by Livia Ellis
“I'm not really upset. I've just had a very rocky day, and I'd prefer to concentrate on the positive rather than dwell on a past I can't change.” She silently congratulated herself on how very pleasant she was. In the real world of work and mortgage payments, she would have been fuming. In Bermuda, life was different. When the woman selling flowers glided past their table, Eduardo stopped her and purchased a small peace offering.
He offered her the flowers and an apology. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed you were single and childless by choice. I don't know enough about you to make assumptions. I just feel as if I already know you so well even when I don't.” That he felt a need to apologize revealed another level of his charm. He bought flowers and could admit he'd made a mistake rather than accusing her of being hypersensitive.
She took the flowers and smiled. “You're forgiven.” She lifted her bouquet and the scent in filled her nose. “What is that?” She held the bouquet to him and watched as he inhaled deeply.
“Lily.”
“It's very nice. Thank you.”
“You are beautiful and desirable, and I can't imagine you don't have a line of men waiting for a chance to get to know you.”
“Or maybe I do and destiny has just been keeping me conveniently available until you came around.” It was well within her right to tease him about destiny. “There you have it. You're divorced and I'm single. Destiny.”
His fingers wrapped around hers. “You assumed I was divorced, but I'm a widower,” he said.
“Uhh...” Henna wasn't sure how to respond to that. Part of her wanted to say Great! Fantastic! The other part of her knew that would be very inappropriate. She was happy he was single. Just not pleased with how he became single.
Eduardo reached across the table and took her hand. “It's fine. I know it's awkward for you to hear that. I didn't correct you because I hate that look people get in their eyes when I tell them the truth. Like they're supposed to pity me. I'm tired of being pitied. I want to get on with my life.”
Yet another thing they had in common. She wanted to reach across the table and hug him. Instead, she smiled and squeezed his hand. “I hate that look. I know what you mean. That oh poor you look. I get that look a lot, especially from women with babies. It really annoys me. Try being an obstetrician and a single woman in her late thirties. I get the pity look all the time. That's rough.”
Eduardo nodded and grinned. “You understand. My wife Pilar died two years ago. And today...” He looked at their joint hands. “Today, I too, had a very bad start. I rushed out of my hotel in Miami, and I left my wedding band in the bathroom. Perhaps it was destiny telling me to take it off. I know what I am talking about when I tell you that not everything in life can be planned for. Pilar was forty-two when she died. It was not in the plan.”
“I guess you might be right,” she said, forced to concede to his point. “Not everything can be planned for.”
“I loved my wife very much, and I will always miss her, but I am still alive and life does go on.” He squeezed her hand before releasing it and reaching for the wine bottle to fill their glasses. “Like you, I haven't given up. I also think I have a lot to offer. I know for me this is the right time.”
His intense stare and words didn't intimidate her as it might have coming from another man. The normal reflex to flee from a man who purposefully discussed anything more intense than the weather or the latest must read novel on a first date didn't send her running. They'd skipped the first few awkward dates and landed in a place where the sex was phenomenal and the conversation had substance. She was in uncharted water. Not even with Simon had she gotten this far into a relationship. He raised a hand and called over the waitress to order a second bottle of wine. How did he do that without seeming like a jerk? Hopefully, it was a learned skill and another aspect of his multifaceted charm.
“I think I'd like your mother. She sounds really smart, and I happen to agree with her. It is not a crime to refuse to settle.”
“Speaking for myself, I'm very happy you didn't. Otherwise, we wouldn't be enjoying each other’s company. So tell me about yourself. I want to know everything and not just what I'm assuming.”
Happy to move on in the conversation, Henna charged on, “I'm originally from New York, but I've been living in San Francisco for nearly fourteen years now. My mother is a homemaker, my father works for the police department, my brother works for the CIA, and my sister is....” she pauses for a moment. Eden. How to describe Eden. “Getting married.”
“Would this be your slutty sister who has carnal knowledge of your best friend Simon, forever closing the door on any future chance of developing a romantic relationship with him?”
