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Not one bit.
“Lola talked to you about me?”
“Regularly. You have a lot of explaining to do, young man,” Grandma says, clucking her tongue again. That’s twice. She’s disappointed in him. I know that because I know my Grandma, but to look at her you wouldn’t have any idea. Grandma never gets cross. She’s always so calm, so kind and warm. It’s what I love most about her, actually.
“Believe me, Ma, Lola’s already expressed quite how unimpressed with me she is.”
“So you have talked to her then?”
“Yes, briefly over the phone.”
“Good. It won’t come as much of a shock when you turn up.”
“I’m expecting fireworks.”
Fireworks?My stomach rolls over. I’ve no right to feel jealous, to feel anything at all, but thoughts of this beautiful, albeit caustic man being reunited with Lola has me feeling sick. I’m acting like he’s mine. He’s not. I’m fully aware of how ridiculous my reaction is to him. Until this morning, I never truly believed in love at first sight no matter how many times Grandma told me it was real. Though given the way I’m feeling, I’m beginning to think she was right all along. My heart squeezes, stops beating, then starts once more, reminding me exactly what my body feels about him. Damn it.
“You should expect a rocket up your arse, yes,” Grandma Silva responds, her face straight even though her eyes twinkle despite the lingering disappointment I notice in them.
A smile tugs up his lips, lighting up his eyes momentarily before he turns to look at me. That smile drops. “What?” he asks, and by ask, I mean demands. “You’re staring.”
My heart thumps in my chest as his gaze pierces mine.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” I say lightly, covering up my sudden reaction with a broad smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. Smiling is an automatic reaction with me. I always hide my true feelings with smiles because showing how I really feel isn’t an option. People assume I’m an open book, that they know who I am. But no one does. Not truly, not even Grandma. No one seesme, only what’s on the surface and what I choose to share with them. Until now I’ve been okay with that.
Malakai regards me for a moment, then nods and picks up one of the proffered sandwiches, taking a bite. I watch him the whole time he chews, unable or, perhaps, unwilling to take my eyes off him. In contrast, he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the table, lost in his thoughts. Thoughts about a beautiful woman named Lola Hicks, no doubt.
For the next hour Malakai chats with Grandma, ignoring my existence. I notice how he avoids any personal questions about his life and always seems to steer the conversation back to Grandma and what she’s been doing over the years. Neither one of them bring up my parents again, and that alone strikes me as odd given he was supposedly friends with them both.
Still, there is something to be said for being ignored so blatantly. I can stare at Malakai as much as I like without feeling guilty about it. A few times he flinches as though he’s aware of my ogling and is trying not to let it bother him. But most of the time, he seems relaxed, happy with small talk whilst I blatantly commit every inch of him to memory.
Maybe I’m perverted. Maybe I’m lonely. Maybe I’m delusional to even consider that this untouchable, unbreachable, unobtainable man is my soulmate.
I would’ve laughed out loud at the thought had I not believed it to be the truth deep down in the marrow of my bones. For all the warnings Grandma instilled in me, she did nothing to stop this whimsical heart of mine from longing for the kind of soul-deep love my parents had and lost. Even though I didn’t really believe it was true, I’d hoped that it was. If I told her how I feel she would try and warn me off my feelings, offhim,and would remind me to always guard my heart.
No. Matter. What.
“Connie?” Grandma Silva says, probably for the fourth or fifth time given the look on her face.
“Yes, sorry. I was miles away.”
“Always lost in her head,” Grandma explains to Malakai who is, once again, frowning at me.
“I was just thinking about Jack…” I lie, then falter at how the frown line between Malakai’s eyebrows deepen. He flashes me a look that colours my skin in a warm flush.
“Hmm, as much as I like him, he’s a little too wild for my liking,” Grandma says offhandedly, as though she really doesn’t like him all that much. The truth is, she loves Jack, has always said that he’s a good boy despite his need to chase excitement like it’s a girl in a very short skirt.
“It’s not like that,” I begin, shaking my head, because it really,reallyisn’t. Except for that one time when it was… a mistake.
“Well, I need to head off,” Malakai says abruptly, pushing back from the table, the sound of the chair scraping over the tiled floor, sharp to my ears. “Thank you for your hospitality, Ma. I’ll bring the clothes back as soon as I can get to my boat and my stuff.”
“It’s no bother. John would be glad they’d been put to good use,” she responds, waving her hand about as she gets to her feet. “How long do you think you’ll be staying on the island?”
“For as long as it takes to fix the mast. Then I’ll be leaving.”
“Well, be sure to come back anytime whilst you’re here. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Thank you.” He nods tightly, suddenly awkward. This time Grandma doesn’t try to hug him, and he doesn’t offer her one either. “I’ll be off then.”
