Oh my God, I just had a horrible thought. What if you’re kidnapped? Are you kidnapped?
Just realized if you are kidnapped, you won’t be able to respond. Shit. What do I do? You’re the person I talk out emergencies with. Please be okay. Please call me or text me ASAP.
Two Hours Later
Vivian
I’m going to keep writing to update you, just in case you somehow get these messages. Just had a thought. Did you mean to write super sketchy pilot in a tiny, sexy plane? Not sure if that’s possible, but it would sort of make sense with the whole kidnapping angle.
Spoke with the San Felipe police. The woman on the phone suggested that if it was a kidnapping (which she highly doubts) that I could’ve been texting with the kidnapper. But if that was the case, wouldn’t he continue writing me back to prevent a search? Either way, they’re not going to look for you. They said you’d have to be missing for over 72 hours. I thought that seemed insane but she said on a beautiful island like theirs, people disappear all the time on purpose, so when it used to be 48 hours, they wasted thousands of taxpayers’ dollars searching for people who just decided to go up the mountain to camp or took an overnight trip on a sailboat. But believe me, I’ll be on their asses the second that the 72 hours from your last text is up.
And Now, Back to Our Heroine…
I wake with a smile on my face and a feeling of being utterly satisfied. Must be because I wasn’t woken by a call from Guy for the first time in over six years. I let out a happy sigh before it all hits me in one big wallop. The storm, the crash, the being stranded with a stranger. My stomach churns, and I’m overcome by an urgent need to get to Tiffany so I can explain. But I can’t do that. Not from here. Not right now. Eventually she’ll know the truth, but in the meantime, it kills me to know she’s somewhere assuming I didn’t care enough to show up for her big day. I am one-hundred-percent sure my family thinks I was lying, and that I never left New York. I should’ve sent photos along the way, documenting my trip, but it’s not as if I could’ve guessed that I’d be in a plane crash. The reality hits me again. I have no idea how close we came to dying, on account of being passed out by the time we actually hit the beach, but I feel certain it was so close, you could safely call it a ‘brush with death,’ which sounds so dramatic, no? If we ever get out of here, I can just picture myself telling anyone who will listen to my story about ‘the time I had a brush with death. I was in a plane that went down.’
Wow. I almost died, which has never happened to me before. Well, except anytime I’ve stepped out in front of a cab on 5th Avenue. That’s a ‘taking your life in your own hands’ situation because Will Ferrell was right when he said the yellow ones don’t stop.
I open my eyes, only to have them involuntarily close again. Good lord, it’s bright in here. And so, so hot. Someone turn down the sun. Speaking of hot, my mind leaps to Mac. Mac, who may not be who I thought he was. He’s not just some arrogant grump. He’s also got a softer side—feeding me a protein bar and making a bed for meso I could nap. He’s an outdoorsy guy who can make a fire, catch a fish, and cook it up to perfection. He’s the chivalrous man who gives up his bed for a woman who he barely knows. He’s all wrong for me, but there’s also something about him that just feels right. And it’s not just his body. It’s something else entirely.
I turn to face him, hoping to get a glimpse of him sleeping, perhaps shirtless on account of the heat.
Huh. He’s not there.
Standing up, I look out the window, expecting to see him nearby, but he’s not there either. I manage to wrangle myself into my bra without taking off my shirt. I’m still in yesterday’s outfit, but there’s no sense in changing into something fresh until I’ve had a chance to clean myself up. I slide my feet into my flip flops, then open the plane door and go outside to look for him. I walk up and down the beach, calling his name, but there’s no sign of him anywhere.
“Well, this is just great. He left me here.” I put my hands on my hips, panic starting to rise in my chest. Where would he have gone? What if he walked to the other side of the island and found a resort or something and decided to leave me behind? He could be sipping some fruity, boozy drink right now while I’m sweat-panicking. Without him, I have nothing to eat. I’m depending on him foreverything, which is never advisable.Why didn’t I go to Girl Scouts as a child? Stupid Paige. Stupid.
Now I have to rely on a stranger—one who seems to have disappeared into thin air. Suddenly it occurs to me that I haven’t even tried to see if I can get a signal on my cell phone. I hurry back to the plane and grab it. It’s almost dead, and none of the bars are lit up, so I hold it up and walk along the beach, searching for higher ground. IfI can get a signal, I’ll call 911, and they can trace my location.
Okay, this is good. I’ll be okay. Turns out I do know a thing or two about surviving.“Come on, come on…”
I climb the biggest rock I can find and hold my phone up, but get nothing. Not even one bar. I’m stuck here. I’m completely alone in this world. Not one person other than Mac knows where I am, and he’s gone. Desperation rushes through me like the tide crashing against the sand.
“Okay, calm down, Paige. The Mac you got to know yesterday would never leave you behind. You have to trust him. He must have a good reason for being gone. Maybe he found help, and he’ll be right back on a boat or in a helicopter to get you and take you to Azure Island.”
Am I seriously talking to myself already?Dear Lord, it’s going to take me about another two minutes before I draw a face on a coconut and name him Coco. Or Nutty. Nah, those are both crap names. I’ll have to come up with something better. Ornothingbecause drawing a face on a coconut would truly be the final nail in the coffin containing my sanity, wouldn’t it?
I find a shady spot under a palm tree and sit down, watching the white swells of water roll in while I wait. Mac’ll be here soon. He’ll come back. He’s not the type of man who would leave a woman to die. I hope…
It’s not long before I see him coming through the trees, his arms loaded with a greenish yellow fruit. “Good morning,” he says as he makes his way across the sandy beach to me. “How’d you sleep?”
Oh, thank God! I spring to my feet, wanting to kiss him on his gorgeous mouth, just for coming back. I hurry toward him, telling myself that I absolutely cannot kiss him. “Surprisingly well. How about you? Did you get any rest?”
“Can’t complain,” he says, even though I’m sure most people would do exactly that. “We’re in luck. I found some star fruit.”
I reach out and take a couple of them from him to lighten the load a bit as we walk back to the plane. “The breakfast of champions.”
“It’ll give us some quick energy,” he says. “And we’re going to need it.”
My mind goes directly into the gutter, imagining all the ways we could use up the energy together, but then he says, “We’re going to head up the mountain.”
I stop and look up, my stomach dropping. “We are?”
He nods, looking excited. “I was doing some rough calculations when I got up. I can’t be sure but we might be on Valdez Island.”
“Would that be a good thing?”
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing. It’s right next to Solisqui, which has a big marine research facility on it. If that’s the case, it would be directly on the opposite side of the island. We climb up and over, and if all goes well, we’ll be able to signal someone.”