“You do pay attention. I probably shouldn't have called her slutty. That was a bit unfair. I will say that she'd had a massive crush on Simon since she was about ten. Getting him in the sack, or more accurately on his back in my mother's game room, was more the fulfillment of a teenager's desire than it was anything else. Unfortunately, Simon is a thirty-five year old man who noticed my sister wasn't a child anymore a few years back.”
Eduardo refilled her glass then hers. “I'm not sure I want to know all of this,” he said with a grin.
“Anyhow, what was a quick and meaningless fling for my sister, pretty well crushed Simon. He was ready to leave his girlfriend for my sister. Needless to say, my loyalties are a bit split at the moment. I love my sister, but Simon is like a brother and I love him, too. This whole thing between them pretty well drove him to actually set a date with his girlfriend.”
What had gotten in to her? A few hours back, she didn't want Eduardo to know her full name. There she was, sitting across the table from him delving into personal matters as if he were her primary confidant.
“Honestly, I'm not dealing very well with my sister getting married. I always figured I'd get married before her.” She looked across the table at Eduardo who was polite enough not to appear bored. “I'm sorry. I'm monopolizing the conversation. Tell me about yourself.” She picked up her wineglass and brought it to her lips.
Before he could answer the waitress arrived with four plates of calorie-injected, butter-laced, and wine-doused French Caribbean fusion cuisine. “I don't know where to start. Are we sharing? How do we do this? Should we get another plate?”
“Henna,” Eduardo said her name.
“What?” A large lobster ravioli was forked between her teeth.
“Relax. It's just dinner. We've shared a fair amount as it is. I think we can share a few plates.”
“Oh, my god,” she sighed. “That's incredible.” She picked up her fork and knife and speared a ravioli. “Try.”
Eduardo took the ravioli and nodded. “That's nice.”
She reached for the steak with her fork and knife. “I never eat red meat or sugar. I especially never eat red meat covered in butter, cream, and wine, but I think I just might have to make an exception.”
“Religious reasons?”
“God no,” she said. “More like thigh and rear end reasons. I'm not religious at all, but I really can be pretty neurotic about the size of my ass.”
“You have a phenomenal ass,” he said.
“Thank you.” She winked at him. “You're not so bad yourself. I think there may be dessert in our future. I have no intention of choosing between the cheesecake and the crème brulee. You've unleashed a monster. One that likes food, booze, sex, and you. Be prepared to deal with the consequences. Or at least an hour of my chasing you around on the tennis court tomorrow. Or some incredibly vigorous sex when we get back to the room tonight. Or both.”
“I'm pretty tough,” he said. “I think I can handle both.”
“Tell me more about you.”
“I am Colombian,” he said. “From Colombia.”
She could hear her father telling her very clearly that Colombia had two main exports and both were highly addictive. She was fairly certain Eduardo was an honest man, but that didn't preclude her from having a
little fun. He'd already been warned. Fun and playful Henna had been unleashed.
“Really?” Her eyebrows twitched up. “Are you a drug czar? Like Pablo Escobar or Manuel Noriega? He was Colombian, wasn't he?”
His face became a battleground between expressions of shock and horror. “Noriega was Panamanian and a criminal. I am not a drug czar.”
“Part of the cartel? Let's be honest. You lay down a fair amount of cash on clothes from what I've seen, and you were ready to pay top dollar for what I've given you for free. Not that I'm judging. I'm just curious.”
“What— I—”he stared at her.
Henna couldn't help but to feel pleased with herself as she swallowed more steak. “You look both annoyed and pretty darn insulted.”
“That's because I am.” His eyes had darkened and his mouth slashed a firm line across his face.
“Good,” she said. “We're even for the prostitute thing. You do believe me now, right?”
Eduardo stared at her for a moment then laughed. “Henna...” He took her hand and lifted it to her lips then turned her hand and brought her inner wrist to his mouth for a kiss. His lips lingered for a moment as her pulse thumped beneath his light touch. “I deserved that. I'm sorry I insulted you earlier. We are even.”
