Page 50 of Rockland

I cross my arms over my chest and shoot daggers out of my eyes. “John…”

He throws his head back, slapping his knee as he finally releases a great laugh from within his belly. There are tears—actual tears—streaming from the corners of his eyes. He tries to speak but his laughter makes it almost impossible. “Your face… oh, my gosh—you should have seen—” a few more loud laughs burst from within him, “your face, Tess.”

“He told me he lived in a remote village! He has a simple life. That they build their homes with their own hands. I just assumed that they all ran about naked sleeping in some kind of thatched roofed⁠—”

“Oh, my God, Tess. This is too much. And the outfit? Oh, man. It’s all coming together. Did Rockland ever tell you that they live in huts?”

I frown. “No, I just kind of filled in the blanks for myself.”

“You know what they say about making assumptions.”

I roll my eyes and mutter under my breath, “Never make an assumption because men are asses?” I know he’s in too good of a mood to correct my sass.

He wipes tears from his eyes, throws a heavy arm over my shoulders. “Rockland always did have a bit of a prankster side to him, didn’t he?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Though he does love to tease me. Mercilessly.” I remember the ongoing banter that ran between us when he was living under my roof. I’d never had that with anyone before and I’d loved every minute of our verbal sparring.

My gaze travels to the building. Now that we are closer, more of it is exposed. I can see that the three-story beauty is made of stone. Has verandas overlooking the ocean on every level. And huge walls of windows facing the water.

It’s fit for a king.

The words slip from my mouth before I can think them, “Don’t tell me that’s Rockland’s… house⁠—”

“Oh, yes. That’s his little hut. But don’t be expecting running water or electricity on the island.”

I give him a side glance. He’s trying to keep a straight face. “Ha ha. You got me good. I guess I may have stereotyped the islanders, just a bit. A little New York City snobbery might be deeply ingrained in my blood.”

John’s collected himself now and he’s able to carry on a conversation once more. “Don’t feel bad, Tess. I think showing up in that outfit is penance enough.”

I groan. I’d forgotten my ensemble. “What am I going to do? I look ridiculous!”

“I’m sure the Beauties have something you can borrow.”

“They call themselves Beauties? I thought that was just a nickname Paige brought with her when she came to the Village.”

“Mary and Sasha brought the name with them on one of their visits and it stuck.”

“Sasha’s been here too! Am I the only one who hasn’t been extended the invitation⁠—”

John interrupts my rant by pointing over my shoulder at the island. “Look, we’re here.”

The boat glides up to a pristine wooden dock. The crew busily docks the boat, anchoring it and tying ropes to metal fasteners.

I stare past them.

It’s nothing like I imagined.

White sand beaches. Children playing on the shore, running and chasing, their skin brown from the sun. White smiles gleaming. Laugher pealing as they splash and play in the shallow water. The mothers dot the sand. All dressed in elegant lightly colored loose clothing. Linen and silk billowing behind them in the breeze as they talk and laugh while watching the children adoringly. My gaze rises and I see Rockland’s home. It’s even more breathtaking up close. There’s a terracotta-colored patio dotted with black metal bistro tables much like those we have at the Village. The woman are serving dishes, the men standing and watching them as they chat with one another over drinks. I feel a pang in my heart for my own Village. I scan the crowd, desperately searching for Rockland.

Dante comes to me, offering me his hand and helping me off the boat and onto the dock. I wait, wringing my hands, for John to come escort me to the house.

I can’t speak. I can’t think. Suddenly, my knees are jelly. My face feels hot, but my hands and feet are icy. I look to John, my bottom lip trembling.

He reads my face, his gaze soft. He takes my hand in his. “Come on, honey. Let’s go on and find him. The anticipation is the worst part. Once you see him…” His words trail off and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

I take a deep breath. Though I’m nervous, I’m ready to see him.

As we approach, there are stares. I seem to be the only redhead in the group. I fear the sun is reflecting off my pale skin blinding everyone. I try to paste a friendly smile on my face but the crowd of eyes is too overwhelming. I decide to focus on the houses instead. They are all beautiful. Similar style of white stone with big windows and verandas. All facing the ocean. But each having its own details, much like we do at home. One has a red roof. Another one, black shutters and colorful flowers in wooden window boxes. Another, several trikes and bikes parked haphazardly before it.