Then Comes Marriage (13 page)

I watch the spot on the water, hoping to see another whale. Minutes go by and I’m still staring, mesmerized by the water. The breeze rustles my damp hair and I turn, going back inside. I lay down, trying my best to ignore the empty feeling that’s growing inside, getting bigger and bigger until it consumes me.

Unable to keep the unhappy thoughts at bay, I give up on a power nap, gather my shit, and go downstairs to the main level. There’s plenty to do at the hotel, and I haven’t checked out the gift shop yet. I need at least one cheesy souvenir to remember this crazy ride.
 

I take my time browsing and buy a grossly overpriced shirt for Ella. Kids clothes are just too cute to resist, and it’ll be a while—a long ass while—before I’m buying stuff for my own kids. I add the baby clothes to my oversized bag then go outside. I’m not exactly sure where I’m supposed to go to get on this tour bus, but I have time to wander around and find it.
 

I make it not even two minutes under the hot sun and I’m panicking. I’m never going to find this damn bus and I’m going to miss seeing the Twin Falls. Nervous sweat rolls down between my breasts and I’m mentally yelling at myself not to panic. I walk as fast as my sandal-covered feet can go, turning a corner around the resort and crossing a wide sidewalk.
 

Finally, I see the loading zone, and the sign that says the bus is running twenty minutes late due to a flat tire. I slink under the shade of a palm tree to catch my breath. I’m hot and thirsty, but don’t want to drink what I have packed or I’ll regret it later. Close to the front of the hotel, I go back in, appreciate the invention of air conditioning, and find a vending machine.
 

It’s tucked away in a corridor near the hotel gym. A couple stands nearby, hands all over each other and tongues down each other’s throats. The girl hears me coming and opens her eyes, pushing the guy away. He grabs her ass and gets one more kiss.

“We’ve been caught!” She laughs, cheeks turning as red as her hair. “We’re on our honeymoon. I’m sure you understand.” She giggles and takes her husband’s hand.
 

“I do understand.” I smile and move my gaze to her left hand. “Your ring is gorgeous. Congratulations.”
 

“Awww, thank you honey!” She beams, and leads her husband away. I’m still smiling as I smooth out a dollar and stick my dollar in—three times before the damn machine takes it—and get an iced tea. I twist the cap off as I walk, feeling something different. Something…freeing.
 

Indifference.
 

I take a breath and realize that a weight I didn’t even know was there, pressing down and suffocating, is gone. I wasn’t bubbling with joy for those newlyweds, but it didn’t hurt like a pin in a voodoo doll either. And that makes me smile.
 

I sip the iced tea and go back to the side of the large hotel, where the bus will pick us up. I scan the small crowd, trying not to notice how everyone has a companion. From couples to large groups, everyone has someone. I bite my lip and step under the little awning while I wait.
 

With the ocean not in view anymore, I go back and forth from people watching to admiring the skilled garden work around the resort. Groups of people mill about, talking, laughing, and enjoying the island. I catch parts of their conversations, and most are commenting about the island in some way: the nice weather, the ocean, the beautiful landscape…stuff like that. Others say things not meant to be overheard and I have to work hard to keep my expression neutral while eavesdropping.
 

I’m looking up, watching clouds roll across the sun, when I hear another group of people come up behind me, crossing the sidewalk. They fall into the “talking about the island” category, which isn’t that interesting to listen to in itself, but their southern accents make me turn my head.
 

As soon as I look behind me, I wish I hadn’t. Because one of those Southern accents belongs to the dark and sexy detective. His head is turned away, listening to a woman talk about the hot sun.
 

He said he was here with his family, and I instantly assumed he meant his own family, like a wife and children. I take a minute to analyze what I’m seeing because it’s not jiving with my mental image.
 

The woman who’s talking to him is older, too old to be his wife. Well, I guess not. And if not, props to her for landing such a good looking, younger man. She’s wearing a pink and orange maxi dress and large sunglasses. There is another woman around the same age beside her, and three young adults bring up the rear: two girls in maybe their early twenties and a boy, who can’t be much older than sixteen.
 

