“Oh yeah, why’s that? What’s your hurry, Son?” My father opens a cabinet and pulls out a tackle box.
“I have some important work to do,” I say.
“Oh, come on. Work can wait. We’ve got over a decade of catching up to do.”
He knows I’m lying. He could always read me. And he always called me on my shit.
My old man can be such an asshole.
“Fine. If you must know, I need to talk to Isla. I’m sure she’s worried about me. After we spent last night together, I snuck out to grab us breakfast and disappeared for the whole day.”
“I saw her earlier,” Dad says. “That must be why she looked so sad. Rob said he was worried she might leave early. I don’t even know if she’ll still be there. Oh, well. Easy come, easy go. Right?“
“What?” I stand up. “Turn the boat back on right now. I gotta get back there.”
“Or what?” Dad blocks me as I try to reach the controls.
“Or she might leave without my talking to her and telling her something important,” I say, trying a second time, unsuccessfully, to start the boat.
“I’m not that old, Jackson. I just look it. I’m in good shape. You’re not gonna get me to hand over the helm of my boat,” my father says. “So you may as well fess up, so we can get back in a timely fashion.”
“Fess up about what?” I say.
“How you feel about that funny red-headed British girl.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I argue pointlessly. I don’t know how he knows. But I don’t want to let him have the victory.
“Oh come on, Son. I saw the way you looked at her, and I heard you singing to her last night. Please tell me you’re not the kind of asshole who uses your talent just to get laid?”
“Isla’s the only woman I’ve ever sung to,” I admit.
“But she’s just a friend,” my dad says, giving me a pointed look as he leans back against the steering wheel column, arms folded. “Or what do you call that friends with benefits deal? Fuckbuddy? Fess up already, you dolt.” He raises a contrary eyebrow at me, and it’s infuriatingly similar to looking in a mirror. Is this how my sister feels when I give her a hard time?
“Jesus, Dad, did it ever occur to you that I might want to say it to her before I say it to you!?” I groan. “Can we please just go back now?”
“Close enough,” my father capitulates, starting the engine. “Although you might want to practice your delivery with me. You only get to tell someone you love them for the first time once. You want to make it special.”
“Thanks, but no,” I shake my head. “I’m good. And I’m in a hurry.”
“Right then,” my father kicks the boat into a gear that we haven’t accessed yet, and I’m thrown back into my seat.
I can see the resort in the distance, and the lights of the film crew filming the final ceremony at the gazebo on the beachfront. I just hope I’m not too late.
A few hundred yards more, and I can make out individual cast members through my father’s binoculars. I see Ryker and Darwin engaged in some sort of weird, stand-up arm wrestling contest.
Scanning the area around the gazebo, I spy the tent with the monitors. Is Isla in there without me? I do a visual sweep of the beach. That’s when I see her. A flash of bright red hair against a plain white dress. She’s hugging Alexis.
“Shit! I think she’s leaving!” I put the binoculars down, frustrated. “Can we go any faster?”
“We’re almost there,” Dad pats my shoulder.
“But what if she leaves? What if I’m too late?” I panic.
“Tell you what,” my father reaches back into the cabinet beneath the steering wheel and pulls out a large polished conch shell. “You still remember how to blow one of these like I taught you?”
isla
“I love you, Isla Fairfax. And if for some reason I don’t survive this ordeal, I hope this webcam footage will serve as a testament. I’m going to go back down to the beach now and call Cappy. Who happens to be my father, by the way. But I’ll explain about that later.”
