“This is just wild.” I shake my head, the restaurant coming into view as promised. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I’m sorry.” He said it once already on the boat, but this time there’s a heaviness in his voice that really hits home. Maybe it hurt him just as much as it hurt me when he left.
“It’s the past. We have a whole week ahead of us to get to know each other again and enjoy our vacation.”
He pauses, his eyes lingering on me for a few seconds, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Yeah, we do,” he agrees.
Flynn pulls the door open and waves me inside. We’re greeted by a waif-ish, cute waiter with a smile that I’m sure has brought countless men to their knees. His pretty blue eyes twinkle as he greets us.
“Welcome to the island. Just the two of you?” he asks, grabbing a couple of menus.
“Just us.” I glance down and notice his nametag says Hennessy, right before he turns to lead us to a table. The restaurant is busy, and we have to weave between tables to get to an empty one near the back. I look around at all the couples eating and wonder if they came together or if they’re vacation flings, set to run their course by the time both parties head back to wherever they came from.
“I’m Hennessy. I’ll be your waiter tonight,” he says in a polite, professional tone.
“Is that your real name?” I’m not sure why, but I’m curious. “There’s no way every person who works or lives here has such interesting names.”
“I’m not allowed to tell tourists all of our island secrets,” he answers with a smirk. “What Icando is get you one of our island specialties to drink if you’re feeling adventurous.”
“Sure, why the hell not,” I agree, and Flynn nods as well.
“Great, I’ll be right back with those.” He flits away, and we both turn our attention to our menus.
I try hard to concentrate on the options laid out in front of me, but it’s damn hard to keep from looking across the table at Flynn, wondering what he’s been up to all these years, where he ended up going to college. Did he go at all? When did he realize he was gay? What was his first boyfriend like? Does he still chew that cinnamon gum? Is he hiding any other piercings under his clothes? There are amillion things I want to know, and there’s no way a week will be enough for it all.
He toys with his lip ring between his teeth, glancing up from his menu and catching my eyes across the table.
“What?” he asks again with a grin.
What?Oh, nothing, just wondering about the entirety of your existence for the last fifteen years. Where to even start?
“Where do you live now?” I ask because it seems like as good a place to start as any.
“Long Island. You?”
My heart jolts and my hands jerk out of sheer excitement, nearly causing me to knock my glass of water over with my menu. Just like when we were kids, Flynn’s reflexes are lightning-fast. He catches the water glass, setting it right before a single drop spills, and then quirks an eyebrow at me.
“Manhattan,” I answer.
What are the odds? We were probably on the same flight out here.
Hennessy returns with our drinks, and we both place our orders. I’m not even sure what I ask for. I just point to the first thing on the second page and then hand the menu over. I’m too busy caught in a whirlwind of emotion, trying to convince myself not to let my excitement or the sheer improbabilityof it all get to me.
“Who’s the old guy?” Flynn asks Hennessey, nodding toward the picture hanging on the wall.
“That’s Harold Tellinson. He owned the island and founded the town. He basically built everything you see here from the ground up with the help of his partner, George,” our waiter explains. “He was an absolute hopeless romantic. It’s why he wanted to create a place like this.”
I snort into my drink, wondering what a hopeless romantic would think of his dream turning into a giant orgy.
Hennessy must catch onto my train of thought because he just smiles and shakes his head. “He wasn’t a prude either, don’t worry. He believed in soulmates and true love, though, and was always setting people up when he could.” He gets a wistful smile on his lips. “You know, they say his spirit still hangs around the island, finding love for tourists and locals alike whenever he can.”
He slips away to put our order in after that, leaving Flynn and I sharing an amused look. “I’m trying to figure out if that’s supposed to be part of the charm of this place or what,” he confesses.
“The legend of old man Tellinson or how quirky all the locals seem to be?”
“Both,” he says.
“It’s kind of fun. I expected this to just be agiant fuck-fest, but there’s a certain kind of…je ne sais quoiabout it here.”
