Almost Paradise

by Chris Keniston

  “Good. He called twice yesterday. Seemed really anxious to talk with you. Wanted to know if you got the invitation.”

  “I can read.”

  Lexie’s brow curled into a vee. “Did you call him back?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?”

  Lexie pushed the paper into Billy’s hand and shook her head. “He really wants to talk to you.” Turning her attention to Angela, she tilted her head toward the front door. “Let’s go. I’m starved.”

  As she crossed the threshold, Angela heard Billy call out, “Call if you need us.”

  Without looking back, she answered. “Will do.” Though she didn’t see that happening. She was done making a fool of herself.

  Chapter Seven

  “Remind me exactly what the doctor said about my ribs?” Angela moved gingerly in place, trying to find a comfortable position on the couch.

  Lexie walked into the living room carrying a bed tray with a dish of toast and a cup of ginger tea. “He didn’t mention your ribs, but he said your shoulder might hurt. Something about the remnants of the gas they had to pump into you.”

  “I certainly hope his aim was better once inside because my shoulder is no where near my ribs, and right now under my ribs is what hurts.”

  “Maybe this will help. My grandmother swears by ginger tea for aches and pains. The crackers should help with the nausea.”

  “I’m not so nauseous anymore. Though I’m not ready to enter any dance contests.” Truth was she felt like she’d been run through a meat grinder. Twice. She wasn’t sure what hurt more, the pins and needles poking at her side or the stabs under her ribs. And for what? Having increased fertility wasn’t worth much if she had no one to be fertile with.

  “You do have a little more color in your face.”

  Standing in front of her, Lexie looked left then right, skimming the length of her. “Can you sit up a bit?”

  She could, but the better question was did she want to? Placing a hand at either side of her, she pushed back against the cushions, instantly regretting her efforts. “Damn.” She hissed through the pain.

  “Crap.” Lexie dropped the tray on the end table and spun around patting at the pillows, grimacing as though she’d been the one to stupidly shift in place.

  “It’s okay.” Angela held up her hands. “But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll pass on the tea. Just nibble on the crackers.” Or bite a bullet.

  “I’m thinking we should reconsider tonight’s moviefest.” Lexie stood stiffly.

  “Why?” Her insides had eased from feeling

  sliced with a butcher knife to merely being stabbed by an ice pick. But for the next few days, lying still would remain numbers one, two, and three at the top of her to-do list.

  “We picked all comedies.”

  “Yeah.” Angela nodded. “Kara insisted laughter was the best medicine.”

  “I know. But I don’t think she counted on sore ribs.”

  “Oh. Right.” Moving and laughing were both high on her not-to-do list. “Maybe I can laugh my way to better health next week.”

  “Agreed. Good-bye My Cousin Vinny, hello The Da Vinci Code.” Lexie handed her a cup of tea. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” Now that she’d managed to sit up a bit higher, she might as well drink Grandma’s famed painkilling tea. Not that she expected it to make much of a difference.

  “So. What’s the plan?” Lexie sank into the nearby armchair.

  “For starters, I’ve decided I’m sleeping on the sofa. An army of eligible men couldn’t get me to walk to my bedroom tonight.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Yeah, she did, but she didn’t want to go there. A knock sounded, followed by the clacking of heels up the stairs.

  “Have I missed anything?” Kara crossed the room, holding up a small turquoise shopping bag. “Ooh. She brings gifts.” Lexie pushed to her feet. “What do we have?”

  “It’s not for you.” Kara handed Angela the paper bag.

  Fingering past the colorful tissue paper, she peeked inside.

  Kara sat on the arm of the sofa. “I figure they’ve probably got you on pain meds, so we can’t do margaritas, and until the effects of anesthesia completely wear off no fancy foods, but there’s no reason we can’t do—”

  “Nail polish!” Angela held out two different bottles.

  Lexie scooted closer and pulled out a plastic bottle. “And hand cream.”

  “There’s a two-minute manicure jar. Mango.”

