Before I Ever Met You by Karina Halle
“They bloom at night,” he says, taking the flower away and smelling it himself, rather delicately. “To lure the sphinx moth. Only they don’t have any nectar—it’s all a rouse. So the bloody moth flies from flower to flower, in a fruitless search for nectar. And while it does that, the moth pollinates, ensuring the flower’s survival.” He flicks the flower to the sand and stares at it for a few moments.
“Is this a metaphor for something?” I ask after a few beats.
He glances at me quickly before turning his attention to the waves, the spray illuminated by the moon and the faint light of the hotel rooms. “If it is, you’ll have to let me know who you’d be…the flower, or the moth.”
“Neither,” I say. “I’m just the girl who wants to put the flowers in her hair.”
He chuckles at that and nods a few times, shoving his hands in his pockets. Silence is a line between us, weighted and heavy. I have this feeling that if I don’t say a word, the silence will continue, thickening by the minute, like adding flour to water.
I look at him. “Can I ask you something?”
“No.”
“It’s about Juliet.”
Finally, his eyes come back to meet mine, brows furrowed with worry. “What?” he says hesitantly.
“Did you cheat on her with that girl Charlotte? The one who worked here?”
For a second it seems like he hasn’t heard me. Then his eyes widen and he physically recoils, shaking his head. “What the bloody hell, Veronica?”
“I just want to know. I need to know.”
“Why?”
“Why?’ My voice can’t help but rising an octave. “Because she was my sister. I have a right to know.”
“We’ve already been over this. You don’t have a right to know. That was our marriage and our business.”
“She confided in me!” I exclaim. “Don’t you understand? That means that she saw me worthy of her secret, worthy of me knowing she was married to a liar and a cheater, that one aspect of her life wasn’t perfect.”
“You think that gives you the right?”
“Yes! I do! You don’t understand, she never gave me anything. That’s all I got from her and I need the whole truth.”
“Fucking Jack Nicholson.”
I twitch in confusion. “What?” I hiss.
He rubs his hand down his face and sighs. “I can’t even respond to you without sounding like I’m borrowing from a movie cliché.”
“What? That I can’t handle the truth?”
“Much better when you say it.”
“I can handle it!” I yell. “I just need to know.”
“Why?”
“Stop asking me that!”
“But I want to know. Is it because if you knew how terrible I was, you would stop being attracted to me?”
Now it’s my turn to recoil. “Oh my god.” And fuck! Dammit! My cheeks are flaring up, betraying me right away. I turn away from him, shaking my head, wondering how on earth I can squash his idea. This is the last thing I want, the last thing his ego needs, the worst thing for my job.
“Is that why?” he keeps going, following right behind me as I walk aimlessly down the beach, sinking into the sand with each step. “Why you’re walking away right now? Because it’s your own truth that you can’t handle?”
“Oh fuck off, you don’t know me,” I scowl. I keep going and I don’t turn around. “Don’t change the subject.”
“This has nothing to do with me at all, Freckles, and you know it. That’s why you’re so fixated on it.”
“I’m fixated because she was my sister.”
“And because she was your sister, that means that whatever you feel for me, whether it’s lust, whether it’s more, you think it’s wrong. Unforgiveable. You hate yourself for it.”
This can’t be happening; this can’t be happening.
He grabs my arm, whirling me around. The sand goes flying.
“It’s easier for you to hate me then to like me, isn’t it?”
“You’re an easy person to hate!” I fire back. “That’s on you.”
I try and get out of his grasp.
He doesn’t let go.
He’s staring at me so intently that I’m nearly pinned to the ground.
“Charlotte,” he says slowly, “was a friend of mine. I knew she had a crush on me and she was a nice girl. It took a year and a half after Juliet died for me to finally agree to a date. We went on three. That was all. I went back to being alone. She went and found someone else. Eventually she quit her job and moved in with him. Everyone was fine.” His grip on my arm tightens. “I did not cheat on Juliet with Charlotte.”
How diplomatic, I think to myself, not denying he didn’t cheat on her, just denying he cheated on her with this Charlotte woman.
“But,” he goes on, “the more excuses you can find to hate me, to bury your attraction to me, the better.”
God, I want to punch in his smug, handsome face so fucking bad!
“You’re a dick,” I say bitterly. “A dick with an unstoppable ego.”
“Or maybe an ego with an unstoppable dick. But no, that thought won’t help you, will it?”
“Fuck you.”
“You’ve said that already and nothing’s happened.”
I try and wriggle out of his grasp again.
“I’m not letting you go,” he says. “Until you tell me I’m right.”
“About what? That I’m attracted to you?”
He hauls me closer to him, so our faces are just inches apart. My breath catches in my throat and stays there. I’m afraid to breathe. I’m afraid…of everything. My little world I’ve built for myself on this island is tipping and I’m moments from being lost to the waves.
Lost to him.
Like I’ve always wanted to be.
“Then kiss me,” he says. It’s both a command and a growl and it nearly knocks me off balance. “Prove me wrong.”
