Getting Lei'd (13 page)

If I’m completely honest with myself, I know the real reason I am refusing to turn on my phone is that I’m worried there won’t be a message from Kai. I don’t know if my fragile ego can handle it if he is indifferent over my leaving. The decision to leave was the hardest choice I have ever had to make. While I don’t want to hurt Kai, it would shatter me to find out that he doesn’t care.

In the end, I leave my phone off. When the taxi drops me off at home, I shove some money to the driver, drag my suitcase into the hall, and stumble to bed on autopilot. Once I am in bed, I realize that I have never before gone to bed without unpacking from a trip. The old me would have not been able to ignore the luggage in the foyer. The new, brokenhearted, post-Kai me can’t drum up the energy to care.

“How could you leave without them?” I hold my home phone away from my ear so that my mother’s screeching doesn’t burst my eardrum. I should have known that this would all get turned around to be my fault. For some reason, despite the fact that I was sensible and came home when I was scheduled to, I am somehow responsible for Baggy and Ruthie not doing the same.

I resent the fact that they got to stay and I didn’t. I especially resent the fact that I am inexplicably now being blamed for it.
How is this fair?
I want to scream at my mother, but I don’t—of course.

As she prattles on about how I should have insisted that they come home with me, my mind wanders. For once, I’d like to be reckless and carefree. Maybe I should hop on a plane and go back to Hawaii. Wouldn’t that shock everyone? Knowing my luck, Kai would already be with someone new, and I’d have to turn around and come home—
again
. I guess it just isn’t meant to be for me to be wild and spontaneous.

After half a day of walking around my luggage in the foyer, I resign myself to unpacking and laundering my dirty clothes. I just don’t have it in me to ignore it, but it seems so final to actually unload the contents from my suitcase. It is a depressing process, but it has to be done. Life must go on, I guess.

On Monday morning, I arrive at work a few minutes early—of course—going through the motions of being my “normal” self. Sadly, I watch my computer slowly boot up. It takes longer than normal because it has been off for so long. When my e-mail window shows on the bottom that it is downloading 1,348 messages, I feel like screaming in frustration.

Why on earth would I have so many messages?!
This is ridiculous. Everyone knew that I was out. I had made arrangements with my coworkers for coverage on all of my open issues. I sigh deeply and start slogging through the onslaught of messages.

An hour later, I am staring off into space, daydreaming about sitting at Kai’s beach bar. I can’t focus on my work, and I don’t want to. This morning has been the most unproductive hour I have probably ever spent at work. I run a hand through my hair in frustration then look toward the ceiling and have what I can only describe as an epiphany. I may not have all the answers, but I know that sitting here is not the right choice for me.

In what is no doubt the most spontaneous and adventurous moment of my life, I grab my purse, get up, and walk out of my office. My coworkers watch me leave in stunned silence. They must be wondering what I am up to because I usually don’t even leave for lunch. I am like a robot at work—well, I used to be.

I am tempted to yell, “See ya, suckers!” over my shoulder, but at the last minute I chicken out. Feeling incredibly bold and wild, I drive to the airport. I don’t have any luggage and it dawns on me that a same-day flight will probably cost a fortune.

Even though the practical side of me is demanding to go home to pack and perform an Internet search for flights later in the week, I don’t. The newly discovered, crazy-in-love side of me says to jump on the first plane and run into the arms of my man. For once, I am listening to that wild, reckless voice that I have kept buried for so long.

On the plane, my nerves start to kick in.
What if he didn’t miss me? What if he doesn’t have real feelings for me? What if he has already moved on? What if he’s angry about the way that I left?
A flood of anxious questions bombards my brain.

By the time we land, I am a jittery mess, and I have nearly convinced myself that Kai will not want to see me. It is tempting to turn around and head home to save myself the agony and embarrassment, but I need to see this through. Besides, those flights are way too long to turn around and do again so quickly.

I reach for my cell phone, deciding it is time to see if Kai has left me any messages, only to find that it is dead. I am so out of my usual routine that I failed to put my phone on the charger while I slept. I guess this visit is going to be a true leap of faith. I am returning to the island blindly—without knowing what Kai’s reaction was to my departure. I can only hope that he’ll be happy about my return.