My heart skips a beat when they stop nearby, inquiring about tickets to see the Twin Falls. The tour is sold out, which seems to appease the women in the group. They say something about shopping and I see Derek roll his eyes. He turns around and I look down, but it’s too late. He’s already seen me
and
caught me looking.
 

Shit.
 

I flick my gaze back up. It would be too obvious to pretend not to see him now, though he’s in the same boat as I am and isn’t sure what to do because he slows, then looks away, then back again.
 

“Hey Derek,” I say, breaking the awkwardness. Or maybe I just made it worse…that’s more my style.
 

“You know her?” the older woman questions. She takes off her sunglasses. “You know someone?” Her eyes widen. They’re the same color as Derek’s, making me assume she’s his mother. It would explain the age difference.
 

“Uh,” he starts, looking at me like he wished I had kept my damn mouth shut. “Yeah.” His brows come together as he says it, and I know he’s already dreading this explanation, which inevitably is coming.
 

“Ohhhh,” the woman coos, wide smile taking over her face. “Did you meet on the island? Do you know her from home? What’s her name?”
 

“Mom,” one of the young adult girls says through gritted teeth. “Stop it.” She turns to the girl next to her. “I shouldn’t have let her drink this morning.”
 

So if that’s Derek’s mother, then the girl is his sister and being here with “his family” has a whole new meaning.
 

“Hi,” I say, taking the lead and extending my hand. Derek looks incredibly thankful for that. “I’m Rachel. I actually met Derek back in Dallas. He was investigating a murder and I was volunteering at a wellness clinic. And saying that out loud sounds even weirder than it does in my head.”
 

Her smile broadens and she takes my hand, giving it a firm shake. “Such a small world! Oh, how nice to meet you, Rachel. I’m DeeDee, Derek’s mother. How are you enjoying Hawaii?”

“It’s amazing.” I smile. “Even more beautiful in real life than in the pictures.”
 

“Yes,” she agrees. “It’s gorgeous here. The prefect mixture of sun and clouds, with a slight breeze to make it bearable. So how long have you known Derek?”
 

“Mom,” he cuts in. “She’s on her honeymoon and doesn’t want to talk about the weather. Sorry to bother you, Rachel.” He turns to go.

DeeDee raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re on your honeymoon! Of course you are, look how pretty she is. Well your husband’s a pretty lucky guy.”

My heart jumps out of my chest. “Actually, he’s not. I didn’t get married. This isn’t my honeymoon.”
 

Is it just me or did Derek whip around?

“It’s not?” DeeDee asks, leaning in, clearly wanting to know more.
 

“No. It was supposed to be,” I start, a bit unsure why I’m spilling my guts to her. “But my fiancé thought an affair was better than marriage, so here I am.”
 

She looks at me and blinks. No matter how casually you say it, that’s a lot to take in. “So you came by yourself?”

“Yes.” I internally cringe.
 

“So bold!” She turns to the other middle-aged woman. “Did you hear that, Rebecca? She came by herself! I like this one, Derek.”
 

“Mom,” he mutters and I can’t help but laugh. Not even rough, tough police detectives can escape maternal embarrassment. The loud engine of the bus echoes off the side of the hotel. I turn, watching it draw near.
 

“Well,” DeeDee says. “It was very nice to meet you, Rachel. Maybe we’ll see you again.”
 

“Maybe. Have fun shopping,” I say, then worry that comes across as creepy. They didn’t tell me they were going.
 

“So much fun,” Derek mutters.
 

“Hey,” I say as he walks away. “Want to come with me? I, uh, have an extra ticket.” I reach into my bag and pull it out. Derek turns, green eyes meeting mine. He holds my gaze and for just a few seconds, everything fades. My heart beats fast, waiting for his response.
 

“Yeah. I do.”
 

And now my heart is pounding away with excitement. I hand him the ticket and wave bye to his mother.
 

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping up next to me. I swallow hard and get a good look at him. He’s several inches taller than me, and muscular. And his face…god, he’s good looking. “She’s overbearing, I know.”
 

