Patchwork Paradise(20)

Cleo gently let go of me, and Imran hugged me and patted me hard on the back. Everyone said a few words after that, apart from Thomas, who looked too choked up to say anything at all. I pulled the white velvet pouch from my pocket and let the heavy platinum rings slide into my palm. For a fraction of a second I considered throwing them in the water, but I didn’t. I’d have them turned into a necklace. Something simple and elegant, with maybe an infinity sign or something. I ran my thumb over the smooth metal of the smaller ring. I’d never tried it on. And I never would.

We stood at the water for a while longer. By the time we left, I felt oddly . . . cleansed. I even suggested going out for drinks that night, and everyone perked up—apart from Thomas, who remained subdued all night. Regardless of his near-silence, he pulled a pretty girl called Marjory and ended up bringing her home with us.

We drank more wine on the balcony—Thomas staying safely against the wall—until I was too tired to keep my eyes open. This day hadn’t gone the way I wanted. In a different world, I’d be alone with Sam now. We’d retreat to our bedroom, where we’d make love as husband and husband, till death do us part. The death part wasn’t supposed to come first, but I could do nothing but go on, one foot in front of the other.





I couldn’t sleep, which was turning into a habit. Foreign bed, no one beside me. Too much strong coffee in the afternoon with added wine in the evening, resulting in a full bladder. That was why I heard the noise and crept out of my room to peer over the balcony leading to the stairs. I couldn’t see much at first, but I heard something again, so I stayed where I was until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I didn’t think anyone was breaking in, but maybe someone else was suffering from insomnia. We could keep each other company.

Making sure I trod carefully on the creaky landing so I didn’t wake anyone else, I eased along, barefoot and wearing nothing but my boxers, and looked down into the kitchen. No one. I shuffled the other way so I could see the couch tucked away from the huge windows. And what I saw took my breath away.

Marjory was straddling Thomas, both of them buck naked, their hair hanging loose and sweaty over their backs. She moved sensuously, slowly, guided by his large hands—dark against her alabaster skin—and I saw his cock disappear into her. His thighs flexed. I couldn’t see his face because he was kissing her, but I heard him moan. I saw how his knees trembled slightly. I saw how his hands gripped her waist, her back, her butt. He pushed deeper, and she sighed into his mouth. His cock reappeared and the condom around it glistened. He kissed her harder, cupping her head as he bent her backward. His hair swung over his left shoulder and his neck was bared to me, oddly vulnerable.

Something sharp and unwelcome pierced my gut. I pressed my hand to my mouth and stepped back so I could lean against the wall out of sight. Why were my eyes stinging? Because they were so beautiful together? Because I’d never feel that way again? I inhaled a shuddery gasp and waited, but they hadn’t heard me. Heartsore and shaken, I sneaked into my room again. I didn’t sleep until dawn.

Marjory stuck around for the entirety of the next day. She was lovely and fun and had an accent to die for. I must’ve given her the impression I didn’t like her, because every time I looked at her, all I saw was her naked body perched on top of Thomas. I could barely talk to her without turning scarlet.

“What’s the matter with you?” Cleo snapped under her breath when we stood by the kayak-rental hut. The others were distracted with packing away their phones and wallets, and I’d been fiddling with a life vest that was too big.

“What? What do you mean?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think grief has turned you straight and you’re crushing on Thomas’s date.”

“I— He— No!” I grabbed her arm and dragged her to the side of the hut. The guy renting out the kayaks gave us an odd look, but he’d proven solidly he didn’t speak a lick of Flemish, so I didn’t care about him overhearing us. “I caught them, okay? Last night. On the couch. Doing it.”

Cleo’s mouth turned into a perfect O as her eyes widened. “No way! Oh my God, what did he say?”

“Huh? What did who say?”

“Thomas! When you saw him!” she said, as if I were slow.

“They didn’t see me. I turned and ran back to my room as soon as I realized what was going on.” Not entirely true. “But now all I can see when I look at her are . . .” I made an awkward cupping motion with my hands in front of my own chest. “And . . .” I repeated the move, but lower.

Cleo started to laugh. And she couldn’t stop. And then she was clutching her knees, bent over, wheezing for breath.

“It’s not funny,” I hissed.

“What’s not funny?”

I spun around and stood nose to chest with Thomas in his life vest. He was trying to look past me at Cleo. “I’m afraid of drowning,” I blurted out, and his sincere, dark gaze landed on my face. Oh God, why had I said that?

“That’s nothing to laugh about, Cleo,” Thomas said gravely. He put his hand on my shoulder. “You and I can get a canoe and we’ll go in together. I used to be a lifeguard in high school. I promise you’ll be fine.”

Behind me Cleo made a distressed noise, a sound I imagined might come from a dying seagull.