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Akoni looks over my right shoulder. “Your man?”
I’m sure he means Jack. When I was here before, Jack and I always walked these paths together.
“Oh, he’s in Utah,” I say. I lift my chin and brace my shoulders. Because what I have to say next might throw me for a loop. “We actually split up, sort of. But I’m going to call him today. Maybe after the ceremony, if I can get my nerve up.”
I’m hoping that Akoni might give me some encouragement to prod me on my way, when it comes to making the call.
“I don’t love talking on the phone,” I admit. “I’m thinking about calling him on Skype, but our last call on that platform was pretty terrible.”
I wait for the expected niceties and kindness. This lovely elderly man is genuinely kind. His compassion sparkles in his eyes and overflows in the things he says and does. Surely, he’s going to wish me luck.
He chuckles to himself.
What’s this?
Why is he laughing at me?
Does he think it’s a silly mistake—me calling Jack? Does he think it laughable that we split? ‘Oh, you tourists and your flings…’
Or is he finding humor in my mention of the awful Skype call? To be fair, in some ways, it was humorous, in a tragic-comedy kind of way.
I wait for Akoni to reveal the joke to me.
Instead of explaining himself, he looks past me again. He raises his voice. “If you startle her, she might jump so high she lands over the fence!” His laughter bubbles up merrily again.
I spin on my flip-flop to see who he’s talking to.
And—goodness gracious! —a man’s two feet away from me. I see broad shoulders and a flowy, bright Hawaiian shirt.
Instinct takes over.
My breath whooshes out of my lungs, and my palm flies to my chest. I clutch at the hemline of my tank top and try to catch my breath.
Then, I lift my eyes.
Jack.
I’m looking at Jack.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I murmur, though it’s incredibly hard to speak.
His smile is dazzling, framed by those two dimples. His hair’s shaggier than the last time I saw him.
He has one arm behind his back.
“Akoni, my man!” he says. “Good thing you warned me. She would have toppled.” Then he brings his hand out from behind his back.
A beautiful bouquet of tropical flowers rustles in the paper and plastic packaging.
I won’t cry.
There’s too much to be said. Amends to be made, emotions to reveal. I need my wits about me, and tears won’t do. But—flowers?
He’s here, in Hawaii, which is a surprise to end all surprises. The fact that he arrived at this resort with a bouquet makes tears spring into my eyes, though I try to fend them off. My lip wobbles, and I lose it.
“Now, this guy is organized,” Akoni says as he approaches Jack and pats his arm. “You stopped at the market; I see. Nice flower department, eh?”
“Stellar,” Jack agrees.
