Last Call (Cocktail #5) (11 page)

“A little, yeah,” he admitted.

“And the rib?” I asked.

“Rib?”

“You cracked a rib, and a bunch more are bruised,” I said.

“I did?”

My eyes widened. “How much do you remember?”

“All of it. At least, I think I do,” he said, his eyes searching as he remembered. “Oh yeah, I bet I did crack a rib.”

“You tell me everything that happened. Right now,” I said, reaching for his hand and holding it tightly. “And don’t you dare leave anything out.”

He told me about the incredible cave and the scale of photographing such an amazing natural space. And of the rickety bamboo structure he used to scramble over to get his motherfucking photos. And the fact that he was hurrying to get the last bit of light before they had to move on to another shot. And the fact that he was not entirely secured into the safety harness he’d agreed to wear. And the fact that he tumbled ass over camera more than fifty feet down the side of a limestone cliff, knocking himself out in the process, and bringing down most of the scaffolding with him. He remembered falling, he remembered hitting the floor of the cave, and he remembered he’d saved the camera from any serious damage. Unbelievable. He also remembered how sure he was that he’d gotten the shot. Double unbelievable.

My tears had started again somewhere during the story, and now I sat next to him on the bed, holding his hand tightly and refusing to look anywhere but directly
at him. Taking in his face, his hands, his arms, his legs, his toes twitching underneath the hospital blanket. I touched him wherever I could, wherever he didn’t have a bruise or a cut, which didn’t give me a lot of space to work with. But I held him as best as I could, and I stroked his hair lightly and I kissed between the scrapes and I told him how much I loved him. I couldn’t help it. And in between it all, with me comforting him, he of course held on to me as tightly as he could. Whispering words like, “I’m okay, babe,” and, “Everything’s going to be fine,” and, “Don’t cry.”

The
don’t cry
tipped me over the edge. Because now, with him in my arms as much as he could be, I was finally feeling everything I’d fought to keep at bay. My panic, my terror, my helplessness, my horror at going through life without him next to me, cracking jokes and copping a feel.

“I could kill you, you know,” I said suddenly, breaking free of his hold and sitting back to look at him in the eye. “Seriously. I love you, and I love what you do, and I would never ask you to give it up. But you’re not a cartoon superhero, with a devil-may-care smile on your face as you wrestle fucking lions before lunch, just to get the shot. Okay? If you ever do something like this again, get hurt because you’re getting the fucking shot, I will kill you myself,” I said, pointing my finger. “Without pain meds.”

“I promise, I’ll be more careful,” he said, telling me what I wanted to hear, but also promising me with his eyes that he was taking what I said seriously.

“I love you so much,” I said, threading my fingers through his, still needing the contact.

“I love you too,” he said, his voice becoming thick as the fresh round of pain meds kicked in. “So glad you’re here.”

“Eh, I wanted to come back here anyway. Maybe we could go spelunking?”

He chuckled, which made his ribs hurt, but he continued to smile. Which made me finally smile.

B
y the end of that very long day, which started for me on the other side of the world, Simon was feeling much better. By the end of that week, Simon was released from the hospital. The guy was born under some kind of lucky star. He had to continue to take it easy, with lots of rest and light activity, but he was cleared for release. The doctors recommended that we stay for at least another few days before attempting to fly home. Flying after sustaining a concussion, especially one as severe as the one Simon had, could prove uncomfortable at best. Seizures and nausea at worst, so I made the decision to stay over as long as we needed to, making sure he was up to such a long flight.

After spending that first night in the city, I hired a driver and took him away to recuperate. There was an island we’d explored one afternoon the last time we’d been to Ha Long Bay, and I’d been fascinated by the accommodations
there. A tiny hotel, remote and isolated. More of a collection of luxury bungalows than a hotel, it offered the kind of piece and quiet we needed. Each bungalow was situated on the beach, with gorgeous sea views all around. There were sumptuous beds, complete with requisite mosquito netting, European-style bathrooms, and twenty-four-hour room service. The drive was only a few hours, followed by a short boat cruise to the hotel.

When we docked, I helped to make sure the luggage was carried straight to our bungalow, and we headed inside to get checked in.

