by Liz Fenton
“Yes, I remember them now.” Jacob frowns, and I wonder if he read about their accident in the newspaper. So far, only our first bartender has connected the dots. “But if they’re the couple I’m thinking of, I don’t think they’ll be giving me a five-star review.”
Obviously he doesn’t know. He’s still speaking about them in the present tense.
“Really?” Nick and I say in unison.
“I probably shouldn’t say anything.”
“It’s okay, James confided that they were having some problems.” Nick jumps in and twirls the lie without skipping a beat.
“Ya, it sure seemed like that. I overheard them bickering before we even started the trail.” He pauses as if he knows what we’re wondering. “I have no idea what about—but you know, that didn’t seem that unusual to me—I’ve seen it all. Honeymooners duking it out, newly engaged folks just like you two, battling. Even in a place like this, it happens.”
Nick and I nod. I’m not sure if Nick really knows what Jacob means, but I do.
“Then once we started hiking—we weren’t even to marker one—she sat down. Said she was a bit dizzy. That she didn’t eat breakfast. But she didn’t want to stop. We both kept checking in, asking her if she was okay. And she said she was, but it was clear she was having a hard time. Finally, James told me they had to quit—that she wasn’t up to it.”
Nick bites his lower lip and balls his hands into fists at his sides. “Did they say what was wrong with her?”
“No, just that she was tired. I offered to stop the tour and escort them back to the bottom of the trail, but James refused, arguing that they weren’t that far up anyway. And Dylan agreed with him. So I let them go back on their own, just hoping the boss didn’t find out. Because it’s really against policy. But I could tell James wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”
Jacob stops talking, and a palpable silence descends until he starts again. “So was she okay? Was she just overheating or maybe even a little out of shape? Because this hike isn’t easy, especially on a hot day like that. Maybe she’d had too much champagne the night before? We see it all here.” He stops again and looks at Nick. Before Nick can respond, Jacob waves his hands. “Ah, I’m being rude. It’s none of my business anyway; we’d better get on with this hike!”
An hour and a half later, we reach the top. Jacob explains that we’re at the Kealaloloa Ridge and tells us we’re looking at the Kaheawa Wind Farm and there are thirty-five wind turbines stretched out before us that are visible from all over Maui. I take a deep breath as Jacob rambles about the history of the wind farm and decide that this time I don’t need Nick’s guided meditation to help me through. If I learned anything yesterday, it’s that I’m stronger than I’ve ever given myself credit for. I made it up this ass-blasting, thigh-burning, steep and rocky hike without a single anxiety attack. And I also accomplished it when she couldn’t. And I know how that sounds—that she got sick and I’m happy about it. And maybe that’s true. But I can’t help but feel competitive. She was sleeping with my husband, after all.
“You did it.” Nick walks up behind me, placing his hand on mine.
“I did,” I say as I look over the cliff’s edge toward the ocean below, letting the wind slice through my hair. I’m shaking, and my heart feels like it might burst through my chest. But you know what? I feel alive.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JACKS—BEFORE
I sipped my piña colada, the cool mix of rum, pineapple, and coconut tasting exactly like I imagined paradise would. My head still buzzed slightly from all the wedding festivities. I was no longer Jacks Conner. Now I’d answer to Mrs. James Morales. And rather than merely drooling over pictures of the cabanas at the Four Seasons hotel in Wailea, I was relaxing in one, the attentive pool boy popping by every few minutes to see if I needed a refill, a cool towel, or anything at all.
I’d never had anyone wait on me, and it felt surreal to be lying under the giant white cabana facing the pristine pool with the grand fountain in the middle, the deep cobalt ocean waters just in the distance. I hadn’t planned to be here. James and I were supposed to be in a Victorian room at a quaint B and B in Santa Barbara. The limited savings we had between us would have barely covered airfare anywhere, so we’d decided to go somewhere local and take a honeymoon later, when we could afford it.
But James’s mom had surprised us with this trip during her toast at the wedding reception, wryly joking that there was no way her son and his new wife were missing out on a proper honeymoon. The bed-and-breakfast we’d booked in Santa Barbara just wouldn’t do. The crowd had tittered and laughed, and I’d noticed James tense at the slight dig his mother had made, but it hadn’t bothered me. I agreed that we deserved a real vacation and would have charged it on a credit card if James had let me. We needed to bond as husband and wife. And if we didn’t go away now, I suspected we’d be one of those couples who never did.
At the reception, I’d been giddy and flushed from the champagne I’d been drinking, and I’d run over and hugged Isabella tightly, feeling thankful I’d inherited such a generous mother-in-law. Isabella flinched slightly when I squeezed her, but I wasn’t surprised. I’d quickly noticed that giving material gifts came easy for my mother-in-law—it was offering the emotional ones she seemed to struggle with. Hopefully, in time, that would change. I was used to an affectionate family—you could never enter my parents’ house without giving them each a tight hug. Once my mom embraced Isabella so tightly at Thanksgiving that I thought she might break her, the pinched look on my mother-in-law’s face something Beth and I had laughed about later.