One of the great things about not having any luggage is getting to bypass the baggage claim. I breeze through the airport and into a waiting taxi while my plane companions rally around the carousel, likely crossing their fingers and hoping their luggage made the trip.

When my driver pulls up at the resort, I toss some cash his direction and race inside. I am so anxious to see Kai that I am practically bursting with nervous energy and excitement. I hope he is thrilled to see me—or at least not furious with me.

I see from a distance that a woman is tending the beach bar, so I check all of his other usual haunts. Much to my chagrin, Kai is nowhere to be found. When I bump into Leilani, I inquire about Kai’s whereabouts. If she is surprised to see me at the resort, she gives no indication of it as she tells me that she hasn’t seen Kai lately.

Seriously bummed about my anticlimactic return, I decide to find Baggy and Ruthie. At least I know they’ll be pleasantly surprised to see me. I spot them at a table near the pool, papers spread out around them.

“Roxy, you’re back,” Baggy says to me, barely bothering to look up. Their reaction to my arrival is no more enthusiastic than if I had just returned from napping in the room.

“You’re just in time to help plan the wedding,” Ruthie tells me.

“What wedding?!” I demand, wondering exactly how long I’ve been gone.

“Howie and I are engaged,” Baggy beams, looking up at me at last. She shows me her gnarled, bony ring finger, which is weighed down by a marble-size pink diamond. “I have some serious ice now,” she brags enthusiastically.

I fawn appropriately over the ring, until my eyes are drawn to a specific word that stands out on the paperwork. “Tomorrow?” I ask, pointing at the word, almost afraid to hear the response. “What is happening tomorrow—a meeting with the wedding planner?” I inquire hopefully, already knowing in my gut that my guess is incorrect.

“No, silly!” Ruthie rolls her eyes at me. “The wedding is tomorrow. We have it all planned out.” She indicates their scanty notes. “The ceremony is tomorrow, on the beach.” She points proudly at her stick figure drawing of a beach wedding, as if it will magically transform itself into a grand celebration.

I decide that I will have to deal with their crazy ideas later. For now, all I want to do is see Kai. When I ask them where he is, they tell me they haven’t seen him in a while. That seems to be the popular answer, I think to myself, wondering where he could be.

When Baggy lowers her voice and says that he was “quite upset” about my leaving, I feel an awful sense of relief (which I immediately feel guilty about) that he missed me. I head to the beach bar, hoping that he was just on break earlier, and am thrilled to find that the painting I left for him of the two of us ravaging each other behind the secluded waterfall is hanging over the cash register. It has been framed in a lovely aged teak wood, and it looks fantastic—if I do say so myself.

The painting has to be a good sign, right? He can’t be too angry with me if he went to all the effort to frame it and hang it so prominently. I keep trying to fill my mind with these positive thoughts, but I would much rather find Kai to see for myself how he feels. The guilt over the way I left is starting to become overwhelming, and I want to apologize to him.

Honi relieves the bartender for her break and begins wiping down the counter with a wet cloth. He beams a chubby-cheeked smile at me when he sees me approaching, then his face falls into a look of concern. I try not to let my insecurities creep in as I ask him where I can find Kai.

“He went to see you,” Honi informs me.

“But I went home.” At Honi’s serious look, realization dawns on me. “He followed me?” A secret thrill runs down my spine as I begin to dare to hope that Kai might be as serious about us as I am.

Honi seems to register what has happened. “And you came back here for him,” he squeals in his overly high voice. “It’s so sweet.” He claps his pudgy hands together in obvious delight.

I float back over to Ruthie and Baggy’s table. “He followed me home,” I inform them dreamily.

They both stop what they are doing. “That’s amazing!” Ruthie finally exclaims.

Baggy nods in approval. “I told that boy he better not let you get away. He looked like a lovesick puppy after you left. I think that one’s a keeper.” She pats my hand sweetly. Seeing her giant ring brings me back to the dilemma at hand.

“If this wedding is tomorrow, we have some serious planning to do,” I state in my all-business voice.

“It’s all taken care of, sweetheart.” Despite Baggy’s confident reassurance, I doubt if they have thought of a tenth of the things that need to be taken care of.

