“I wouldn’t count on any of that. That woman is your girlfriend-to-be.” She leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “Just a heads-up, dear. I’m pretty sure she knows the ‘work meeting’ is a load of horse apples.”
Then she pats my hand and goes off to view the waterfall.
16
Skyler
“Welcome to the Coconut Café.” The hostess smiles at me from near the restaurant door. “How many in your party?”
After a year, you’d think I’d be used to this, but it stings a little more today than it should. “This is my party. Party of one. Happy to dine alone.”
The young woman’s smile widens just a tad. “Wonderful. Would you like a table outside? There’s a fantastic view of the water.”
“Sounds perfect.”
One last night to enjoy the ocean vista.
The hostess leads me to a table on the patio, offering me the menu. “A server will be by shortly. Enjoy!”
What’s not to enjoy? There’s a breeze and a view and tropical scents in the air.
The server appears beside the table. “Hey there. Can I get you anything while you wait for your—”
“My phone,” I say, cutting him off with a smile. “I’m having dinner with my phone.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. My apologies.”
I wave them away. “It’s fine. Truly.” I came here on a single-versary. One last night having dinner for one is more than fine—it’s good.
Yup. I am all good.
“Would you like a Coconut Mai Tai? It’s quite excellent with the edamame appetizer.”
“Why not?” I’m just living on the edge tonight. “When in Rome, as they say.”
He thanks me for my order and leaves, and I take out my phone and open a text.
Skyler: Hey. Want to have appetizers with me?
* * *
Katie: How sweet of you to ask. How were the sea turtles?
* * *
Skyler: We saw waterfalls instead. Look.
I share the pictures I took this morning, which she exclaims over in unironic emojis. As my drink and appetizer arrive, I snap a selfie holding the mai tai. A year ago, I would have thought that was sad or brave, but now, holding up my phone while I toast myself amid the tables full of couples and friends, I feel good. This is me.
Katie: Beautiful. *chef’s kiss*
* * *
Skyler: Thanks. I’ve really enjoyed my adventure. Even the surfing. Shhh, don’t tell anyone, but I might try it again.
* * *
Katie: Aha! I knew it. So, was it the bikini? Was it magic?
* * *
Skyler: I think I was just ready for a change.
* * *
Katie: I’m not surprised. Do you feel any different?
* * *
Skyler: I do. I never would have tried some of these things before. I wouldn’t want to LIVE on an island. But I’m glad I came here . . . even if the tropical tryst didn’t last. It lasted exactly long enough.
* * *
Katie: Seems to me like you’ve been getting out of your comfort zone for a whole year. You focused on you. You poured your energy into your business and your friendships and health. This trip wasn’t to prove anything, but to celebrate all that.
* * *
Skyler: You know, I think you’re right. And when I see Caleb tomorrow, I’m going to say thanks and move on.
The waiter approaches me and my electronic date deferentially and asks, “Was everything to your liking?”
I nod, thinking beyond the meal to what’s ahead. “Thanks. Everything was exactly what I wanted. And what I needed.”
17
Caleb
“Whoa. You look like hell,” Brady comments from the doorway as I slump in my chair.
“Thanks,” I grumble. “I didn’t sleep much.”
“No shit.” He approaches with exaggerated caution and puts a cup of coffee in front of me. “What’s on your mind?”
“I fucked up everything yesterday.” At his panicked look, I clarify, “With Skyler.”
“Awkward.”
“No shit,” I echo.
“Listen, mixing work with pleasure is never easy. Let me cover for you. Get some rest. Go sleep in a hammock or read a book on the porch.”
It’s tempting. I don’t want to avoid Skyler. I want to avoid seeing her hide her hurt with distance.
“I should do the final day.”
“Nope. Overruled.” He grabs his tablet and checks the tour’s details, then pauses to look at me full-on. “And listen. Maybe have a longer think about this woman and your rules. Maybe she is worth breaking them for.”
I stare at him agape. “You’re a sleep-deprivation illusion, aren’t you? Where is yesterday’s Brady?”
“Right here.” He fusses with the screen some more. “I still think mixing business with pleasure is a bad idea. But I’m not you. And you want to know the best thing about owning your own business?”
“Surf breaks at noon?” I ask, but my voice doesn’t hold its usual enthusiasm.
“No,” Brady replies. “It’s that you get to make the rules, and you get to change them if they no longer suit.”
Change the rules?
Change them so dating a customer . . . might indeed work?