I turn back and see her lying on her side, facing away from me. I hope she’s asleep and not just lying there crying. She turns onto her back and her face tilts in my direction. Yup, she’s sleeping. I watch her for a moment.Now, that’s a face I could get used to waking up with every morning.Okay, I seriously must have a concussionbecause Ineverlet thoughts like that pop into my mind. I stare for another second, feeling a boulder of worry fill my gut, knowing I’m going to be the difference between life and death for her.Why did I turn around and go back for her? Why didn’t I just go home? If I had, she’d be safely in a hotel by now in San Felipe and I’d be at home.
But I didn’t do that. I went against my better judgment and now look where we are, stranded God knows where together. She was right when she called me Mr. Gambles-Both-Our-Lives because that’s exactly what I did. I took the risk, and all for a lousy eight hundred bucks, proving to myself once again that I am my father’s son. Irresponsible.
Shit.I’ve got to get us out of here. At least if I could get out and survey the damage to the plane, I’d have a better idea of what we’re facing. I glance out the window, trying to see if there’s a break in the clouds, but there isn’t one. There is literally nothing I can do about any of it.
The sound of the rain soon causes my eyelids to grow heavy. I close my eyes and let myself drift off to sleep, managing to get in that nap I wanted earlier. When I wake, the storm has passed, and the sun is shining again. It’s low in the sky, which means it must be close to dinner time. I sit up and rub my eyes a little. Paige stirs, then turns over and starts snoring. Wow, that’s a loud sound from such a small person.
Getting up, I try to be as quiet as possible as I open the door and step out onto the sand. I stand in the late-day heat and sigh as I get my first look at the damage to Tweety. The pontoons are totally shot. I knew as soon as we crashed, but I was holding out a shred of hope anyway. Son of a bitch.
I look around me—this side of the island is just a white sand beach that leads to a mountain covered in dense jungle. I’ve explored enough of these cays to know there won’t be any predatory animals here, only birds and insects. If we’re lucky, there will be a small lake and maybe a waterfall in case we run out of bottled water before we’re found.
Great fucking job, Mac. Getting yourself and some city slicker stranded out here. Sighing, I get my flare gun, my fishing gear, and my picnic pack out of the cargo hold, and set myself up on a big rock next to the sea. I cast out wide, keeping a look out for a plane or boat that won’t be coming. It takes me almost until sundown to catch a decent-sized snapper. By the time I build a fire and get it cooking, I hear a sound from inside Tweety. “Mr. Gamble?!”
I jump up and jog over to the plane. “I’m here.”
Paige looks down at me and lets out a relieved sigh. Her face is streaked with black makeup. “I thought maybe you left me.”
“No, just making a little dinner,” I say. “Come on out when you’re ready to eat.”
“I should change out of this dress. I just don’t want to get it dirty, in case…” Her voice trails off.
“In case they waited for you.” I feel a pang for what she’s missed out on, and I’m suddenly desperate to make things better for her somehow.
She stops and turns to me. “Stupid, right?”
“No,” I say, giving her a small smile. “It’s always good to hold on to hope. I’ll get your luggage.”
I hurry to the cargo hold and get her suitcase, then heave it into the plane. “There you go, Ms. Low-Maintenance.”
My attempt at humor lands with a thud. She glares at me as she grabs the handle of her suitcase. “Ha. Ha.”
“Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Good one.”
“I’ll go check on dinner.” With that, I walk back over to the campfire, leaving her to scowl at my back.
When Paige finally comes out, she’s dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt. She’s still got that orange hue going and her black eyeliner is smudged all over her face, and yet … she’s still cute.
She sits on the driftwood log next to me and clears her throat. “You have plates and cups?”
“I make it a habit to fly with everything I need.” I hand her a plate with a pile of flaky, white fish on it. “I hope you’re not a vegan because we’re going to be eating a lot of fish.”
“I’m not. This looks delicious, thank you, Mr. Gamble.” She picks up a piece with her fingers before I have a chance to hand her a fork. “Shit! That’s hot.”
I hold a fork up to her, and she takes it, her cheeks coloring a bit, bringing out her green eyes. “Oh, I thought we were going fullSurvivor.”
Chuckling, I hand her a bottle of water. “I try to keep things civilized, even when I’m stranded.”
“Stranded.” Her voice wavers.
Oh, crap. Now she’s going to start crying again. “Notstranded. Just … staying here for a little while. Wherever this is … we’ll be found soon. Don’t worry.”
“How do you know that?”
“Come on, a girl like you? You must have a dozen men who’ll scour the earth for you.”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffs. “I’m every man’s dream.”
