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“I think the two of you have some things to talk about. See you at the ceremony.” Akoni hums to himself as he walks away.
And now… we’re alone on the pink-tinted walkway.
Early morning sunshine slices sideways through gaps in the palm and coconut trees. The light has a warm, golden hue.
Rays of light wash over Jack's chiseled features. He’s in his orange and green Hawaiian shirt, the same one he wore the first time I saw him in the resort lobby.
That morning, I couldn’t look away from him.
The same thing is happening now. My eyes linger on his, but my vision is blurred.
I blink away tears and try to gather myself. “Flowers…?”
He hands me the bouquet, and I burrow my nose into the closest blossom. The perfumed petals smell heavenly.
It’s nice to hold the bouquet, but I really want to wrap my arms around Jack.
When I free my nose from the fuchsia blossom, I give him a wobbly smile. “Jack… wow.”
I’m really talking about him showing up here.
It’s unbelievable to me that we’re both standing on this walkway.
But he must think I’m still talking about the bouquet.
“I thought maybe it was in order,” he says. “I—I screwed up, I think. Day one… I let it fall apart.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t mess up. I did. I saw her on Skype, and I freaked out, and?—”
“Who, Jess? Wait… you mean when we talked to the lawyer?”
“Yeah.” I reach up to wipe my eyes. “That probably sounds so stupid, but it totally freaked me out.”
He’s here.
In Hawaii.
He’s not getting back together with Jess because he’s here with flowers for me.
This is good, right?
It has to be good.
If my brain worked a little better, I’d think it through and decide. Right now, I can’t think, though.
“I don’t know,” I stammer. “I felt insecure, and?—”
“You do not have to feel insecure, Hazel. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You know that, right? It’s me who should be feeling insecure. You probably don’t want to be with a guy who got fired twice for kickboxing recycling on the clock.”
A giggle scrunches my cheeks, even as a few more wet tears slide down. “No way. That’s a feather in your cap. Maybe two feathers.”
“Or a reason to stay far, far away from a guy like me. You should find a guy who reads the New York Times. Owns a couple of suits or something. Has a library card. I don’t know. Don’t date a guy who’s jumped flaming barrels and a monster truck on his bike.”
“A daredevil,” I murmur, ridiculously happy.
He’s here, in Honolulu.
We’re here together. How is this happening?
