Before I Ever Met You

“Because I wanted to annoy him,” I explain. I know my tone is starting to sound a bit defensive.

“I know. You're always wanting to piss him off and get under his skin and he does the exact same with you.”

“Yeah but you're describing everyone's relationship with Logan. He's the habut. The grump. Mr. Surly. Team Gruff.”

“Team Gruff?”

“Whatever. You know what I mean. I'm no different.”

“Uh huh.” She puts her hand out the window and starts waving it up and down over the passing air. “You say you know people when you've been working in this business, and I can say the same. Me, the rest of us, we like to bug Logan. But we don't go out of our way. We don't think about it. He's just our boss and he honestly occupies a really tiny space of my brain. I'm sure it's no different for anyone else. Anyone except you.”

“Oh, well,” I trail off. “I mean, he was married to my sister. He's family. So of course I might think of him more.”

“And vice versa. Because that man thinks a hell of a lot about you.”

Something flutters in my stomach. I swallow. “What can I say, I'm like his annoying kid sister.”

“Oh no,” she says. “There's nothing sisterly about the way he looks at you.”

More fluttering. A whole nest of birds is taking flight inside me.

“How does he look at me?”

She glances at me over her glasses. “And suddenly you want to know?” She lets out a dry laugh. “Next time, open your eyes a bit bigger and see the whole picture.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“You will.”

It has to be said. “Whatever it is that you’re trying to get at, don’t forget who he is. Juliet’s husband. My brother-in-law. Death be damned. And that would be—”

“Completely and morally wrong,” she finishes. “I know. And I know you both know it too. Which is why I’m not going to say anything else. No matter what happens, you’re both well aware of the consequences.”

The birds in my stomach have changed course, taking a nose dive. It feels like my heart is dropping with them.

Mercifully, Kate changes subjects, talking about our first luau of the year on Wednesday. It’s last minute and just for the guests, but in time it will get more and more popular. I know Johnny and I will have to hunker down with Charlie, maybe even Dan, and start planning the menu. There’s a lot to think about and when it comes to this traditional Hawaiian feast, I’m a noob.

Even so, the whole ride back to Moonwater I can’t help think about what Kate was getting at. As much as I like to pretend that my feelings for Logan are mild and easily squashed, a crush more than anything, the fact that she’s picking up on something says a lot. And it says even more that it’s coming from his side. If he were anyone else to me, I would be grilling her on everything about him, wanting every last detail: how does he look at me? What do you think it means? Has he said anything?

But he’s Logan. And that’s that. Anything else would be morally wrong.

Anything else would have consequences.

So I bury it.

Forget it.

And try to move on.





* * *



The days leading up to the luau crawled by. I didn’t see Logan much, which is both a good and a bad thing, other than him checking up on me as soon as I got back from the hospital. But even though he kept to himself, he passed down orders to Johnny and Charlie to not let me work. I protested, of course, and kept showing up at the start of my shift anyway. And they kept pushing me out of the kitchen—gently, I might add—telling me I needed to heal.

To be honest, I was kind of grateful for it. My body really did hurt from the accident and my mind was having a hard time slipping back into reality. But it wasn’t the trauma of nearly being swept away that had my brain all up in knots, it was what happened with Logan.

What could have happened. Kate told me to open my eyes, and now I was looking back on everything, dissecting every word, every touch, every gaze. Could Logan have feelings for me in the ways I never let myself imagine? How different are our interactions now compared to that moment we first met?

And like clockwork I would remind myself that nothing good could come of this. And in turn it made me want to think about him even more.

Tonight, though, it’s the luau. I finally got back to work yesterday and spent the whole day with Johnny and Charlie preparing the feast. We’ve got eleven guests signed up, way smaller than your average luau, but at least it’s something we can handle. All the side dishes are ready to go with only some reheating at the time of the feast, and of course there’s the whole kalua pig that we’re going to cook underground.

That’s all Johnny’s job. I’m watching and learning but he’s the pro here. My contribution was making traditional poi, which is basically mashed up taro root until it has a pudding consistency. I wanted so badly to sweeten the goop up, even with something like agave syrup, but Johnny chastised me for the thought. The purple white goop must be eaten as it is—bland and tasteless.

There’s an electricity crackling in the air tonight, and it’s not just the dark clouds that have gathered at the Na Pali Coast, burying the sunset and reducing it to streams of orange and red. All of us are helping out and a few of our on-call waitresses are on duty.

The grassy area beside the restaurant has been transformed into a tiki-styled paradise, with lit torches around the tables. There’s even a small band and a hula dancer.

Johnny, Charlie and I dish out the food, Big J cutting into the roasted pig with a pride I’d never seen before, and Daniel’s special Mai Tai punch starts making the rounds. The live music starts, giving us a moment to relax in the background, the three of us taking a seat at a small fold-out table behind the food as we watch.

It’s pretty magical. Not just because it’s my first luau, but because I finally feel at home. Daniel comes by and gives me a glass of the punch as the band plays a quiet number (oh who am I kidding, they’re all quiet numbers) and the hula dancer sways to the music. One of the members reads out the interpretation of the dance and I’m lost in the girl’s movement and grace.

“Do you know what the band is called?” Charlie whispers in my ear. “Three men and a Ukulele.” He pauses. “Wait, you’re old enough to remember that Tom Selleck film, right?”

I laugh. “Are you?”

“I thought it was Ted Danson,” Johnny says as Daniel hands him his glass. “Hey Danny Boy, you ever watch Cheers? Did Sam Malone make you want to be a bartender?”

“Are you kidding me?” Daniel says, thumbing the collar of his ever-present Hawaiian shirt, “I’m the tropical version of him.”