Then Comes Marriage (11 page)

And I don’t know if I’ll ever find happiness again.
 

Which is why my will is bending and I don’t want to get on the plane. I hold my ticket tight in my hand, gripping my carry-on in the other. My bags have been checked, I went through security, and now I wait.
 

I get my phone and open Pinterest, going to my “honeymoon” board (that I’ve renamed “vacation”) and scroll through all the things I was looking forward to doing. Going to Hawaii had been a dream of mine ever since I was a little girl. There’s something so magical about the island, something that begs me to go and explore. And I’m almost positive if I sit on a secluded part of the beach long enough, I’ll see a mermaid.
 

Because that’s where I’d live if I was a mermaid.
 

I had a pretty full agenda made up for Travis and I, wanting to take advantage of the two weeks in paradise. I won’t be able to afford another trip like this for years. We couldn’t really afford this one and I sure as hell couldn’t afford it on my own. I made sure to leave plenty of open hours to relax, soak up the beach, and presumably have crazy honeymoon sex. The thought of having nothing to do fills me with anxiety now.
 

I’ll have nothing to do and no one to do it with.
 

My eyelids drop shut, locking away tears.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
 

“Nervous about the flight?”

I open my eyes and see an old woman looking at me. Blue eyes sparkle, surrounded by wrinkles earned from a lifetime of smiling. Her gray hair is cut short and in tight curls around her head, pushed back with a beaded clip. The harsh overhead lights catch it, making it shine.

“A little,” I say, then feel bad about lying. Though, it won’t take much to convince myself otherwise. I’m not nervous about the flight itself, like I don’t have any bad feelings about the plane going down, but I’m nervous what will happen after the flight.
 

When I land in Hawaii. Alone. The farthest I’ve been from home.
 

“Is this your first time flying over the ocean?” she asks.
 

“No, I went to Italy for school two years ago.”
 

“Oh, how wonderful.” She smiles, pushing the wrinkles back. “Well, I’m sorry dear. You looked nervous.”
 

I don’t know what it is about this old lady that is making me want to confess, but I open my mouth and let the truth come out. “I am nervous, but for different reasons. This was supposed to be my honeymoon, but my fiancé wasn’t faithful.”
 

“Oh, my. I’m terribly sorry.” Her brow furrows. “And you’re going alone?”

There is judgement in her voice, and just like that she went from sweet old lady to bitter old hag. I swallow hard, blink back tears and nod before getting up, pretending that I need to use the bathroom.
 

I stand in front of the sink and look at myself. Hard. I have no makeup on, and all I see are my imperfections. I have a scar on my forehead from falling on gravel when I was a child. My cheeks are naturally rosy, which isn’t a blush-blessing in disguise. It makes my face look blotchy, and reddens like mad when I’m hot. I have marks on my face from popping pimples, dotting my flesh with reminders of my lack of self-control. I never did listen to my mother’s warnings about popping and picking at my face.
 

I look at myself and hate what I see. I look at myself and hate what I feel.
 

I look at myself, and have no clue who I am.
 

Deciding it would be wise to pee now before I board the plane, I use the bathroom then go back to waiting. I look at the images of waterfalls I’ve saved. If I was to have one of those ah-ha moments where I find inner peace and embrace my life, my body, and heart, and love them all equally, it would be here, in front of the sparkling water cascading to the ground.
 

I check the time and assume we’ll start boarding in the next fifteen minutes or so. Needing the cash, I returned Travis’ first class ticket but now I’m wishing I hadn’t. An empty seat next to me would be nice to ensure a quiet flight. Though I don’t think having someone next to me in first class is the same as having someone next to me in coach. I wouldn’t know since I’ve never flown anything but coach before.
 

Tears well in my eyes and I look down at my ticket. This honeymoon was all about living it up in luxury, celebrating the hard work we’d done. But I was the only one doing hard work. I was the only one actually working those extra hours. All those late nights Travis claimed to have…yeah. I don’t buy it anymore.
 

