‘Sorry, it kind of got ingrained in me after living with Mai.’
‘I’ll forgive you this once, Lily. But no, Lucy, what Khalil and I have is not a situationship!’
‘Ah.’ Lucy holds up a finger. ‘Friends with benefits! A snuggle buddy!’
‘You, my dear, are getting dangerously close to swimming with the fishes.’
Lucy cackles. ‘Oh, I hope so. I’d love my death to be something grand, theatrical. A Mafia hit. I mean, it’s legendary, isn’t it?’
The three Lucys chat about what kind of deaths they hope for and how if it’s something mundane, they’re going to ask for a do over.
‘How?’ Doris says. ‘How is that even possible?’
‘Don’t you start, Doris,’ Lucy Lou says. ‘Or I will come back and haunt you.’
‘Pfft.’
Mrs Bastille and Brian join us, hugging and canoodling like newlyweds do. ‘What have we missed while we were off getting our photos?’ Brian asks.
‘Ah…’ I struggle to think of a response.
Lily jumps in. ‘We’re talking about love, and how it seems to be the season for it.’
It’s true, it does seem to be the summer of love in these parts.
‘I’ve got a bit of a confession to make,’ Brian says, cheeks blushing furiously. ‘Harper, I’m sorry to have lied to you, but there is no Darry. Or in fact Barry. That was all me.’
I refrain from saying duh while everyone shoots him confused looks.
‘You see, I wanted to learn about… love, and Harper took it upon herself to teach me how to express my feelings by reading romance novels, which led me to this day, the happiest day of my life, marrying Mrs Bastille.’ OK, the name is staying. ‘I just wanted to thank you for your hand in making this old fella become a bit more of a heart-on-sleeve type.’
‘Romance books for the win!’ Lily says with a laugh.
‘They are the gold standard,’ I admit.
Mrs Bastille leans in and whispers, ‘You can give him the spicy ones now. He’s ready.’ And I blush to the roots of my hair.
‘Umm, OK.’
‘Look at them.’ Lucy’s eyes grow moist as she points to a couple sitting under the shade of a palm tree, heads together, eyes shining with… hope. Because there is hope. A last chance that changed shape and became hope. Gus and his wife sit, whispering sweet nothings, their eyes bright. We lapse into silence as we watch them from afar, grateful as ever that their love story gets to continue.
Xavier returns, hands me a glass of champagne and wraps an arm around my waist. He senses the direction of our gaze, our thoughtful contemplation. ‘Isn’t that the best gift of all? The promise of time?’
‘The best.’ I stand on tiptoes and gaze into his soulful eyes. This man who would move mountains for me, if I asked, but who also just listens to me rant and rave and understands when I butt into other people’s problems that it’s just my way, and it’s easier to support me when it backfires, or celebrate with me when it doesn’t. He’s also given me free rein in the bookshop, which is thriving. Gus is back part-time and we’re having fun putting our heads together to come up with various ways to get bookworms in the door. We host literary salons every Tuesday, which are popular with guests who aren’t used to being subjected to Gus-isms and are always delighted by his unusual literary ponderings. It’s a memorable experience that guests can take home with them, and that’s what it’s all about, as we all try our hardest to put the Last Chance Resort on the map; well, over the summer season. I must admit, there is a real joy when it quietens down over the low season and we take a breath and enjoy what we have with less people on our island. I’m part of the fabric of this place now, as if I’ve always been here. Like I found my way home.
The resort renovations are now complete, and Xavier tells me we’re almost at capacity for the rest of the summer season.
Soon everyone disperses, to get changed into more casual clothes for a Creole BBQ dinner, because Mrs Bastille insisted everyone from the resort be invited to share their wedding feast. ‘I’ll meet you a bit later, yeah?’ Lily says as she’s dragged off by Lucy.
‘Sure,’ I say as the sun slips away for the day.
Mrs Bastille says, ‘Love is in the air.’ And gives me a wink before she wanders away with her husband.
Xavier takes my hand, leading me down the beach, towards the bookshop. He pulls me in tight and leans down to kiss me, the feeling just as intense as it was a year ago. More, maybe. Definitely more. When we break apart, my heart skitters, for this life we now share, this man who truly makes my heart sing. A man who has settled into himself and dropped the mask he once wore to hide the fact he was full of uncertainty about just how to save his island home.
‘We’re being followed.’ I point down at Turt. ‘Should we escort him back to the bookshop? He probably wants some peace and quiet after the excitement of the day.’
Turt shuffles along behind us as we make our way to the bookshop. He doesn’t really need to be escorted but any excuse will do to hang out on a day bed with Xavier and a glass of bubbles and his body next to mine.