“So what do you really do?”
“I told you. I'm a farmer. I have a coffee plantation in the Andean highlands, which has been in my family for two hundred years. I am a widower, as you know, and I have two grown children. What are you doing in Bermuda? Other than fulfilling the fantasies of lonely widowers?”
The sommelier arrived with the second bottle of wine and uncorked it. “I'm here for my sister's wedding. She's marrying some guy she's only known for three months. Don't get me wrong, I love my sister and he's seems very nice from what I know so far, but come on...” She rolled her eyes as she often did when talking about Eden's wedding. “Everyone loves my sister, and he just seems crazy about her. Which, by the way, crazy is the word of the day when it comes to the wedding. But it's just like my sister to do something like this.”
Eduardo picked up the wine bottle and filled their glasses as a smile spread across his face. “Tell me more about your sister. And this incredibly charming, handsome, and intelligent young Colombian who is probably not the son of a drug czar, she's marrying.” It was almost like he was laughing at her, but she wasn't in on the joke.
The little Henna in her head that tried to give her advice and tips she usually ignored in favor of common sense, hummed and hooted at her. The problem with that little voice was that she'd ignored it so many times she barely heard it anymore. She'd listened to it earlier when it told her to be a vixen, but at that moment, she didn't pay much attention to what it was trying to say. “You'd love my sister. The two of you could talk about destiny for hours.”
“I imagine we could. I suspect she's also a deadly tennis player and speaks excellent Spanish. So, tennis tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she said. “Especially after dessert. But I'm more of a golfer. Please no jokes about doctors who play golf. My father has already made every joke that can be made. But let me tell you about Eden. She's passionate, spontaneous, the life of every party, never plans anything, and wholly believes in destiny. She moved to Italy because a psychic told our Aunt Midge that Eden would meet the love of her life at the Trevi Fountain. And by god she did. Right at the Trevi Fountain.” She slapped her hand on the table for emphasis. “Only Eden! There's a nauseatingly romantic tale that involves a broken heel, a group of Japanese tourists―”
Eduardo lifted a finger silencing her. “And a nun on a Vespa
“Uhh…yeah…? How did you know that?”
“Your sister's name is Eden?” He leaned in slightly and smiled as if they shared a joke. “We are here for the same purpose. It is destiny. I knew it from the moment I first saw you.”
Little Henna in her head just snickered and called her a dumb-dumb. She really needed to start listening to her inner voice. “You're here for the wedding?”
She wasn't shocked. The last clear and rational thought that passed through her brain had been when she'd gotten out of bed that morning and remembered to turn off the hot water heater before she left the house. Simon had no hot water. Oh well. He'd figure it out eventually. Proof she still wasn't wholly with it after her journey from hell, her initiation into the mile-high club, followed up by the ride in the limo and then their conscience-altering tumble into bed. It was no wonder the obvious connections were missed.
“I am,” he said warmly. “Our meeting was clearly destiny.”
“Or maybe just a series of coincidences?” The voice in her head just chuckled then told her that maybe she should pay more attention to her inner voice in the future.
“Or destiny?” he pressed.
“Let's just say I'm a bit more pragmatic than that. You may have convinced me I can't plan for everything, but I'm not ready to buy into destiny quite yet.”
“Perhaps I can change your mind,” he said. “So you are Eden's sister. I am Romeo's father.”
“You're Romeo's father?” Henna looked at the strong lines of Eduardo's profile and at his hair that was black in the moonlight. At the most, he could be a very young-looking forty, but no way was he the father of a twenty-six-year-old lawyer working at the Colombian Embassy in Rome. She'd seen pictures of Romeo. She had chatted over the internet with Romeo. They were social networking friends. It could not be possible the man sitting across from her had a grown son. But then again, the hair, the eyes...she sighed. “You're Romeo's father.”
