Hurricanes in Paradise (14 page)

Everything about the Bahamian Club carried the ambience of an old cigar lounge or a gentlemen’s club. Riley walked in grateful she had dressed for the occasion this morning because she hadn’t had any time to go home and change. Laine walked in right behind her.

“Did you get some rest?” Riley asked.

“I feel fine.”

Riley waited for something else. But nothing else came. Laine instead turned her head to look at the hostess. Riley took her cue. “There will be two of us. We should have a reservation under Riley Sinclair.”

The hostess looked down at her large white ledger and scanned it. The red tip of her fingernail, as vivid as a taillight, traveled the reservations. “Right this way, ladies.”

Riley was so grateful for Mia. She wasn’t sure she could handle another scolding today.

Their shoes clicked on the shiny oak floors beneath them. The deep forest green walls and heavy wood moldings encompassed the two women with their warmth as they made their way to their table. Riley tried to let the environment soothe her nerves as well as her senses.

“Thank you,” she said to the server who was standing by her pulled-out chair, her napkin in his hand.

“You’re welcome, madam.” He walked over to Laine’s chair, which was already pulled out, then picked up her napkin and extended it to her as well. His white starched apron virtually blended into the crisp white tablecloth, making his Bahamian skin seem even darker as he stood there so dapper and refined. “Will it just be the two of you this evening, ladies?” His accent was thick and smooth.

Laine responded, her voice now warm and her countenance softened. “Yes. Just the two of us.”

Riley relaxed into the leather cushion of her chair.

He extended a menu. “Here is our wine list. I’ll give you a moment to decide what you would like and I’ll be right back.”

Laine took the list from his hands and perused it. Riley watched her eyes as they scanned up and down the list. “Ooh, they have Penfolds Grange. I’ll get us a bottle of that. Those are hard to come by.”

Riley knew that wine very well. It was a brainchild of Max Schubert and it was expensive. It was also wonderful. “I’m sorry, Laine. I appreciate it. But I’ll just have water.”

“At a restaurant like this you’re just going to have water?” Her warmth was gone, her condescension back.

“Yes. Just water. But thank you. That is a very nice wine.”

She set the menu down and looked at Riley. “Why don’t you drink?”

Riley felt the intimidation of this woman sweep over her. She looked at Laine, unable to figure out how she possessed the ability to make her feel like a child.

“It was a simple question, Riley. Why don’t you drink?”

Riley lifted her chin and met Laine’s gaze head-on. “Because I choose not to. It’s just a decision that I’ve made. But again, thank you for the offer. I’ll stick with the water.”

Laine never responded; she simply looked at her. Riley offered her nothing in return. She couldn’t. Laine had already drained her today. If she made it to bed sane, she’d collapse in gratitude. When the waiter arrived back at the table, Laine ordered, not even asking Riley what she wanted. She ordered a bottle of wine, the seafood extravaganza appetizer (for two), the onion soup gratin, the club house salad, and the mixed grill house specialty (for two). Riley ordered herself a Caesar salad and the Bahamian conch chowder, which was one of her favorite items.

In fact this dinner was far different from last night’s. Laine didn’t talk to her during the rest of the meal. She simply took out her little notebook, ate a few bites of each item, studied the layout of the room, questioned the servers and wine stewards, and wrote down whatever she deemed important in that leather-bound book of secrets. Riley nibbled, glancing at her watch and grieving over each fifteen-minute increment that passed, her appetite gone. Laine had pretty much ruined her appetite. By the time Laine ordered dessert, the bottle of wine was gone, a glass of cognac had arrived, and most of her questions were slurred. By the time Laine was through, it was almost eight o’clock.

When Riley was certain she was finished, she got out of her chair to help Laine up. “I canth gif myfelf outh this thair.” Her voice was loud through the restaurant.

Riley stepped back. Laine stumbled slightly from her chair and headed toward the door, her journal still sitting on top of the table. Riley grabbed the journal and followed her out the door. “Laine, let me walk you back to your room,” she said, reaching for her arm.

