“Karyn, baby. Karyn.”
He opened every door, looked in every direction before plopping down on the couch in defeat.
“Sir, we are very sorry for your loss. We do need you to follow us to the station to answer a few questions and identify her body.”
“Okay, I need to get dressed and make some calls.” He looked despondent. I was worried about him for a second. I didn’t fuckwith Karyn, but I wasn’t inhumane. This was so crazy, Dateline shit.
The authorities gave their condolences, explained the process, and left their information.
They were gone in ten minutes.
My father and I stood at the villa entrance in the early morning quiet. The ocean moved behind us, indifferent and eternal.
He turned to look at me. His eyes were clear, and the look of shock and sadness was gone. Amusement.
“What the fuck is funny, pops?” asked in a hushed tone in case someone was listening.
“Congratulations on your union, take care of my daughter-in-law,” he said. “I gotta go do what needs to be done. I’ll see you when you make it home.”
I held his gaze as he tipped his head my way.
“One less fox in the hen house?”
He straightened his collar. “Handle your wife, son.”
I nodded, shook his hand, and hugged him before he headed back inside to pack.
I made it back to the villa and found Coco sitting up in bed, sheet pooled at her waist, hair loose, reading my face the way she'd learned to read it.
“What happened?”
I sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “Karyn. They found her this morning at the base of the cliff walk. She must have gone out last night.” I paused. “She’s gone, Co.”
Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, my God.” Her eyes filled immediately, the way Coco’s eyes filled before her composure could catch up. “Lesley, what?”
“I know.”
“Your father, how’s he doing? Oh my god. How?”
“He's handling it. Flying back today.”
She looked at me for a long moment. I kept it still and gave her nothing to find. She reached up and touched my jaw the way she always did when she wanted to soothe me.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly.
“Yeah.” I turned my face into her palm for just a second. “I’m good.”
She pulled me into her and held on, her arms around my neck, her chin on my shoulder. I let her hold me and looked out at the ocean through the open terrace doors, gray and vast and already moving on.
“Are we going home?”
“No, this trip was about you, and that remains.”
Final Day in Paradise
I woke up to the sound of soft humming and the smell of butter hitting a hot pan. For a second, I forgot where I was—then it all came rushing back. The wedding. The look on her face when she saw her friends. The way she’d cried during our vows, real tears this time, not the polite ones from our courthouse ceremony.
My wife. My real wife now.
