Before I Ever Met You

What a bunch of fucking saps we are. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

On the way back to Moonwater we stop by Juliet’s marker, the scene of the crash, taking great care as we park on the side of the road. We don’t have time for a vigil or even a few words – it’s a narrow, dangerous spot and you have to make it quick. But the two of us get out, hand in hand, and run over, laying down the lei, the headlights from the Jeep illuminating us. A soft rain is starting to fall.

Even though we don’t say anything out loud, I tell Juliet that I liked seeing her today, that I hope I’ll see her again, whale or not, and that I love her. Maybe just as family, in that deep-rooted way you can’t escape, but I love her all the same.

Then we head back to Moonwater, the place she helped create, and I vow to keep it going in her honor, and to one day make her proud.





18





“Ron, help! Help! I’m stuck.”

I’m already smiling at the sound of Kate’s panicked voice and look up from my bed to see her trying to walk across the apartment, in her underwear, a dress all bundled around her head, her arms caught inside at an uncomfortable angle.

“What did you do?” I ask, coming over to her and trying to yank it up over her head.

“I told you I don’t wear dresses,” she says, trying to twist her body away from me. I keep thinking I’m going to pull her arms out of her sockets.

“Just because you don’t wear dresses doesn’t mean you should be trapped in them every time.” I grunt, holding the sleeves and trying to yank it off. “It’s not rocket science. You put your head and arms where the holes are.”

“That’s what she said,” she mumbles and then suddenly she’s free and nearly falling backwards.

I avert my eyes politely because she’s topless, and shove the dress in her hands. “Anyway, I told you to borrow one of my dresses. They’re much bigger and you won’t get stuck.”

“Fine,” she says, waving her hand in my face. “Give me something.”

“Go put on a bra and we’ll talk.”

She grumbles as she turns around and heads back to her room.

It’s New Year’s Eve and we’re having the party of the century at the Ohana Lounge. Well, maybe not the century, or even the year, but definitely the month. It’s not just for staff either, there are guests here too. I’m just lucky I don’t have to cook – I convinced Logan to let me have the night off and to hire catering instead. Pupus for everyone.

Of course it didn’t take much convincing for Logan since he’s in love with me, which makes him a pretty shit boss these days. It’s been almost a month since we told each other how we felt and a month where we’ve managed to keep our relationship on the lowdown.

Even Kate is getting used to it. I think. At any rate, it’s brought us closer together since I’m in full-on “in love” mode and every single thing revolves around Logan, which means all I want to do is talk about him all day long and there’s no one else to confide in.

Actually that’s not true. Daniel for sure knows something is up, but he’s not saying a word and we don’t discuss it with each other either. But even when it comes to my friend Claire back at home, I’m still keeping Logan a secret.

To be honest, the sneaking around is getting a bit tiring. When we’re around each other at Moonwater we have to pretend to be on a strictly professional level, and when you’re constantly screwing and you’re in love, that gets really hard to hide. We’ve messed up on a few occasions but luckily no one has seemed to notice. The only time we can really be together, be ourselves, is at his house or in here if Kate isn’t around. She doesn’t mind that much that he sometimes comes over but I know she finds the whole thing weird, and so far we’ve been able to not act like a couple around her, just for her sake.

When Kate comes back in my room, she’s wearing a bra, so I give her a blue and white cocktail dress I picked up at Anthropologie before I moved here. It’s not exactly formal, but since Kate lives in board shorts and tank-tops, any dress will make her look like she’s going to the goddamn Oscars or something.

She slips it on – with ease this time – and sighs, hands on her hips. “Do I look dumb?”

“You look cute,” I tell her. “Charlie won’t know what hit him.”

“For the last time, I’m not kissing him at midnight,” she growls.

“Oh, then who are you kissing, because it ain’t Logan.”

“Phhhf, please, you couldn’t pay me to kiss that old man. His teeth would probably fall out in my mouth or something.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, then Daniel.”

“Nah, he’s kissing Nikki. If you’re wondering why no one has caught onto you and Logan, it’s because the coupling of Nikki and Danny Boy is going on. You’ll see tonight. It’s so obvious.”

“As obvious as you and Charlie?”

“Dude, shut it. Now put on your dress and finish getting all pretty so we can start drinking.”

Despite having a pineapple mimosa already while getting ready, I put on a simple black low-back maxi and the finishing touches on my makeup and some fresh plumeria flowers in my hair and then we’re off to the restaurant on this humid night.

Me, Nikki, and Kate spent the morning getting Ohana Lounge ready for the party, gold and black streamers all over the place, a silver countdown ball, plastic NYE hats, glasses and tiaras, plus the prerequisite noisemakers.

Our sound system still sucks and we’re going off a playlist, but that doesn’t matter because Dan is making his famous punch again, as well as a champagne based one, and the caterers have already set up their pupu platters everywhere.

We’re still some of the earliest people to arrive though. Johnny is over in the corner already inspecting the food.

And he’s wearing a fucking tuxedo.

“Oh my god, Johnny Cakes!” Kate squeals, hunching over and clapping her hands together. “Look at you!”

Johnny looks up from the tray of food and gives us a discerning look. “What? Can’t a brother dress up like James Bond every now and then?”

“Damn right he can,” I tell him. “Did you rent that or what?”

He smiles. “Nah, I had this for my brother’s wedding a few years ago. Luckily I’ve stayed fat this whole time so it still fits.”

“So how is the food?” I ask, nodding at it.

“Nowhere as good as our stuff. I told you we should have been the ones to make it.”

I pat him on the back. “Look, we’re allowed to have time off every now and then.”

He grumbles something and shoves some kind of miniature Spam roll in his mouth. “At least the Spam still tastes like Spam.”

Hawaiians and their Spam, I’ll never quite understand it.