“I donth neef yur helf!” she shouted once they reached the corridor.

Riley wasn’t going to have this on her head too. “I know you don’t. But it’s my job to make sure you’re taken care of.” And she did, with Laine fussing and cussing all the way. She got her to her room and settled her on the sofa, setting the journal on the coffee table. Riley sincerely hoped she’d remember none of it in the morning, because somehow she knew Laine would make it her fault.

* * *

“What are you doing out here this late?” Christian’s voice cut through the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore a couple floors below.

Riley stepped out into the main foyer of The Cove and looked at her watch. It was now almost eight thirty. Gabby’s recital was over, she was certain. She had missed so much in the past two years, she hadn’t wanted to miss anything else. But Laine’s self-absorption had caused her to miss another piece of her little one’s life.

She looked up at Christian, the sight of him taking her breath for a moment. His deeply tanned skin was breathtaking against the baby blue of the linen shirt that hung over the top of his white linen shorts. She hoped he didn’t notice that she had just checked out his gorgeous legs. “I’ve been working.”

“That writer killing you?” He laughed as he walked toward her. His eyes were all but dancing. They always looked at her that way. At least they seemed to.

“Yes, and these shoes.” She walked over to one of the teak benches and tugged at the clasp on one of her shoes.

Christian sat beside her. “Here. You’re too tired to even take off your shoe.” He bent down, lifted both of her feet up onto the bench, and unbuckled each shoe. His hands against her skin made her tremble. “Cold?”

“Um . . . yeah, chilled, I think.” She was so lying. She scooped up the hem of her dress, pressing it against her legs. He set her shoes down on the floor next to them.

“I’d give you a jacket if I had one.”

“It’s okay.” She slipped her feet down quickly and rested them on the warm wood floor. Then her hands went for the knot in her neck.

“Want to talk about it?”

Riley’s head darted up quickly. “She’s unbelievable! She’s condescending and arrogant! She’s mean and snippy! She’s a beast! She caused me to miss Gabby’s recital and she’s my responsibility for five more days!”

Christian laughed. “Guess that would be a yes.”

“I could have reached across the table tonight and slapped her. I wanted to. Honest, I did.” Her words sounded more like Gabby’s than her own. She leaned against the side of the bench and took a deep breath, trying to calm her own nerves. Her voice came out calmer when she spoke the next time. “She got drunk tonight. That’s why I’m here. I had to all but tuck her in bed. She drinks all the time. But tonight she was just out of control.”

Christian leaned against the end of the bench. “I’m sorry about that. Those can be difficult, I know. I’ve had a couple. But I’ve figured out pretty quickly that the drinking is just a by-product of something deeper going on. I usually try to get to the bottom of that. I learned half of my job is being a counselor.”

Riley smiled. She pulled her feet back up on the bench and tucked her dress around her legs, then leaned back so she could face him. The candle behind him flickered light against the right side of his face. She felt her tension begin to release. “I know. I don’t know what it is about her, though. She’s not nice sober, either. And she’s intimidating. It’s like I’m this ignorant schoolgirl when she’s around, even though I’m the one giving her the information. But it’s like she thrives on making me feel like an idiot.”

“Anyone that is around you for a moment, Riley, knows you’re not an idiot.”

Riley shifted against the wooden beam, and her foot slid against his knee. She pulled it back quickly, but the effect was already done. “Tell that to me when I’m with her.” She wrapped her arms across her chest. “So what are you doing here so late tonight?”

“Me?” He smiled as he crossed his ankles and folded his arms across his chest. “A guest had a rough day. Just thought I should check to make sure their evening was going better than their day had gone. Not much different from you, I guess.”

“Yes, it’s different. I had dinner with her because I didn’t have a choice.” She cocked her head at him, studying him in the dim light of the evening. “You did. And you chose to take care of your client. And you’re not sitting here lambasting them when they can’t defend themselves. I’m horrible.” She set her chin on top of her arms.

