was enough to give her hives. “You’re not the only one who felt a little change was in order. I’ve learned as much from you as you have from me, the most important thing being that… Oh, damn, I do get wordy when I’m emotional. I quit my job. There. I said it.”
Concern washed over Boston’s features. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, actually. I’m great. It’s just, well, you know what happens when you quit your job, right?” A nervous giggle escaped her. “Boston, I’m pretty sure I’m homeless.”
He laughed. The jerk laughed, picked her up, and swung her around in a circle. He returned her to her feet w
ith a gleeful grin. “Well, hot damn!” He cupped her face a second time and kissed her again with a fierceness that floored her. “Do you know what this means, Em? We finally have something in common.”
Epilogue
“It took you guys long enough.”
Quinn’s groan traveled through the airways, and Emily swore her cell phone vibrated from the sheer force of her sister’s misery. “I’m old, Emily. Women my age have to think about it before they commit.”
“What could you possibly need to meditate on for three whole years?”
“You know, stuff. It’s not like I can take maternity leave. I attend conferences every year, from Phoenix to Perth, Australia. Do lectures and whatnot. How can I do all that and tote around an infant?”
Hell if Emily knew. All she knew was how amazing any child of Quinn and Jack’s was bound to be. His charm, her poise. Her natural litheness, his piercing teal eyes. “So, how’s your first trimester coming along? How do you feel?”
Another groan, this one distinctly pitiful. “Like my stomach is working part-time hours.”
“Ew.” Emily grimaced. “Barf city?”
“In Barf County, south of Barfville, home of the Hurling Barfers.”
“Well, as much as I hate to steal your thunder, I might have some bigger news than you do.”
Quinn’s tone turned flat. “I’m pregnant, Em. How can you possibly one-up me?”
“Yeah, but who didn’t see that coming? As I’ve mentioned, you’re actually behind schedule.”
“All right, spit it out.”
Emily cleared her throat and promptly forgot the poised speech she had prepared. She even had a bullet list around Boston’s apartment somewhere. “Okay,” she breathed out. “All right. So. Okay. Most shocking, I suppose, is I quit my job. I’m unemployed for the first time since fifteen. I haven’t worn pantyhose in at least a month, and I can’t fathom wrestling into a pair. Ever again, in fact. And I’m moving. So, there’s that. Boston and I are going to Arizona, but I’ve got to get my stuff from my apartment before my landlady sells it off.”
Relapse in Paradise Page 22