“Who is officiating the ceremony?” I start in with my questions.

“Oh, Howie and I used all of our magic jelly. We couldn’t find Kai to order more, so I walked to the address listed on the bottle.” I wonder what any of this has to do with my question, but I let her talk without interruption. “Kai’s crazy grandmother lives in a cottage on the property.” I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying anything snarky about Baggy having the audacity to call anyone else crazy. Nana Lana must be pretty eccentric for Baggy to think she’s quirky. “We really hit it off,” Baggy continues, “and she gave me a big ol’ tub of magic jelly.” She holds her arm up for me to admire. “My skin practically glistens with vibrancy.”

I nod, but since she has stopped digressing, I verbally nudge her again. “Who is officiating the wedding?”

“Nana Lana, of course. Didn’t I just tell you that?” She shakes her head as if I am the exasperating one. “She’s some kind of Hawaiian goddess or witch doctor voodoo queen or something. It’s gonna be a hoot!”

“It
is
going to be a hoot,” I agree, and with that simple statement, I let the worry go. Every detail of this wedding doesn’t need to be planned. It is Baggy’s day, and it should be her way—so I guess we will fly by the seat of our pants.

“Only one thing left to do,” Baggy proclaims. Ruthie and I look at her in anticipation. Baggy sets her dated cell phone in the middle of the table. “Someone has to tell your mother.”

We all lean back, staring at the phone as if it might bite us. Several long moments tick past. “Fine.” I finally give in when I decide the standoff has gone on long enough. “You two owe me,” I inform their now-smiling faces. They had both known that I would be the first one to cave.

I pick up the phone before I can chicken out. “Hello, Mother.” My voice sounds shaky and a little squeaky. “I have something to tell you . . .”

I barely get the news of Baggy’s impending wedding out before my mother starts her tirade. I hold the phone out away from my ear as she yells. Baggy and Ruthie stare wide-eyed, wincing periodically as she rants. I try to intervene a couple of times, but she won’t stop long enough to listen. Eventually I set the phone back in the middle of the table. Baggy, Ruthie, and I get up and leave her squawking at the palm trees.

When I go to our room, I immediately plug my cell phone in to the charger I find in the outlet. One of them must have been responsible enough to purchase a replacement after my departure. I am impressed that either of them thought of it. Maybe I haven’t been giving the two of them enough credit.

I immediately nix that idea as I look around at the room. It is an absolute disaster zone—clothes are strewn everywhere (mostly on the floor), the beds are unmade, and wet towels are piled in the bathroom. It looks like they haven’t picked up anything since I left, but good grief, I wasn’t gone
that
long. They must have left the D
O
N
OT
D
ISTURB
sign on the door the entire time because housekeeping obviously hasn’t been here recently.

Absentmindedly, I begin picking up their mess. As I retrieve the clothes from the floor, I realize the two of them must have gone on one heck of a shopping spree. There are plenty of clothes for me to choose from, even without the luxury of luggage. The sundresses will be just a little shorter and skimpier on me, but they will work. Deciding to utilize the resort’s laundry service, I bag the clothing to be washed. As I’m doing so, I wonder what they would have done if I hadn’t returned—pick up dirty clothes from the floor to wear again or buy more? I’m fairly certain they would just go buy more, but Baggy’s stack of hundred-dollar bills will have to run low at some point, right?

My dead phone has buzzed back to life, so I take a deep breath and enter the code to check my voice mail. Since I am the only one in the room, I push the speaker button, and Kai’s voice immediately fills the air. On the first message his voice is perplexed as he asks where I am. There are several other messages where he begins to sound hurt, angry, and sad. I feel terrible for putting him through this.
What had I been thinking?

The last message from Kai is simple and heartbreaking. “I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. I’m on my way to find you.”

His words fill me with joy. It feels too soon to be proclaiming our love for each other. It’s not logical to feel this way after so short an amount of time together, but there is no other way to describe my feelings for Kai.
I love him
,
I realize, finally allowing myself to think it. “I love Kai,” I say aloud, letting the words roll off my tongue. “I love Kai!” I shout the words, twirling as giddy laughter bubbles out of me.