  Opening the jar, Angela took a quick whiff. “Oh, that smells good enough to eat.”

  “I don’t recommend consumption.” Kara reached for her handbag. “I brought polish remover, cotton balls, and nail files.” One by one she laid each item on the coffee table.

  “Where do we start?” Lexie reached for the manicure jar.

  Kara wandered off to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of warm water and two dishtowels.

  Before Angela could object, she became the center of attention. With Kara on one side and Lexie on the other, each massaged a hand with sea salts, rinsed, rubbed in lotion, then filed and polished her nails.

  “This is almost worth being out of commission for a few days.” Angela blew on her nails.

  “We should make time for a spa day every once in a while.” Kara circled her hands about with lotion.

  “Agreed.” Lexie reached for the polish labelled Georgia Peach.

  “So.” Kara chose Black Cherry. “What’s the plan now?”

  “I’m going to sleep here on the sofa tonight. Lexie can have my room.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Kara painted a nail without looking up.

  Lifting her gaze, Lexie stopped polishing her nail mid stroke. “That’s what I said!”

  Kara continued to focus on her manicure. “Diagnosis confirmed. You have endometriosis. You may only have had surgery this morning, but you’ve been mulling this over for two weeks. How do you plan to proceed?”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a lawyer?” Lexie went back to polishing her nails.

  “And a damn good one, thank you very much.” Kara twisted the cap on the bottle of polish, then turned her full attention to Angela. “The way I see it is you now have a two-year window for successful conception. You might have more. You might have less. But the first two years seems to be the most likely time frame for a positive outcome.”

  Angela nodded. She didn’t have anything to say, and she could tell by the way Kara sat with her feet tucked beneath her that she was prepared to plead her case to the jury. Even if Angela didn’t have a plan, apparently Kara did.

  “So,” Kara continued. “Your options are to find a man and proceed with your original intention of love, marriage, and children in that order. In which case we would have to step up the find-a-man efforts—”

  “We?” Lexie and Angela chorused.

  Kara cast a pointed glare at Lexie. “Yes, we. It won’t kill either of us to keep our eyes open for an eligible male with marriage and family potential and point him in Angela’s direction.”

  “Here?” Lexie raised one brow and returned Kara’s stern glare. “Compared to Kona, West Texas bustles like Manhattan. At least they have cowboys. We have surfers and hula dancers.”

  “And former military,” Kara added.

  “You have former military.” Lexie eased back onto the seat. “And we had to import him from Texas.”

  For a brief moment Angela wondered if they even remembered she was in the room or that it was her future they were discussing as though this were a board meeting on mergers and acquisitions.

  “…that just seems so cold and impersonal.” Lexie curled her shoulders in a dramatic shutter.

  “Of course it’s impersonal that’s the whole point,” Kara shot back.

  Clearly lost in her own musings, Angela had missed something. “I’m sorry, take a step back. What are we
talking about now?”

  “Artificial insemination,” Kara answered.

  Angela agreed with Lexie. Her blood actually ran cold at the thought of a baby by syringe. No man. No love. No family. Tension filled her every muscle as she resisted the urge to cringe with distaste. “No. I’m not ready to go that route. Not yet.”

  Kara bobbed her head in a short show of assent and continued. “Then we’re back to finding a man. And soon, since we’ve ruled out science to test the window of fertility. What about Dr. Shepherd? He seemed to have his eye on you at your party.”

  Angela shook her head. “That had to be your imagination.”

  “I make a living reading jurors. Trust me. In his mind, the man had you doing a striptease.”

  “He does work with kids.” Lexie waved her nails in the air. “That’s good father material.”

  Angela shook her head. “I don’t know. Let’s put him in the maybe column.”

  Slapping her hands together with enthusiasm,

  Lexie leaned forward. “If the doc isn’t ringing your bells, then I say Oahu. Much larger gene pool in Honolulu. Except for the tourists, there aren’t any other suitable local candidates over twenty-five and under one hundred here.”