I’m staring at his mouth of course, the way he’s holding it, the way his lips almost snarl. It’s an invitation, it’s a trap. And I would never give him the satisfaction of being right, no matter how badly I want his lips on mine.
“No,” I tell him, fixing my gaze on his eyes with as much strength and venom as I can handle. I’m a woman and my venom is as powerful as my heart. I have endless reserves. “That’s what you want me to do.”
“And if I say yes,” he murmurs, his face coming closer, the top of his nose brushing against mine, “that I want it too—would that change anything?”
It would change everything.
Everything.
“It wouldn’t matter,” I tell him. I don’t know where I find the strength.
“I think you’re lying,” he whispers. His hands let go of my arms and reach up, disappearing into my hair. “And I’ll prove it.”
Before I can protest, he swiftly leans in and kisses me. His lips are pressed, flush, wet to mine and in that moment a million waves could crash over my head and it wouldn’t come close to this feeling. I’m sinking, drowning, swimming against his lips. His mouth works against mine in perfect rhythm, his tongue so warm and soft and fucking addicting. He tastes like rum punch and lies and the first rays of morning.
Your sister, that voice, that loud and important voice, speaks up. It’s nearly buried by the lust that’s building through me, the same lust that’s making my knees weak, my limbs tremble and shake.
But it’s there.
I put my hand at his chest and push him back. Not hard, just enough for our mouths to break apart. He’s breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring, his eyes drenched in desire, and I already feel empty without his kiss. Every part of me aches.
“We can’t,” I tell him, wishing I didn’t sound so weak.
“Because of Juliet? Your mother? Which person in your family is it?” His tone is borderline nasty.
“Because,” I say feebly, but my fingers are already trailing to the button on his shirt, just beneath his collarbone. “It’s wrong and
“We’re adults,” Logan says. “We can make our own decisions. We can decide what’s right for us, not anyone else, not because of what anyone else thinks.” He runs his hand through my hair, scratching along the scalp and I nearly melt right there. “Fuck, Veronica. Tell me this isn’t what you want. Tell me it’s not me and I’ll walk away and we’ll go back to what was.”
But the truth is so confusing, so dicey.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says, running his thumb over my lips. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a long time. And I’ve been wanting to do a hell of a lot more. If you think it’s been easy for me to deal with that…”
“You were married,” I tell him.
“I’m aware of that,” he says. “But the past tense is was.”
I look at him sharply, like I’ve been kicked in the shins. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“She’s dead,” I cry out softly. “If she wasn’t, you wouldn’t be saying this.” I pause, the reality kicking in. “But, wait, of course you would.”
He flinches. “Easy now. This is about us.”
“There is no us without her, don’t you see that?”
His brows knit together as he stares at me, his jaw set hard. “All I know is how I feel. And I know how you feel too.”
“I never admitted anything!” I say, about to push him away for good.
But his hand in my hair makes a tight fist, pulling on the strands and he brings my face right up to his. “If you think any of this is easy, you’re wrong,” he growls.
And then he’s kissing me again and I’m a goner. His hand pulls at my hair and I moan into his mouth while his other hand grabs hold of my ass, yanking me into him. I feel everything all at once. I’m overloaded, like a million dreams have just been dumped on me from above. His hard-on pressing against my pelvis, my thighs clenching together, his tongue sliding against mine at a slow and languid pace, the hard and soft of his lips as he both soothes and devours me.
I’m not bashful either. I grab the back of his neck, feeling his hot skin, and I run my nails over his shoulders and the tight, hard muscle underneath. Johnny once told me the Hawaiians saw fire as a force that gave instead of took and here, as we stand on the beach, the waves crashing angrily at our feet, I understand what he means. We’re positively volcanic and the fire between us is growing and giving life to something else entirely. Something new. Something unstoppable.
“Logan?”
Daniel’s voice cuts between us like we’ve been doused with ice water. We both let go of each other and jump back, our chests heaving, fear in our eyes.
It’s then that I realize how wrong this has been. Our reaction says it all.
Logan clears his throat and starts marching down the beach toward Daniel’s shadow. “Over here. What’s going on?”
Daniel stops and I think he’s looking over at me. I’m not sure if I’m hidden by the bend of the plumeria bushes or not, I’m not sure if I have to hide. If we were just talking to each other, I wouldn’t be thinking it. But since we weren’t—since he was kissing me, and vice versa—now I have something to feel guilty about.
And do I ever feel guilty. As Logan talks to Daniel about what to do with some of the excess items from the luau, I slink back into the bushes and go the long way around the restaurant.
I know it’s wrong, I know I shouldn’t be running away like this, that I should stay and wait for Logan and talk about what just happened, set things straight, but I’m a coward. Right here and now, I’m a coward. I just want to forget that anything happened. I want to pretend that I don’t know what Logan Shephard tastes like, what his erection feels like, what his voice sounds like when it’s choked with lust for me. I need to forget it all.