“Ro-may-oh.” Eduardo chuckled as he raised his finger and ordered another round with a flick of his wrist. “It is a family name. Both his grandfather and his great-grandfather were Romeos. I am Romeo also, but I've always been called Eduardo. And just so you know, my son is very much in love with Eden. You'll also be happy to know he is very firmly grounded, which is a good complement to her carefree nature. I'm very surprised he's getting married so suddenly, but he's in love and that I understand. Eden is a lovely young woman.”
“And a deadly tennis player. How did I not catch that?”
“It's been a long day.”
“How old are you?” She studied his face with its strong lines and slight wrinkles around the eyes that spoke of both wisdom and a touch of mischievousness.
“Forty-four.”
“Really?” She examined Eduardo in the gentle ambient light. “You don't look forty-four. What's your secret?”
“Sunshine, fresh air, and hard work,” he said. “My grandfather is ninety years old. Every day he still walks through the coffee groves inspecting the crops.”
“You're my sister's father-in-law.” She shook her head. It might actually be possible that cosmic forces completely out of her control were attempting to manipulate her fate. “Oh, my god. I told you about Eden and Simon!”
Eduardo laughed. “I really didn't want to know that. But never mind. It's not like my son was a virgin when they met. Not even remotely. I can say with confidence that he had his share of women before he met Eden.”
“Promise me you won't say a word.”
“I would never repeat anything you told me in confidence. What occurs between us is only between us.”
She smiled. “Good. Thank you.”
“Destiny.” Eduardo raised his glass to her before drinking.
“Destiny,” she said flatly. “I don't mean to be insulting, but you strike me as an educated man, yet you seem to think there are supernatural forces controlling the tide of your life. It just doesn't seem to fit.”
“I am educated,” he said. “I have a degree in agriculture from Universidad de Buenos Aires and an MBA from Georgetown. I also believe in destiny. Do you believe in nothing?”
“Not really,” she said.
“This is destiny, Henna. I know it. There is a bruja who lives on my plantation in a hut. She is very old and very wise. My father knew her to be an old woman when he was a boy. When my wife
died, the bruja told me that I would meet a woman who was nothing and everything like me. A beautiful woman from a far off land. And here you are.”
“Are you telling me that an old woman who lives in a hut told you we would meet?” He looked so sane. So normal. So very handsome with his perfect teeth, his cafe au lait complexion, and his deep brown eyes.
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Henna, I'm perfectly sane. I know about the gypsy woman who told your aunt that Eden should go to Rome. The bruja told Romeo he would find his true love in Rome. Destiny brought them together just as we have been brought together.”
“The bruja told Romeo to go to Rome.”
“Yes. She told him that he would meet a girl with golden hair and green eyes. When he met that girl, she would fall for him.”
“And Eden twisted her ankle and fell when the nun on the scooter nearly ran her over.”
“And Romeo was there to catch her. If that isn't destiny, then I don't know what is.”
She narrowed her eyes a little bit as she stared at Eduardo. Her lips pressed together as she digested Eduardo's interpretation of the story of the first time Eden and Romeo met. Arguably, it was much more romantic than her version of the story. How she told it, her dippy sister was leading a group of Japanese tourists around Rome when she nearly got ran over by a nun on a Vespa, twisted her ankle, and Romeo just happened to be there to catch her before she fell on her ass.
“You want to believe.” His fingers brushed down her jaw. “You are dying to believe. I'm going to convince you.”
“Doubtful. But if it's any consolation, you have put a dent into my skepticism.”
“Open your heart to the possibility, Henna,” Eduardo said. “What do you have to lose?”
Again she looked out at the bay and the vessels drifting past. “Nothing,” she said. “I have nothing to lose.” As the evening wound to a close, Eduardo knew what he wanted and hoped Henna wanted the same. Telling her that destiny had brought them together and that the bruja had predicted he would meet a woman who would make his life complete once again might have been a risk, but he had to be himself. If she had run away or found his thinking too obtuse for her liking, then he needed to know sooner rather than when it was too late. She hadn't run. She'd given him a look that let him know she thought he was a bit odd, but she had stayed.
