They found a table in the corner, away from the worst of the crowd. Vic had attached himself to Gerald, the bird-watcher in the Hawaiian shirt, and the two of them were deep in conversation about something—Vic gesturing wildly, Gerald nodding along with patient interest.
“He’s going to be okay,” Dakota said, following her gaze. “Vic. Gerald’s got him.”
“Gerald has the patience of a saint.”
“Bird-watching will do that. You learn to wait.”
A server appeared with menus—handwritten, limited options. Jayden ordered the fish. Dakota ordered the same. They asked for wine and received a bottle of something local.
The power flickered. Once. Twice. The string lights swayed.
“Think we’ll lose electricity?” Jayden asked.
“Probably. Tropical storm plus aging infrastructure.” Dakota poured the wine. “Generator will kick in if it gets bad.”
“You’ve done this before.”
“A few times.” He handed her a glass. “The worst was a hurricane in the Bahamas. We lost power for three days. No air-conditioning, no refrigeration. I survived on room-temperature beer and crackers.”
“That sounds miserable.”
“It wasn’t great.” He smiled. “But the sunsets were incredible. Something about the light shining through the storm. Made everything glow.”
She could picture it. Him standing on a beach, watching the sky turn colors, calm in the middle of chaos.
“What about you?” he asked. “Worst weather you’ve been stuck in?”
She thought about it. The real answer involved a monsoon in Myanmar and a failed extraction that still gave her nightmares, but that wasn’t dinner conversation.
“Iceland,” she said instead. “Two years ago. Volcanic ash grounded every flight for a week.” That part was true, at least. “I was supposed to be inspecting hotels in Reykjavik. Ended up snowed in at a tiny guesthouse in the middle of nowhere.”
“That sounds . . .”
“Amazing, actually.” She surprised herself with the honesty. “No cell service. No internet. Just me and a fireplace and a stack of books.” She took a sip of wine. “I read the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in four days.”
“That’s impressive.”
“That’s what happens when you run out of things to inspect.”
He laughed. Deep and husky and it slid in under her skin, rumbling there.
Oh no. Don’t do this. The voice in her head was sharp. Don’t get attached. Don’t let him see you.
But the storm was raging outside, and the wine was good, and Dakota was looking at her with those steady eyes, and she was tired, so very tired of performing.
“Can I tell you something strange?” she heard herself say.
“Always.”
“I got lost in Tokyo once. For a day and a half.” She turned the wineglass in her hands. “Missed a connection, ended up in the wrong part of the city with no phone and barely any cash. Couldn’t read the signs. Couldn’t ask for directions.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“It was the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Dakota went still. “Why?”
“Because nobody knew who I was supposed to be.” The words came out before she could stop them. “No expectations. No performance. I could just . . . wander. Eat street food. Watch people. Be nobody.” She looked up, caught him watching her with that too-seeing gaze. “That probably sounds crazy.”
