I look down at Caleb’s feet and realize I’ve missed a very crucial detail. He’s wearing hiking boots.
Not again…
“Our fearless Captain is playing tour guide today,” Arthur announces, his voice stuffy from the copious amounts of gin he consumed at last night’s dinner. “Making sure no one gets lost in the forest.”
“Fantastic,” I say cheerfully. Should I be scared that I’m getting so good at faking emotions? So much for staying out of each other’s way. Caleb, on the other hand, looks totally unbothered. Maybe last night reallydidn’tmean anything for him. Maybe he does this kind of thing so often that acting normal after a near conquest is old hat.
It’s ok, I tell myself—forty-eight hours ago I hated his guts. All I have to do is try my best to remember that feeling, and I’ll be golden. But something about the electricity that zings up my arm as his hand accidentally brushes mine tells me that’s easier said than done.
The Mamanuca Resort is stunning: it’s a private hideaway, Harry informs me, for celebs and the ultra-rich (or as he says, “extra well-off”). Gentle music that may or may not be played by a mandolinist hiding behind one of the shrubs greets us as we reach a set of hand carved wooden doors as tall as some of the island’s palm trees. Palm fans waft the smells of frangipani and ginger around the covered entrance and a small man with a curly, white beard (and by small, I mean the only Fijian man I’ve seen who’s under six feet) guides us past a quiet salt water infinity pool to a breezy outdoor lobby walled in by orchid-covered trees. Casual. Standing in the center amongst a few ridiculously elegant honeymooners is a round woman withwiry-grey hair wrapped in a shimmering orange Sari-style dress.
As soon as she sees us, she gleefully opens her arms.
“Caleb!”
“Tracy!”
Caleb’s face lights up in recognition as he jogs over to her. It’s the most genuine smile I’ve seen on Caleb since I met him. He wraps the older woman into a huge hug, lifting her off the ground until she giggles and swats at his shoulder.
At the lagoon, Caleb said he had a friend on this island. I just wasn’t expecting someone old enough to be his mother.
“Put me down, you scoundrel,” Tracy insists through her laughter. “I’ll throw out my back!”
“A spring chicken like you?” he asks as he sets her back on the ground. “Impossible.”
“Arthur Warren,” Arthur extends his arm in greeting, but Patricia smacks it away.
“Honestly, Arthur,” she scolds before turning back to Caleb’s friend. “Can’t remember a face to save his life. It’s nice to see you again, Tracy.”
Patricia leans in to give Tracy one of her modified air kisses.
“Tracy,” Caleb says, “I’d like you to meet Harry’s fiancée, Jules, and her sister Stella. This is my godmother, Tracy Watanabe.”
Ofcourse.Caleb told me his godmother lived in Fiji when we were looking for Patricia. I just wasn’t expecting to be visiting her.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” she clasps my hand in hers. “It’s always such a pleasure to have friends of Caleb visit! I see him so rarely these days.”
Even with her hand on mine, Caleb’s arm is still around Tracy protectively, holding her close like she might blow away. I inexplicably ache for him to put those same arms aroundme, and I have to distract myself by looking over at the tangle of exotic orchids that curl around the lobby’s wooden columns.
“Please make yourselves at home while you’re on the island,” she tells us. “We’ve set up loungers for you by the pool.”
“Trace,” Caleb says, “a few of the Warrens want to fit in a hike before lunch. Can you show them the trailhead?”
“You’re not coming?” I blurt out, and he blinks at me.
“Bad ankle,” he says coolly, the lie coming to him so quickly nobody questions my awkward outburst.
“Happy to!” Tracy ushers us towards the other side of the restaurant and points to a neat stack of white stones and a break between palms. “The trail is just through that grove. But I wouldn’t linger too long—looks like it’s going to rain today.”
I look up at the sky—the same perfect, cerulean blue it’s been all week. What weather report has she been reading?
“Got it,” Harry says, taking the lead. “Hope you’re all ready for some speed-trekking!”
“Mom and I are going to sit this one out,” Matthew informs us. Somehow in the last thirty seconds, he’s procured a powerful looking cocktail with a pineapple frond sticking out from the top. “Get in some bonding time.”
“I can assure you, the only thing Matthew will be bonding with is his phone,” Patricia corrects him. “Steven, care to join us?”
“I’ll show you to the pool,” Caleb tells them, and I feel a pang of jealousy. Of course he doesn’t want to come with me. I totally rejected him last night after he borderline risked his job to sneak me out to the lagoon. I’ll be lucky if he says another word to me this whole trip. Which is exactly what I wanted.