“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “Though when you said you were here with family, I assumed you meant your own family, like wife and kids.”
 

“Yeah, I could see that. This is a family reunion type of vacation.”
 

“Damn. My family reunions were always at a park.” I shake my head and laugh. “And all I remember is warm potato salad—from sitting out in the sun all day—Uncle Jack’s stinky cigars, and way too many bees. Nothing like Hawaii.”
 

Derek laughs. “I guess that doesn’t compare. Sorry to hear about the, um, uh…”

“Asshole fiancé?” I offer for him and wave my hand in the air. “Thanks, but I can honestly say now that I’m okay. You live and learn, right?”
 

“You just might be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he chuckles.
 

I shrug. “I can think of lots of reasons why I’m not.” The line moves and we board the bus, which is more like a large Jeep with open sides and no seat belts. “Point in case being why I’m okay.”
 

We sit in the back next to each other. I put my bag in my lap and flip my sunglasses onto the top of my head. Derek turns in, facing me.
 

“That makes no sense.”

“I guess I can see how that’s confusing. If you go back to the source, you’ll see I’m completely crazy.”
 

He laughs again, lighting up his face. “I think we all are. To some degree or another.”
 

“Yeah. I’m sure you deal with crazy on a regular basis too. Not that you want to talk about work.
 
You probably can’t talk about it, right?”
 

His face darkens and I’m worried I said something wrong. “Right.”
 
He fiddles with his watch, shoulders tensing. “Have you been to the wellness clinic lately?”

“No. After the breakup I moved back home to Michigan…which was a while ago.”
 

“Oh, okay.” The tension leaves and he leans back in the seat.
 

“You’re not going to kill me out here, right?” I ask with a smile. “I didn’t hand over a ticket to my own murder, did I?”
 

He nods. “I’ve been taking notes for years on how to properly dispose of a body, but with all the sharks around here I’m leaning towards dumping you off into the ocean.”
 

The woman in front of us turns around to look at us, eyes wide.
 

“It’s okay, he’s a cop,” I say with a smile. She slowly nods then turns back around, whispering something to her companion. Derek and I laugh. “I have the perfect murder plotted, you know.”

“Do you now?”

“Yeah. Thanks to being a nurse, I know the human body well. I can theoretically kill someone in a way that would never be detected.”
 

“I need to know this. In case I come up against it in the future.”
 

“Insulin or potassium,” I explain. “Both are naturally occurring in the body but can result in death if there is too much or too little. I plan to do the lethal injection in the mouth, like back of the throat or something where needle marks wouldn’t be seen.”
 

He considers it for a moment. “That could work. But how would you get the needle in someone’s mouth without a struggle? Signs of struggle are obvious, you know.”
 

“Damn. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Clearly, I’m not the murdering type. Which is probably good for you since I’m doubting you brought your handcuffs with you.”
 

“I brought my vacation cuffs. You know, the ones lined with fur. Pink fur, to be exact. With sparkles. But even if I didn’t have cuffs, I’d still find a way to tie you up.”
 

I laugh. “Psshhh. Only if you can catch me.”
 

“Oh, I’d catch you. But since I’m a mega-stalker who followed you here from Texas, I wouldn’t arrest you anyway. I’d take you back to my basement apartment, fatten you up, then use your skin as a lampshade.”
 

“A lampshade? That’s boring.”
 

The lady in front of us turns around again, curiosity turning into worry. I give her a smile before realizing that’s probably just adding to the creep-factor of our conversation.

“What should I do with your skin then?”
 

“Probably tan it.” I hold up my arm. “I’m very pale. And then…make shoes out of it or something. You wear it out in public, letting everyone see, yet not getting caught. And you’d have a foot fetish of course, hence the skin-shoes. Knowing that my skin was covering your feet would bring some sort of sexual enjoyment, and being in the public eye would enhance it like your sick form of exhibition.”

He laughs. “That’s pretty well thought out. You’re kind of weird, you know.”