“This is incredible, babe, but unnecessary. We could have stayed in the city, wouldn’t have been a problem.”

“I realize that, Simon, but since we were here, your very dramatic accident and all, I thought we’d treat ourselves a little bit. Have a few days of rest and relaxation before heading back home.”

“A prehoneymoon honeymoon?” he said, bumping my hips with his own, his hands resting lightly on my waist.

“Something like that.” I smiled, but shook my head. “But no honey with this moon; you heard the doctor,” I said, and Simon growled. He had delicately suggested that certain things should wait perhaps until Simon had fully recovered from his accident. Between the cracked rib and the head dent, I was in full agreement. Simon was not.

“You wait and see. Tonight, when the breeze starts
blowing and the waves start lapping at the sand, you’ll change your mind,” he murmured, sweeping my hair up to kiss the back of my neck. “Besides, you know I look good in the moonlight. You’ll be all about getting into my pants.”

“Uh, yes, here are your keys, Miss Reynolds.” I felt Simon tense behind me as I smiled at the desk clerk.

“Yes, thank you so much.” I smiled, smothering a laugh.

“You’ll be in bungalow seven; just follow the path. Your luggage should already be there.”

“Thank you,” Simon piped up from behind me, and this time I didn’t smother anything. Gathering up my purse and the keys, I took him by the hand and led him back out onto the beach. It was late in the afternoon, almost evening, and the light was beginning to change, taking on that magical glow that twilight seems to have. All the edges soften, the colors bleed, and even the air changes a bit. A warm breeze was blowing in off the sea, bringing with it a salty tang that crinkled my tongue. We passed six other bungalows along the rock-lined path, finally coming around a bend to see our own. Lit with hurricane candles, with white linen curtains puffing through the windows, it looked like heaven. Heaven . . . with the option of air-conditioning. Which in the tropics was sometimes a very good thing.

“Hey look, no neighbors,” Simon said, scanning the corner of the beach we’d been given. It was true, there wasn’t another soul to be seen. A light or two peeked through the trees here and there, hinting at other humans, but other than that it was us and the waves.

“Let’s check it out,” I said, tugging him by the hand and up onto the porch. Deep, comfy-looking chairs anchored by pillows flanked the ornately carved front door. “Here’s the key, open it, would you? I’m going to see if these chairs are as comfortable as they look.”

“Sure thing,” he said, taking the key from me and turning it in the lock. Just before he pushed open the door, it opened from the inside. “What the—”

Benjamin stood in the doorway. Jillian stood next to him. Both were smiling.

“Wait a minute, how did you guys get—What’s going on?” he asked, looking back and forth between them and me. I just grinned.

“Good to see you’re still in one piece,” Benjamin said, pulling a still-surprised Simon into a fierce hug. “And don’t ever do that to me again, you hear me?”

“Move over, move over,” Jillian said, sweeping her husband aside to grab on to Simon and wrap her arms around him as well. “So, so, so glad you’re okay. No more caves, promise me that!”

“Hey, watch the ribs,” Simon protested, confused but still happy to see them. “But seriously, what are you guys doing here?”

“We came over to make sure Caroline had everything she needed. She kind of took off like a bat out of hell when she found out you’d decided to examine the cave with your face. That’s a bossy girl you got there,” Benjamin said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and walking him back down the steps to the sand. “Come on back with me to our bungalow; we’re just down the beach, I’ll tell you all about it. Let the ladies settle in a bit.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Caroline, you good with that?” Simon asked, still curious.

“Go ahead, Jillian brought me some things, new changes of clothes and stuff. I’ll powwow with her and then we can all head back up to the main house for dinner, sound good?” I nodded, walking over to the front of the porch, leaning down to kiss him once, then twice.

“Sounds good, babe,” he said. “Did you know they were coming?”

“I did,” I said, kissing him once more. “Surprise.”

“You’re kind of terrific, you know that?”

“I do know that,” I nodded, then turned him back around. “Go play with Benjamin, I’ll see you in a bit.”

The pair of them walked off down the beach, and I turned to Jillian.

“Thank you so much for coming all this way.”