I had started to pull away from Isabella, but she held on to my shoulders, then leaned in closer, and I’d involuntarily inhaled a strong whiff of her Chanel No. 5 perfume as she whispered, “You can use this romantic getaway to start trying! James told me he’s ready.”
I’d stepped back so I could see her face. I studied Isabella’s hazel eyes. She was serious. James had talked to her about this? I shook off the uneasy feeling that washed over me. I thought about the check that Isabella had given us last month. The money she’d insisted was a gift for the nice big house she wanted us to buy. Which I now clearly understood was payment for the pack of grandkids I was to provide for her. I stood in the center of the ballroom at the Pelican Hill Golf Club and wondered: Would Isabella’s generosity always come with strings?
Now at the hotel, I adjusted my white straw hat to shield my face from the hot sun that was beginning to peer into the cabana. I knew we couldn’t wait long. James and I had talked about kids; I knew he wanted them. My stomach tightened as I thought of my last gynecologist appointment when I’d gone in for my annual exam. I swished the memory away. We were still so young, just twenty-five and twenty-seven, respectively—I still had plenty of time to figure things out.
“What have you been thinking about? You’ve been staring off into space for ten minutes.” James stood over me, his olive skin already a deep brown from the sun, drops of water falling from his red swim trunks to the concrete, creating a speckled pattern by his feet.
I swatted him playfully with my magazine. “Were you stalking me?”
“What if I was?”
“Then I’d say that’s pretty damn creepy!” I laughed.
“If you want to call me names, then fine. I’ll take it. But I blame you!” He pointed at me.
“Me?”
“Yeah. You. It’s not my fault if I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. You’re the most beautiful woman here.”
I smiled. “You said that to me the first time we met.”
“I did?” James sat on the edge of my chair and put his hand on my ankle, sending an electric current up my leg.
I cocked my head. “Yes! How can you not remember that? Or were there so many pretty girls at the store that day that you went from aisle to aisle until one of us took the bait?”
I had been chewing on my thumbnail, debating between a cabernet and a pinot, when I saw an arm rea
ch past me and grab a bottle. “This one,” he’d said as he set the Wild Horse pinot noir in my cart.
I had whipped around, ready to be annoyed. Because, really, who did that? Until I saw his face. The way his eyes sparkled. The slight five-o’clock shadow. And his smile. It shone like a beacon.
“Why should I listen to you?” I’d teased, and pointed at the six-pack of Corona Light in his hand. “You look like a beer drinker to me. And also a fan of kid’s cereal, it seems.” I nodded at the Lucky Charms under his other arm.
“I’m multidimensional. When I’m with the guys, I drink this,” he said, and held up the Corona. “When I’m with the most beautiful woman in the room, I drink this,” he said, grabbing the pinot out of my cart. “And when I’m alone, I eat this.” He held up the red box with the rainbow and leprechaun on the front.
“So what will you be doing tonight?” I blurted before I could stop myself. He was cheesy and had obviously done this before—his charm was effortless, like a skill he’d been honing for years. Yet. There was something about him. In just one minute he’d made me feel more special than my last boyfriend had the entire three months we’d been together—he’d always made me work so damn hard for it. But this guy? He was making it so easy. I was ready for easy.
James had smiled and tucked the bottle under his arm. “Drinking the wine with you, of course.”
I knew Beth would roll her eyes so hard later when I told her the story. But I hadn’t cared. “Tell me when and where.”
That was the beginning of it all. We were married nine months later. And now we were in Maui.
James laughed and stroked my leg. “I may not remember what I said to you at the store that day, but I do know what I thought.”
“Let me guess. You were thinking, ‘She’d better have good taste in wine or this is never going to go anywhere.’”
“No way! I was hoping you’d have some milk for me Lucky Charms,” he said with a poor attempt at an Irish accent.
I pushed him in his tight abs. “You know, surprisingly, your cheesiness was one of the things I loved from the moment I met you.” I ran my fingers through his thick, wet hair. “You wear cheesy well.”
James smiled. “Thanks. I think? You should have seen the look on your face when I grabbed that wine bottle off the shelf!”
“I was about to reach for my Mace until I saw how cute you were!”
“Hey. Cute guys can be psychopaths too.”
I kissed him deeply. “I decided I’d take my chances.”
“Good thing.” He reached up and caressed my breast over my triangle top, and my body caved into his. “Maybe we should go up to the room,” James said. “That cabana boy is going to be here any second. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was coming up with excuses to check on you. He’s been over here every five minutes!”
“Whatever,” I breathed, running my finger inside the waistband of his swim trunks.
“I’m not going to be able to stand up for a couple minutes!” He nodded toward his erection, and we laughed.
I hoped our sex life would never change, that a simple touch could always send sparks flying—that we’d never stop wanting each other with such hot passion. But if I listened to Beth, apparently the odds were stacked against us. My sister had gotten married only four years before and recently confided that their sex life had become routine and she’d found herself fantasizing about George Clooney.
I’d been incredulous; Beth was only a few years in—practically a newlywed! “That’s the pregnancy hormones talking. Look at you! You’re about to burst—almost eight months along.” I’d leaned over and rubbed Beth’s swollen belly and said a silent prayer I’d also have one someday. “After you have the baby, you’ll get the passion back.”
