Before I Ever Met You

He grins at me and smacks my ass. “That can be arranged. I’ll see you, Freckles.”


I watch as he walks down the road, past the rooster strutting parallel to him in the red dirt between the asphalt of the road and the stiff grass of the bordering properties. Large banana leaves and palm trees sway in the humid breeze, the hazy mountains rising high in front of him. I feel like the moment is going to be ingrained in my head forever, the moment where I realized that Logan has a big, big piece of my heart.

And I’m pretty sure he always did.

I literally can’t stop smiling. I turn and cut through a narrow path, bright green leaves and blooms in purple, red and yellow, pulling at my hair until I spill out onto the beach. With the golden white sand and the crystal clear waves crashing feet away onto the lava rocks, I throw my hands up into the air and grin at the sky, breathing in deep.

All this time. All this waiting. And now Logan wants to be mine in the way I always wanted to be his.

Almost.

But I shut that thought down. It has no place in today and it shouldn’t have any place in the days after this. I’ve spent too long worrying and caring about what everyone else thinks of me. What we have is worth more than that.

So I do something relatively crazy. Though the waves are strong at the reef, I come to the spot where I had my surfing lesson with Charlie before Logan took over. It feels so long ago and that feeling, that pure joy of riding my first waves, feels like nothing now compared to what Logan and I shared last night.

I can’t help but laugh, gleeful and childish, like I’m a little girl again, then I run straight for the water, jumping in with my dress on. The water feels like a bath tub, such a vivid aquamarine that even a painter couldn’t duplicate it. I swim out a little bit, enough so that my feet are still touching the bottom, and stare back at the resort, my home, a place I never ever want to leave.

I’m buoyant – in the water, in spirit, in my heart.

But I don’t push my luck. You never do with the ocean, I know that by now. As quickly as I splashed in, I trudge out of the water and head over to the hotel, passing Nikki as I do so who gives me the once over, a mug of coffee in her hand.

“Did you go swimming in your dress?” she asks, looking me over.

I shrug. “The ocean called to me, what can I say.”

“Did you see the whales this morning?”

“Whales?” Humpback whales arrived this month to the islands and its always been a dream of mine to see them. In fact, it was the one thing that Juliet and I bonded over as children. When she was ten, she was obsessed with becoming a marine biologist. That was the last that I remember her really being a kid – after that she seemed to grow up so quick. And naturally, wanting to be just like her, I started loving whales and other marine mammals too. But by the time I graduated onto sharks, Juliet had moved onto something else, leaving me in the cold.

“Yeah they were just out there,” she nods at the shore, “breaching and everything.” She adjusts the brim of her bright pink trucker hat and looks at me. “By the way, what happened to you last night? You just disappeared.”

I try not to smile. “I went to bed early. Turkey coma.”

She seems to buy that and pushes out her belly in a vain effort to be relatable. “I feel you on that. It was awesome though,” she adds quickly. “Your mashed yams are a million times better than my grandma’s mashed potatoes that’s for sure.”

I take the compliment with thanks and hurry back to my room to take a proper shower, all the while my eyes going over the grounds, looking to see if I can spot Logan already. Even though we’ve been apart for, oh, I don’t know, twenty-minutes, I already have that itching need to see him again, like a junkie seeking her high. It’s ridiculous and I don’t even care that it’s ridiculous.

Luckily I have work to distract me and I head into the kitchen earlier than I should, an hour before Johnny is supposed to show up.

Since I started working at Moonwater, I’ve had some creative input in the dishes and a few of them have really taken off. But I haven’t had that kind of urge that used to plague me when I was a struggling chef-to-be. There’s something to be said about the monotony of being a line cook that really gets your mind and heart wandering, dreaming about what kind of dishes you’d be serving and making if the restaurant was yours.

Here, I have the freedom and yet, until today, I haven’t really felt the urge. Maybe because moving here has been such a distraction, maybe because I just haven’t felt that creative push. After all, it’s taken me nearly two months now to really get into the swing of things and know the job and the food and the people.

But with knowledge comes confidence. And with happiness comes creativity. As I stand in the kitchen, taking a look at all our ingredients, glancing over the menu, I can feel everything come together with one jab of inspiration.

I’m thinking about Logan and how hard he’s had to work to get this hotel up and running. I’m thinking about the hardships he’s had to face with Juliet gone. I’m thinking about Juliet and the pride she must have taken in Moonwater, even if she took none in her marriage. I’m thinking about the way Logan looked at me last night, the way he looked at me this morning, the way it felt to have him inside me, wanting me in every single way. I’m thinking about my family here, how people have my back for maybe the first time ever.

All of those feelings are boiling to the surface and there’s only one way for me to express it. I need to create something that would please everyone, that would bring us all together. I need to make Moonwater’s signature dish, something a bit salty, spicy, sweet. Something that tickles all the senses and makes eating the pleasure that it should be.

I get to work. I don’t even think, I just run off of this creative juice that’s replaced my blood. I think of plumeria flowers and creamy sand beaches and salty-breezes and the freshest fish. I think of eating fruit; fresh mango from the stands in Hanalei, the juices running down my arms and pulling over in Charlie’s truck to buy green coconuts that you drink from the shell. I think of humpback whales frolicking off shore, happy to be alive in these warm waters, thriving under the sun.

By the time Johnny comes in for his shift, I’m done and staring at the plate with a discerning eye, not sure if what I created is total garbage or not.

“Aye, Ronnie,” Johnny says, grabbing his apron off the wall. “You’re here early. What are you doing?”

“Honestly I don’t know,” I answer absently, still searching the dish for some sign that it’s edible.

“Is that Mahi Mahi?” he asks, bending down to sniff it. “My god, that smells amazing. What did you do?” He’s practically salivating.

“Try it,” I tell him.

He purses his lips together, frowning. “Is it laced with arsenic?”