“You got it. I’ve always wanted to see this part of the world. And Benjamin has been pacing up a storm. He hated not being over here,” she replied, looping her arm
through mine and walking with me inside. She handed me an overnight bag I recognized from home.

“Did you bring it?” I asked, unzipping the bag.

“I did,” she nodded, and watched as I pulled a long flowing dress from the bag. A long flowing
white
dress.

“Perfect.”

A
n hour later, Simon and Benjamin came out of the bungalow to find Jillian and me waiting for them.

“Hey, where have you—Hey. You look gorgeous,” he said, whistling. I stood before him in my white dress, thanked him for the compliment, took his hand, and walked with him down to the beach, leaving our friends behind.

“What’s going on? Aren’t we going to dinner with those guys?” he asked.

“Not just yet,” I answered, looking ahead to the beach, where I could see a few candles lit and a tiki torch or two. “I wanted to talk to you, before they join us.”

“What are you up to, Caroline?” he asked, looking carefully at me.

“I bought this dress a year ago in a little boutique in Mendocino, when I was visiting Viv. I was on my way out of town, and I was stopped at a light when I saw it in the window across the street. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. And without having any reason to wear it, and not a clue why I was doing it, I bought it, straight off
the mannequin. It didn’t even fit me. I had to take it to a tailor to have the hem lengthened; it was too short for me. The tailor told me it was vintage, probably from sometime in the 1930s.”

“It looks great on you,” he said, holding me at arm’s length to get a better look. “Go on, gimme a little twirl.”

I laughed, and then twirled. The dress was ivory, bedecked with old lace along the bodice, with a gauzy lace overlay along the skirt. An afternoon dress, it was made for lazy strolls in town, or a trip to the gardens. It was likely worn with stockings and lace-up shoes. I was rocking it barefoot. And in those bare feet, I tugged on his hand once more and continued on the path toward the beach.

“When Benjamin told me something had happened to you, I went into crisis-management mode. I didn’t think about anything other than getting to you. To have you that far away, and not be able to know exactly what was wrong or how to help you—I can’t think of the words to tell you how that felt. How it felt to have someone you love so much possibly taken away from you.” I stopped then, just before the pebbles gave way to sand. “But then, I don’t have to give you words. Because you already know what that’s like.”

A stormy expression stole across his face, and he grasped both of my hands in his. “Caroline, I’m so sorry that you had to go through all of that.”

“No no, it’s actually fine,” I said, stepping into his arms and bringing them around my waist. “Because
here’s the thing. I had hours in an airplane, with nothing to do and no one to talk to, and the only thing I could think about was you. And us. And how much I love you.” I walked him, pushed him really, backward through the sand. “I also thought a lot about something else.”

“What’s that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Garlic foam,” I answered, then spun him to face the beach.

I love me a speechless Wallbanger.

Hundreds of candles. Tiki torches dancing as far as the eye could see. Lanterns in shades of violet, indigo, emerald, and ruby bumping around on the breeze. The evening breakers splashing lazily against the beach. In the distance, an early moon lit up Ha Long Bay, with its ancient islands and peaks covered in mist and moss. And before us? An aisle lined with votives . . . with Jillian and Benjamin standing at the end of it. Along with them, the Vietnamese equivalent of a justice of the peace.

“Marry me, Simon. Marry me right here, right now, without any bullshit. Marry me, with just our two friends to see it happen. No parents, no work friends, no clients, no peppercorn-encrusted blah-blah, just you and me and the stars. I spent a night in a pod wondering if I was ever going to see your eyes staring back at me again, and I can’t manage that again unless I’m your fucking wife. And I don’t give one tiny shit about a big fancy wedding, especially without you getting to have
your garlic foam. Which, I’d like to point out, is waiting for you back in the main house, for what I hope is our wedding dinner of giant prawns. I want you, only you, for the rest of my life,” I said, lips trembling but knees strong. “Marry me, Simon.”

He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting as he looked around at the fairy tale laid out in front of him. The fairy tale that was exactly right for
us
. On this very important day.

“One question,” he said, lifting our clasped hands to his lips and placing a kiss right below my engagement ring.