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If I paid the price of twenty-three years of hardship—hungry, poor, and barely clothed—to earn this moment, it was worth it.
Totally worth it.
Chapter 18
GABE
It’s my fault that Tillie is completely incapacitated the next day.
We forgot the sunscreen.
We were naked for hours.
We had sex so many times in the sun.
She texts me the next morning asking what standard tourist sunburn protocol might look like.
I tell her I can bring it, but she says no, she’s hiding her condition from her sister and could I please come get her before she’s busted?
So I do, going for the car instead of the motorcycle so that she won’t have the friction of riding close to me to aggravate the burn.
When I arrive, she’s hustling down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. I quickly halt the Mercedes handed down from my mother and run around to hold open the door.
She eases slowly onto the seat, her face scrunched. “Oh, man. This is bad.”
I help her with the seat belt to lessen any twisting she might have to do to get it latched. She wears a light cardigan and a T-shirt with a high neck, so I can’t see the damage.
“Still worth it,” she adds, finally sitting back against the seat.
I hurry around to the driver’s side and crank the air. Her cheeks are flushed, but I have a feeling that’s not what hurts.
“I have aloe and cooling creams, and I’m happy to fan you gently.” I ease out of the lot, trying to avoid any jostling turns.
“I’m glad you got me away before I got a big lecture from Lila. She’s been pestering me about sunscreen every day, and I’ve blown it big-time.”
“I’m sorry. I should have pestered you, too.” I glance over at her as she stretches her arms forward, grimacing.
“You were busy doing other things.” She flashes a quick smile. “I’m not showing any signs of sickness. It just hurts.”
“Any blistering?”
“Not yet.”
It’s a short drive to my apartment. I’m about to apologize in advance for the rather humble living arrangement when she says, “I like this car. I always wanted to ride in a Mercedes.”
“It’s probably almost as old as you.”
“Is not. But I like that you’ve kept it so nice.”
“It was my mom’s, back when she had a regular job. She bikes everywhere now.”
“She hasn’t always sold candles?”
I signal to turn into my complex. “No. She used to be the director of a conservation group on the island. They did studies on indigenous plants and animals and how to protect them. She’s a PhD.”
“Ah. The crab incident makes sense.”
“Yes and no. Most people here know the value of the crabs. They aren’t just part of the animal life. They feed and sustain a lot of local families who catch and sell them.”