I want to rid myself of the memories of him. Because where there are memories, there is heartache. But every experience has made me who I am today, right? While that makes sense and all, I feel like it’s a lame cop-out for accepting the times you’ve been shit on in life.
 

Remember that time life really sucked? It had to happen so you could learn some life lesson. Because life lessons can only be taught through disappointments, I guess. I put my phone back in my carry on when we’re called to board. Suddenly, I can’t move, can’t get up and walk toward the plane.
 

I don’t have to do this. No one is making me get on this plane and take the trip that was meant to showcase a new marriage and a lifetime of love by myself. I can turn around and go home, get a new job, and get on with my life, going through the motions and getting by.
 

There’s a difference between living and just surviving. And there’s something to be said for taking a chance. Besides, isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? Going to the place I’ve only seen through pictures, having the chance to explore, to go on an adventure?
 

This is my chance to be brave
.
 

Face fear head-on and tell it to go screw itself. Deep breath. I can do this. I got sorted into Gryffindor on the Pottermore website, after all.
 

I stand and smile at the attendant when I give her my ticket. My heart skips a beat and adrenaline surges through me. I used to think being brave meant never showing weakness, never feeling afraid. But as I walk down the aisle of the plane looking for my seat, it hits me. Being brave means picking yourself up off the floor, looking your insecurities in the eye and telling them to fuck off. Being brave means pushing past hardships, it’s getting up every time you fall.
 

I take my seat by the window and click the safety belt into place. I can do this. I can be brave.
 

~*~
 

The breath leaves my lungs and goosebumps break out over my skin. I stare wide-eyed at the world before me, feeling like a child. The air is warm, humid and so fragrent, yet I have chills from the beauty of the ocean. The sun is starting its descent into darkness, casting a golden glow over the landscape.
 

I’ve been in the hotel for only minutes and already, the extra money I paid to get a room with a view is more than worth it. I could stay here forever, looking out at the waves, at the beautiful beach below me, at the vast greenery that lines the water in the distance.
 

I could stay here forever and become one with the island, letting go of everything else and just exist along with nature.
 

All that’s on the agenda for tonight is dinner and a massage. Dinner for two and then a couple’s massage, technically. Skipping dinner is tempting. After all, I didn’t sleep on the plane like I hoped, so I’m tired. I can order food and relax until it’s time for the massage. Yeah…that’s a good plan.
 

But then what will my excuse be tomorrow?
 

Two months ago, my charmed life was cursed. Two months ago, everything fell apart. My life sits in pieces at my feet and now it’s my chance to put it together exactly how I want.
 

So ocean-side dinner for one? Yes, please. I inhale deep, breathing in the smell of the ocean, and close my eyes. Laughter from the shore below echoes, and the steady crash of waves surrounds me. I’m finally here, finally in paradise.
 

I won’t let fear stop me.

Chapter Twelve

Derek

A last minute trip to Hawaii is just how it sounds. Hotels are booked, flights taken, and it’s hard for most people to get off work on a short notice. Yet somehow we did it, even though not everyone could take the same flight. My aunt, cousin, sister, and mother got in hours ago. My other cousin, Justin—the one who just graduated high school—and I took a later flight, and as the only males on this trip, will be rooming together.
 

I’m starting to think this whole thing was a terrible idea.
 

A whole week stuck on an island with my family. So there are worse things, yeah, but there are more enjoyable things too. I haven’t been out of Dallas in years, and haven’t been out of Texas for even longer.
 

It’s strange not to have my gun and badge with me. Without the armor of being Detective Turner, I’m just Derek, a thirty-one-year-old man on vacation with his family. Oh yeah…this trip is going to be loads of fun.
 

“Wanna quiz me?” Justin asks, holding up a notebook. “I’ve been practicing the native tongue to impress the locals.”
 

I chuckle and take the notebook from him. “Do you want to see the view from my room?” I read out loud. “You’re pretty confident.”
 

