Before I Ever Met You

When I brought Ron back to Kauai, I wasn’t sure how she was going to adapt. Being with me, a part of this, would she want to keep her role in the Ohana Lounge? Would she want to concentrate on hotel management, was she burned out?

But she loves it more than ever. She’s head cook alongside Johnny, a title they share, and while she’s helping out with Moonwater as a whole—after all, this is her hotel now—I don’t think her passion for cooking will ever change. When I brought up the idea of her taking the position of chef and running the restaurant and having Johnny and Charlie officially under her, she balked at it. I think once upon a time she just wanted to have the title and respect. Now she has the respect and doesn’t need the title.

But we’ll see. The woman is ambitious. If she runs with it one day, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few Ohana Lounges open up across the islands.

Speaking of, where the bloody hell is she?

“Now you must be nervous,” Kit says, nudging me in the side.

“Nah, mate,” I tell him. “Just want to get this over with. You know I don’t like being the center of attention.”

“Never too late to run for the hills.”

I cock my brow at him. “One day, Kit. One day you’ll know.”

“You knew it twice,” he says with a smirk. “I think I balance you out.”

I ignore that. When I told Veronica once that Kit was a bit of a Croc Dundee character, I wasn’t stretching the truth. He does have this overt machoism about him, the kind who will hike into the jungle to wrestle snakes and crocodiles. I know the tour he leads is borderline illegal because of the shit he puts his customers through but he’s charming and all that bullshit, so he gets away with it. He may be scared of the ladies but I’m telling you, no lady wants to cuddle up to a bloke who spends his days looking for reptiles.

“Here they are,” Johnny says, the bridesmaids turn the corner and head toward us, flowers in their hands. Because we had an uneven number of girls and guys, and no parents on either side, we decided that the girls should just all arrive together, like a “squad,” as Kate described it.

Kate and Nikki, dressed in strapless Hawaiian dresses that match the guy’s shirts, take their place on the other side of me. I give them a wink.

And then a hush comes over the crowd, a nervous tittering.

The ukuleles and guitars from the band start to play, strumming the Hawaiian version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

I can’t bloody believe it. What a funny, lovely, bitch life can be, that this is happening at all.

And then Veronica appears, rounding the corner of the restaurant, coming across the grass with her friend Claire on her arm.

She’s beyond beautiful.

She’s the sunrise, the moonrise, all four points of my compass.

She’s every gorgeous moment in my life all rolled into one.

And she’s mine.

“Hi Freckles,” I say to her softly, trying to keep my emotions in check. The tears keep wanting to creep up there but I’ll be damned if I cry in front of my brother.

“Hi old man,” she teases. She grins, her cheeks glowing with the sun and blush, her actual freckles making her look fresh as a morning wave. Her caramel-colored hair is pinned back with plumeria, her white dress long and gauzy, like she’s a Grecian goddess, on earth for just one day.

But I know she’s here for more than that.

She’s here for now and forever.

Betty clears her throat and starts the ceremony as I grab onto Veronica’s hands, holding her tight.

This is it.

This moment is the beginning.





* * *



Later that night, after the food and the cake (which Veronica baked herself—coconut, macadamias, and chocolate), while the guests are still dancing and the music is blaring and the drinks are flowing, I take Veronica’s hand and lead her to the beach where we had our first surf lesson.

We settle down in the sand, the bottle of champagne between us, watching as the moon rises up over Moonwater Inn. The ocean is bathed in silver, our bodies glimmer in the dark. We look like immortals. I feel immortal.

“Look,” Veronica whispers, bringing my attention back to the horizon.

A humpback whale is surfacing, its breath shooting high into the air like a feathery plume. We watch in awe as it dives, its back illuminated by the moonlight, gleaming.

Its massive fluke disappears into the waves and then it’s gone.

We wait with bated breath, expecting it to come back, for others to be with it.

But that’s it.

And it was enough.

THE END