Chapter Twenty-Eight

We’re curled up on the lounge chair. Arlie reads from the very book he threw the day prior in our moment of passion here on this lounge.

Was it the book that invoked our passion? Or is there a real love affair beginning to unfold between us?

Am I going to finally find myself in a position where I’ll actually date a guy? Is Arlie my future boyfriend? My first boyfriend?

As Arlie continues reading, every word he says tells me I never want to read another book for myself again. Who needs an audiobook when you have an Arlie Blight?

Arlie’s voice. The words. Him. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. And right now, I think Arlie is, in fact, my perfect catch.

He turns to the second to last page. Hugh and Delilah have sorted through the messy relationship that unfolded throughout the hundreds of pages prior, and I find myself hoping for a fairy-tale ending. I have a feeling, though, that this rollercoaster ride will complete with anything but. Chris never gave away the ending, but something in the way he spoke about this story has led me to think I won’t be happy with its conclusion.

“Are you ready for the ending?” Arlie runs his fingers back and forward across my stomach.

“I’m ready,” I breathe, not feeling ready at all.

“Okay.” He continues. “Watching Delilah stand by the dresser, brushing her long locks each night, has me pinching myself. She’s a vision, angelic, pure … and she’s mine. How I’m going to last without her when I travel to New York next week, I can’t fathom. But we do need to part even though it’s only for seven days.

“A week is too long for me to be without Delilah. She’s the light which invades the darkness of my broken soul. She’s the hope I never thought I deserved but wished to hold …”

Arlie shifts his hand from my stomach to my hair, running his fingers through my untamed locks as I relax farther back against his chest.

He continues reading. “Delilah places her hairbrush on the dresser. She turns to face me. Her smile is sexy, inviting … I know I’m going to have her over and over. I’ve a week of lost time approaching, and I’ve only eight hours to hold her before I’m gone …”

I tilt my head slightly, so I can hear Arlie’s heart beating more clearly as he keeps reading.

“‘I wish you weren’t leaving in the morning,’ Delilah says. ‘I wish, mon, free, fly, turning start.’

“Delilah ’s words make no sense as her eyes grow. Her arms fall limply to her sides. There’s this imminent fear taking over her expression …”

I gasp.

“What just happened?” Arlie says.

I swallow hard. My heart thumps one intense beat. “Keep going.”

He does. “‘Baby, baby, are you okay?’ I leap from the bed.

“Delilah steps forward. Her eyes roll back into her head. ‘Love,’ she moans before her legs give way, and I catch her slumped body before it hits the floor ...”

I bolt upright. I flick my head towards Arlie overcome with shock. It feels as though I’m Hugh, left holding the love of my life in my arms. This must be a joke. Arlie must be messing with me. “It doesn’t say that, does it?”

He nods.

“Give it here.” I snatch the paperback from his hands. The sense of happiness I felt for this fictional couple has disappeared, now replaced with a painful ache that’s tearing my heart in two. Instant sadness.

I trace my finger down the page, trying to find the last line Arlie read. I know I’m trembling. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes. I read on silently.

“Baby, no. Come back to me. No!” I scream so forcefully I can taste the blood at the back of my throat. “Help me! Somebody help me! She’s dying. She’s dying.”

No matter how hard I pump Delilah’s chest with my desperate hands, or how many times I place my lips to hers and give her my breath, my life, she doesn’t open her eyes.

Delilah doesn’t speak a word.

Her heart doesn’t beat again.

She’s gone.

I spent a lifetime running away. I ran because losing someone to the angel of death again wasn’t an option.

Why did I think things would be different this time? Why did I think my curse would be lifted?

I should’ve kept running when I had the chance. I won’t survive this heartache. I won’t survive losing Delilah.

I can’t live without her.

“Baby, please open your eyes. Don’t leave me,” I howl.

Don’t leave me.

To be continued …

“Fuck off! Who the hell does this crazy bitch author think she is? You can’t do something like that. You can’t,” I shout, ripping my arm backwards and hurtling the paperback across the room. “I seriously hope this author chokes on a dick and dies.” I pull myself upright. I stomp towards the front doors.

“Where are you going?” Arlie says.

“Away from that damn book. It’s horrible. The story is horrible.” I pause. “To be continued! What tripe is that?” I open the door. “To be continued,” I mutter, stepping out onto the verandah.

You can’t end a story by ripping a person’s heart out. Why did this author kill the lead character? It’s cruel. So freaking cruel.