“I’ve been practicing my moves. And my friend Luke says chicks on vacation like to get freaky.”
 

I shake my head and laugh. I know for a fact this kid is a virgin. He’s not bad looking, but looks more like a fifteen-year-old than an eighteen-year-old boy. He’s tall and lean, taking after our mothers’ side of the family, with brown curly hair and pale blue eyes.
 

“Where did you find the translation?” I ask.

“An app.”
 

Yep, I was right to doubt the credibility. “Maybe you should stick with English. I have a feeling most girls you come across will speak it. And the locals will find that Texas accent exotic.”
 

“You’re right!” His eyes widen as it hits him. “I am the exotic one in this place! What about you? Are you looking for a little island action?” He raises his eyebrows and lowers his voice. “I’m sure you can get any chick you want.”
 

I laugh, but the amusement I felt before is gone and I’m left feeling hollow inside. There was a time when chasing women was fun. Now it just seems…pointless. Because I’m done screwing around and want to settle down. But I don’t believe in love.
 

“Who knows,” I answer.
 

“I heard that the drinking age is lower here too. I think I’m in for some wild nights.”
 

The corners of my lips pull up. He’s a good kid, but not very bright. No wonder Aunt Becky wanted to go all-out and celebrate his graduation. “It’s not. It’s still twenty-one, and while I’m the cool uncle, I’m still a cop.”
 

“Aw, man,” he says. “Well, prepare to turn a blind eye.”
 

I laugh, knowing the closest he’ll come to a wild night is listening to our mothers cackle-laugh after having too much wine. “For you, I can do that.”
 

“Great. What should we do first? Are there nude beaches?”
 

“Not that I’m aware of, and I’m not sure what’s going on first. Marg planned a few things.”
 

He keeps talking a million miles an hour about everything under the sun: girls, college next year, and this trip. Finally, the plane lands, and another hour goes by before we get off the shuttle at the hotel. It’s early and already hot. And humid. Much more humid than Dallas.
 

We get our bags and head to the third floor to our room. The girls’ room is down the hall but far enough away to let Justin believe he can sneak chick into our room. He’s telling me what it means to see a tie on the door, in case I didn’t know. He’s so determined to get laid before the summer’s over I’m almost tempted to play matchmaker and help him find a nice girl.
 

I let my mother know we’re here—they’re on the beach already—then take my luggage into the room. Justin is ready to go find the others, but after that long-ass flight, I want a shower.
 

I’m anxious to get back to Dallas and get back to work, burying myself in a case. Being here with nothing to do leaves me exposed and feeling vulnerable. But fuck it. I’m here and need to prove to my mother I’m mentally stable and put HR’s mind at ease that I won’t snap.
 

One week in Hawaii won’t kill me.
 

I get out of the shower, get dressed, and then head toward the beach to find my family for lunch. Bright sunlight reflects off the water, making it hard to search them out. The beach is way more crowded than you ever see in touristy pictures, filled with lovers and other happy people.
 

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I stop to grab it, holding it close to my face to read past the glare. Go fucking figure, everyone went back inside the hotel to change before lunch. I grumble, pocket my phone and turn to head back inside.
 

I feel eyes on me and turn, catching a glimpse of a woman in a pink bikini and a big, floppy sunhat. She’s carrying a drink and several books, and turns away as soon as I look. She quickly gets up from the lounge chair and goes to the bar.
 

I blink, forcing myself to tear my eyes away. For a split second, I thought I recognized her. And for that second, my heart did something it hadn’t done in a long time: skipped a beat in longing.
 

Even if the odds weren’t impossible, it wouldn’t matter. So why am I stopping and turning and walking toward the bar?
 

It’s crowded in here, and it’s only noon. Though I’d be lying to say a Jack and Coke didn’t sound good right now. The bar is exactly what you’d think it would be: tiki themed and open on all four sides. Sand covers the rustic wooden floor, and most patrons are barefoot and dressed in swimsuits.