I’m quiet when I get back into the unit, just in case Kate’s asleep. In fact, I don’t hear anything until I’ve washed up and I’m crawling under the covers. A set of murmurs and giggles comes from her room. I can pick out Charlie’s voice.
Fuck. They sound cute and happy together. Once again, what the hell did Daniel put in that punch?
It doesn’t matter because at least it makes me sleep. I put my earplugs in so I can drown out Kate and Charlie and then I’m dreaming.
12
“Kill me now.”
I blink a few times at the sound of Kate’s voice. At least it sounds like Kate. It could also be a toad. I’ve seen a lot of them on the lawn between the buildings. It’s croaking like one.
I roll over in bed because I can feel her hovering over me, and when I do it’s like the pits of hell open and a million fiery jackhammers are released, heading straight for my brain.
“Ugggh,” I moan, holding onto my temples.
“I know, right?” Kate says. “I think Danny boy was up to some real Bill Cosby shit with that punch last night. I feel like death.”
I slowly sit up and Kate thrusts a glass in my hands. “It’s coconut water,” she says. “It should help. I already drank the carton and I toasted all the bread we had. And then I ate it. Sorry.”
I wave her away and try and down some of the drink. “It’s fine. Wow. I’ve felt better.” I finally open my eyes fully and get a good look at her. She still looks pretty, though she has a slight green tinge to her skin and her mouth looks a bit swollen. As in bruised. As in, I know exactly what went on between her and Charlie last night.
You also know what happened with you and Logan, I remind myself and of course all those memories decide to come flooding back. Did that actually happen?
But it’s Kate who is looking at me with the extra-innocent expression which I know means she’s extra-guilty. I wonder if I look the same.
“So,” I say, biting my lip to keep from smiling. “You turned in early last night.”
She stares at me and her features harden, giving me nothing. “Yeah. Like I said. The punch. Bill Cosby. Roofies. That whole analogy.” She makes a dismissive gesture with her hand.
I match her innocent expression from earlier. “Charlie disappeared too.”
She shrugs and plucks the empty glass from my hand. “Maybe, I don’t know.” She walks out of my bedroom and over to the kitchen where I can’t see her.
“I saw you guys arguing in the parking lot,” I say loudly so she can hear.
“What? Oh. You know Charlie.”
“I also heard you talking and giggling last night when I was going to sleep. You know. From your bedroom.”
Total silence. She could butter the silence, it’s so thick.
“You don’t want to talk about it, that’s cool,” I say, getting out of bed. “I ain’t one to pry. But if you do want to talk about it, you’ll know where I am. Right here. Or in the restaurant. That’s pretty much it. And I’m all ears.”
To Kate’s credit she keeps mum about the whole thing, at least for the morning. I head out on the balcony with a large cup of coffee and watch the waves in the distance, listening to the soft coos of the tiny zebra doves that have perched along the railing.
And I ruin all that morning Zen and calmness by thinking about what the fuck happened last night.
Holy. Shit.
Logan kissed me. Logan basically told me he wanted me, was attracted to me, as much as I wanted him. And he wasn’t just leading me on, not in that way. I felt his desire, I felt everything I’d always wanted.
And yet the minute that a light was shone upon us, we both balked. We both acted like nothing was happening because we both felt guilty. He can tell me how badly I want him and how I beat myself up over it and I’ll admit he’s right. I’m not sure how he knows that, if I’m that transparent, if it was wishful thinking, but he’s right. And the guilt has been eating me alive.
But that same guilt plagues him. Maybe it’s the cheating he did on Juliet, maybe it’s because of the same reason as it is for me, but he can’t pretend that his own desires and ego aren’t slave to the same machine.
So where does
Logan wants me too.
I think that’s the one I’m having the most trouble with. Why a man like him would be interested in a girl like me is beyond my comprehension. It’s not a matter of false modesty and humility. I get why Charlie might want me (not that he does since he’s currently boning—or reboning—Kate) or maybe even Dan. But Logan is older. Probably the most handsome, manliest, most fuckable man I’ve ever met. And he can—and has—attracted the most gorgeous women. I’m just the cook at his hotel.
And, fuck, that’s another reason why all of this is a big mistake. You’d think I would fucking learn from last time, from throwing my future all away because I slept with my boss. I mean, what the hell am I thinking?
That question will get me through the rest of my day. It makes the hangover peel away and forces me to look at last night as a drunken, momentary lapse of judgment. Whatever feelings I have for Logan have to end now, because as we both proved last night, alcohol is a bad idea and being horny is never an excuse to do something you regret.
Because now I do regret what happened. I’m not going to dwell on it or beat myself up anymore but I am going to make sure that it will never, ever happen again.
When I head back into the unit, I’m full of new resolve. Meanwhile Kate is looking guilty, standing in the corner of the kitchen with a mousy expression and drinking coffee.
“Am I an idiot?” she asks me quietly.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask, putting my coffee cup in the sink. I fold my arms across my chest, grateful to worry about someone else’s mistakes. “Why, because you slept with Charlie?”
She nods. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”