He laughed. “You’re tired. We all have our days.”

“But I shouldn’t. Not with her . . . and not over this.” The last words were spoken more to herself. Hoping he hadn’t heard, she changed the subject. “So what brought you here? This man from Greece coming to Paradise Island.”

No words came for a moment. He simply kept his black eyes on her. Then he finally spoke. “Healing.”

Her foot slipped and brushed his leg again. She crossed them underneath her so it wouldn’t happen again. “What would you need to heal from?”

“A marriage that should have worked but didn’t. I’ve been in Miami for the last ten years. A year after I arrived, I met a woman who stole my heart. Loved her the best I knew how, but sometimes that isn’t enough. After eight years of marriage, she had another plan.”

The pain that still existed in his heart became evident on his face. She knew that look. “What kind of a plan?”

“The I-don’t-want-to-be-married-anymore plan. The this-isn’t-the-life-I-want plan. You name it, she said it.”

“Any children?”

“No, she changed her mind about that after our second year of marriage. That was the first time I realized that we were in trouble.”

“What did you do?”

“Kept hoping. Kept praying. Kept believing for a miracle. That I could love her enough to fill whatever this hole was inside of her. But you can’t. Learned that a little too late, but you can’t fill something that was made for something eternal. So eventually she packed her bags in search of something she thought was ‘out there.’ When all along it was ‘in here,’” he said, tapping his chest, the linen shirt moving beneath his touch.

“I’m sorry, Christian.”

“Me too. Wasn’t in the plan. Mine, anyway.”

“So how’s it going? The healing part.”

He smiled. “Good. Got a great counselor early on and just said, whatever is in me that got me here, I want it out of me.”

“Doesn’t sound like there was anything in you.”

“Yeah, I thought that too. Realized just thinking that was part of the problem. I thought I could be enough. Realized that I tried to play rescuer. Didn’t work too well. Codependency looks a lot like incredible love. Turns out it’s just an excuse for not wanting to confront things that are wrong in your home. So you just avoid them. I avoided confrontation all the way to divorce court. I’d say there was a lot in me to get out. I had completely shut down my voice. Took a while to get it back. That is just as damaging as the person who doesn’t know how to silence theirs.”

“So then, back to the healing part. How’s it going?”

“Can’t say I don’t grieve at times. But I don’t live broken anymore. Found my voice again. Realized I actually did enjoy life and that there was a life out there to live. And right now I’m enjoying this.”

His look unnerved her. Unease washed over her with the warm breeze that flowed through the foyer.

He must have noticed too because he changed the subject quickly. “So where did you take her for dinner tonight?”

“The Bahamian Club.”

“Ooh, good food.”

“I could hardly eat. I’m starving.”

“Who’s got Gabby?”

“Her dad. He came today and took her for some time together.” She looked at her watch, the sorrow of what she missed washing over her again. “They’re on their way to the airport by now.”

He stood and reached out his hand. “Okay then, come on. Let me take you to get something to eat.”

She looked at the hand that was extended to her. She wanted to go. She really did. But she couldn’t. Divorced or not, he wouldn’t understand her stuff. No one would. She put her hand in his and let him help her to her feet. “Thank you again. But honestly, my mind is so tired, I wouldn’t be great company.”

“You just were,” he said, nudging her slightly. “You can just eat. I won’t even make you talk anymore.”

She laughed. “No, really. Thank you.” She leaned down and picked up her shoes, letting them dangle from her fingertips. “I’m just going to go home.”

His eyes didn’t hide his disappointment. “I’ll ask again. I got my voice back, remember.”

She chuckled. “Okay. You can ask again.” As she walked away, she hated herself for being such a coward. But she still knew something he didn’t. And something Laine didn’t. And something she wished she weren’t. But something that, no matter how much she wished it away, would always be a part of who she was.