  “Maybe not.” Blowing on her freshly painted nails, Kara sat back in her seat. A smug grin took over her face. “Nick’s doing the manta ray night dive tonight, and I had to stop at the shop to drop off some gear he left behind.”

  Lexie nodded.

  “Right. Well, I ran inside to leave the bag and bumped into Billy. He was coming in from observing Nick with the SASY class in the new pool.”

  “That’s right.” Lexie snapped her fingers. “Today was the first session. Did he say how it went?”

  “He didn’t have to. He had a big smile on his face. Until he saw me.”

  “You?” Angela asked.

  Kara nodded. “Seeing me reminded him of you. It took him a few minutes stumbling about, but he finally asked if I had heard how things went this morning.”

  “He did?” Lexie turned to study Angela.

  Angela ignored Lexie’s curious stare. “It’s only polite. I told him surgery was this morning. And as your boss, he knows you’re taking a few days off to help me out.”

  “Mm, maybe.” Lexie returned her attention to Kara. “So, you were saying?”

  Kara eased forward. “What about Billy?”

  Oh heavens, Angela knew where Kara was going with this. And she couldn’t do it. The man had pushed her away. Even if he did claim he wasn’t angry. He hadn’t wanted her. Friends, he had said. He only wanted her friendship. She had to deflect this train of thought. And fast. Casual. Indifferent. She could play the part. “What about him?”

  Kara waved her hands in the air and rolled her eyes. “Oh, for land sakes.” She held up her index finger. “The guy is not a surfer or a hula dancer. He owns a successful business.” With her right hand she pointed to her middle finger. “He’s great with Bradley, so he has good parent potential.” She moved on to the ring finger. “He’s easy on the eyes.”

  “Very easy,” Lexie chimed in. When Angela turned in her direction, clearly surprised at the comment, Lexie defended, “Hey, he’s my boss, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

  “You see?” Kara dropped her hands. “Enough said. I rest my case.”

  “I don’t know.” Lexie pushed to her feet and made her way to the kitchen. “I’m grabbing a bag of chips. We need thinking food.”

  Kara scooped up the empty soda glasses and followed Lexie. “What don’t you know? We’ve established he fits all the qualifications. He’s not involved with anyone—”

  “That’s just it. I haven’t seen him date anyone. I mean, except for always running off to fix something for his mom or one of her friends, I’d almost be willing to swear in court that the man never leaves his office.” With a bowl of baked potato chips in one hand and puffed cheese balls in the other, Lexie walked into the living room shaking her head. “I think there’s too much emotional baggage there.”

  “Maybe all he needs is the right woman.” Kara followed behind, gripping three glasses of soda in front of her.

  “Though a lovely sentiment, PTSD is not something a good woman can fix. If it were, all the men coming home to wives, girlfriends, and fiancées would be just fine. They’re not.”

  “You think he has Post-traumatic stress disorder?” Her brow creased with concern, Kara set the drinks gingerly on the table, careful not to spill. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Lexie grabbed a handful of cheese puffs and put the two bowls close to Angela. “I mean, he’s not crazy or anything, but there seems to be two sides to him.”

  Angela listened intently. She’d noticed the same thing. Not that she spent very much time with the quiet, reserved sailor. But recently she’d noticed glimpses of a happier, more open man than the one she’d seen working at the dive shop. Though she’d always thought him to have workaholic tendencies, now she had to wonder.

  “All I know of the Billy who joined the navy is the stories I’ve heard from his mom.” Lexie popped another puff into her mouth. “Then there are the stories Nick tells.”

  “Yeah,” Kara reached for a chip. “When Brooklyn—”

  “Brooklyn?” Angela interrupted.

  “An old navy buddy. Real name is Luke Chapman, but he’s originally from Brooklyn, so that’s how he got the moniker. You should have met him and his wife at the wedding.”

  “The former SEAL?”

  Kara nodded. “That’s the one. After the rehearsal dinner, he, Nick, and Billy told so many stories my sides ached from laughing.”