Beth had only rolled her eyes at me as she waddled into the laundry room to wash some baby clothes she’d just purchased.
I traced James’s chest with my finger. “Can I ask you something?”
“If I can get up yet? Nope! I keep looking at your boobs in that bathing suit, and well, unless I want to scare some children, we should probably wait.” He pulled my hands away. “And you should probably stop doing that, or we’re never going to get out of here.”
I flung a towel at him. “Gross! Seriously, I want to ask you something.”
“You have my undivided attention.” James smirked.
“Do you believe in monogamy? Like long-term, forever, never-seeing-another-vagina monogamy?”
“Isn’t it a little late to be bringing this up?” James laughed and pointed to my ring. I noticed his bare finger, remembering his declaration that he didn’t see himself wearing a wedding band. He’d said he’d just lose it, claiming his mom had once bought him an expensive watch and he’d misplaced it the next day. At first I’d been upset, arguing that it would look like he didn’t want to appear married. But he swore that wasn’t it at all. That he loved me, and why did it matter if other people thought he was someone’s husband? All that mattered was that we knew it.
I hadn’t been able to argue with that.
“I’m being serious. Do you really think it’s possible to keep the spark alive with the same person you’ve been having sex with for fifty years? Beth is already preparing to fantasize about whatever hot actor People chooses as the sexiest man alive. And she and Mark have only been married four years!”
“Do people even have sex when they’re seventy? That’s how old my grandmother is!”
“Will you stop? I’m trying to talk to you here. Forget fifty years. What about five?”
“Five? God I hope we’re still into each other like this when we’re only five years in. But, Jacks, marriage is about a lot more than sex.” James said the last part with an air of authority that slightly bothered me. Like he was an expert on the subject.
“I know that.” I sat up and crossed my legs. “I’m not just talking about the physical part. I mean all of it—the same person day in and day out. You don’t think that’s going to be hard?”
“Of course it will. We’re both going to find ourselves attracted to other people along the way. That’s normal. What’s not normal is acting on it.”
“True,” I said, and thought about the story Beth had told me last week about her neighbors. The wife had just found out her husband had been cheating on her for a year and a half. She’d sobbed to Beth that she’d had no clue. I had shaken my head, not understanding how betrayal could be undetected in a marriage for so long.
“Have you ever cheated on anyone?” The question flew out of my mouth. I’d never asked him before. But that story about Beth’s neighbors had gotten under my skin. Made me think that maybe I should have.
“No! But is this some secret plan to make my erection go away?” He looked down. “Because it worked.”
I laughed. “No. I heard this horrible story about Beth’s neighbor the other day, and it made me think,” I said, and gave James the details. That a text had come in on her husband’s phone, and she’d grabbed it thinking it was their son in college who always checked in on Sunday mornings. But it wasn’t him. It was a picture of a naked woman lying in bed. And when she asked her husband who it was, he told her everything. And the hardest part, she told Beth, was how relieved he seemed that she finally knew the truth. That he didn’t have to hide any longer.
James kissed me lightly when I finished. “That won’t be you and me. I promise. We just need to make sure to be completely open with each other. And we need to be the kind of people who don’t look at each other’s phones.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I balked.
“I’m kidding, Jacks!” He reached over and handed his phone to me. “Here you go. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I’ve ever cheated?”
James stroked my hair. “I don’t have to. You’re the most honest and loyal person I’ve ever met. It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you,” he whispered.
Now wa
s the time to tell him. Especially after what Isabella had implied at the reception. The house. The honeymoon. It was only a matter of time before she’d start putting more pressure on him. That’d she want to be paid back in the form of a grandchild.
But I couldn’t find the words. I wanted to savor every minute of our honeymoon, not taint it with bad news. That could wait until we got back. “You’re right,” I whispered as I stood up and guided him away from the cabana and toward the hotel room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JACKS—AFTER
My mom likes to check boxes. Dry cleaning, check. Pick up prescriptions, check. Jacks is okay, check.
She’s called me twice today—trying her best to tick that box next to my name. I’m not sure if it’s because Beth told her where I am (even though I asked her not to) or if her mother’s intuition is kicking in and she knows I’m somewhere she wouldn’t approve of. Doing something she might classify as crazy. But either way, it’s just another thing I’m going to have to deal with if I answer her call. Manage her needs. She needs me to tell her I’m fine. That I’m getting through it. She wants me to say something I may never say again: that I’m “back to normal.”
Because the thing is, my mom doesn’t do well when things don’t go as expected. She’s always needed Beth and me to dot our i’s and cross our t’s, to pay our bills, to be good daughters and wives. If she knew I have a therapist, she’d flip her lid. Why on God’s green earth would you do that? Just like how she reacted when I told her I was engaged to James after just three months.
“Hmm.” My mom pinched the fabric of her canary-yellow cardigan sweater just below her neck. Someone looking on would think she had a chill, but I knew better. She was pissed.
“Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.” I poured a glass of iced tea and sat on one of the barstools by the kitchen counter, waiting.