I’m never reading another book for as long as I live.

Well, except for the next one in this damn series, because what happens to Hugh now?

***

I trek down the stairs. I don’t know where I’m going, but I stomp my feet and continue to mutter curse words under my breath as I go.

A catamaran sails across the ocean. I catch sight of it in my peripheral vision. What in the hell? Naturally, I change my direction and march towards the beach.

Jet skis, sailboats, canoes, a windsurfer, surfboards … the sand is littered with them.

I’m confused.

There’s not a person in sight, apart from two camera operators who seem to be filming the arrival of the catamaran heading towards them, and the shore.

I shift my attention to my right and spot a pop-up bar, just like the one I sat in front of for an entire afternoon when I took a vacation to the USA and had a layover in Hawaii.

There’s a grass hut with a roof and brightly coloured flags flapping in the breeze around it. Small tables beside long deck chairs with beach umbrellas placed between them. There’s even a big sign which reads, Happy Birthday, Melinda.

This is all for me. Get out of here.

As I manoeuvre the stairs, I change my stomp-like march to a relaxed stride. When I reach the sand, I note it’s much cooler than it was when I was down here earlier and more pleasant on the soles of my feet. Scanning the ocean, I’m surprised by the thick whitewash being forced in my direction. The sea is nowhere near as tame as it was earlier either.

This ever-changing island suddenly excites me. These watercrafts and activities laid out in front of me cause butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

Maybe the outdoors isn’t as bad as I thought. I can drink, Arlie can play with the boy’s toys; the afternoon promises a change of pace to our current quiet retreat.

A clearing of a throat has me swivelling on my heels until I can see over my shoulder. Arlie stands with an excited smile lifting his lips.

“How cool is this?” I can hear the happiness in my tone.

“Very. I think we’ll need to get changed into our bathers.”

“Agreed.” I flick my vision back to the tiki-type hut, and the chairs set out around it; I can’t think of any way I’d want to spend the rest of this afternoon than drinking cocktails and relaxing.

“Arlie, Melinda.” The familiar voice of Daniel has my eyes travelling in the opposite direction from the cocktail bar.

“How are you enjoying paradise?” he says when he stops in front of us.

I laugh. How am I enjoying it? Am I enjoying it? I’ve no frickin’ idea. So many crazy things have happened in such a short amount of time. My head is spinning.

“It’s been interesting,” Arlie states.

“I agree.” I do agree. It has been interesting and a little crazy.

“How are you feeling, Melinda? That was a nasty sting you received.” Daniel adjusts the collar on his button-down shirt.

“Much better.”

“Good. And a Happy Birthday to you.”

“Thank you.”

“This is the gift you’ve won for completing the mountain hike. Unfortunately, you failed the canoe task, and the date night task as you only prepared a meal in the home, so you lucked out on the prize for both of those.”

There are no surprises on the canoe task, but I happened to enjoy our date night.

“You get to keep this equipment for ten days. Then they’re gone.”

“Okay,” Arlie and I say simultaneously.

“The cameras have caught your reactions to the big reveal …”

“How? They weren’t facing me,” I say.

Daniel points over my shoulder. I twist my head and see a long-lensed camera peeking through some trees.

“Sneaky little sucker.”

“The point of the show is that you don’t see them or the crewmen as much as possible. It’s the deserted island experience. I only came over to make sure you two were well and doing fine, and to film my segments for your island for the show. We weren’t expecting you down on the beach quite so soon, but it’s worked out. We’ve captured what was needed.”

“Sex,” I blurt out, like the word is used commonly and openly amongst strangers in such a manner.

Daniel’s eyes widen as he stifles a smile I can see trying to lift his lips.

“Sex can’t go on television, right?”

Arlie clears his throat.

Daniel’s attempt to keep his humour cloaked fails. His smile flickers brightly.

“It can’t, right?”

“No. We don’t air nudity or sex,” Daniel says matter-of-factly.

Arlie clears his throat again.

“Okay.” I had to know. I just had to know definitively.

“We’ll go get changed then and leave you to your job,” Arlie says with a hint of humour.

“Have a good time, you two.”

I intend to, now. I plan to drink to my heart’s content, then bang this man who has me so sexually frustrated. I’ve no choice but to put an end to this situation with a much-needed fuck fest. First, I must get drunk. Second, I must complete my mission. I’ve never had sex sober, and I’m not about to start with Arlie Blight.