  “Doesn’t really sound like the same man, does it?” Lexie asked.

  Kara and Angela both shook their heads.

  “But PTSD?” Kara asked. “That’s not good. Could it be survivor’s guilt?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just matured. Being in a war zone can do that, too.” Lexie took a sip of her cola.

  “Losing a leg has to play games with your mind,” Angela offered. Now her friends had her thinking. For so long her focus had been on skirt-chasing Nick that she’d never given any thought to how serving his country, losing a leg, and coming home might have affected William Everrett.

  Kara held up a hand. “Okay. Let’s get back to the point at hand. First, I’ll make a few phone calls. Get some pointers on PTSD. Talk to Nick, see what he thinks.”

  “I know he’s not happy Billy doesn’t dive anymore,” Lexie said, reaching for a chip this time. “Mm.” Kara seemed to ponder that a minute before continuing. “Whatever is troubling Billy, I still think he has all the qualifications for solid husband and family man.”

  “Wait a minute.” Angela held her hand up. “Has it occurred to either of you that the man has no interest in me?”

  “Nonsense.” Lexie waved her off. “He’s simply not the sort to impose himself where he’s not wanted, and we all knew you wanted Nick.”

  The comment had Angela wanting to squirm in her seat. Especially with Kara in the room. Early on she and Kara had formed a tentative friendship that had slowly grown through Lexie and was finally cemented after their drunken giggles the night she’d made a fool of herself with Billy, but even so, any mention of her stupid crush made her damned uncomfortable.

  “Can’t blame a girl for having good taste.” Kara laughed and reached over to pat Angela on the knee. “The question is how do we get Billy to notice you now? And quickly.”

  “But I don’t want—”

  “If we could get her to stop dressing like a nun that might be a good start,” Lexie offered.

  “I don’t dress—”

  “Agreed.” Kara nodded. “As soon as she’s up to it, a shopping day is in order.”

  “She,” Angela almost shouted, “Is right here. And she does not dress like a nun. Nor does she want to go after a man who has no interest in her.”

  “No interest?” Kara’s mouth hung open momentarily. “Did you not hear me
? The man stumbled about to inquire how you were doing?

  Men don’t put themselves in awkward situations to ask about someone unless they’re invested. And since there’s no promise of a quick hookup, I’d say there’s genuine interest involved.”

  “Or he’s just being nice,” Angela tossed back.

  “Yes!” Kara stood. “That’s the point here. He’s nice. And smart. And kind. And thoughtful. And grounded. And—”

  “Stop!” If her ribs could handle it, she would have sprung up from the sofa and gotten herself a glass of wine. Maybe the bottle. Kara was right. He was all those things. Now that Angela wasn’t focused on Nick, she’d have to be blind and stupid not to have noticed the sweet side of Billy Everrett. But the man didn’t want her. And no new wardrobe would change that.

  Chapter Eight

  “Jonathon! Where the hell are the rosters for tomorrow morning’s dive?” Billy’s voice boomed from his office doorway. From where he stood, Billy could see the kid lifting every pad, paper, and stray object within an arm’s length of the register. “Today would be nice.”

  “I know it’s here somewhere.” Flustered, Jonathan spun about and lifted the same books and papers he’d lifted seconds before. After all, if it wasn’t there five minutes ago, surely the roster would be there now!

  “Why don’t you go back into hibernation?” Coming from the warehouse, Nick walked past Billy and, tossing his keys on the desk, took a seat. “What exactly do you need? A drink? A dive? A good lay? Because I’m ready to kick your ass out this door until you scratch whatever itch has you barking like a rabid pit bull.”

  “I need the damn roster!” Billy stomped across the room to his desk, picked up a stack of pages and waved them at his partner. “How the hell am I supposed to set up without any damn idea of how many people have signed on?”

  Fingers steepled, Nick dropped his hands on his stomach and said nothing.

  “If you think running this office is so damn easy, you do the prep work for tomorrow.” Without so much as a blink of acknowledgement, Nick leaned back and propped his feet on the desk.