nails ripped a hole in my shirt.”
“Is it safe?” I grab a board try to wiggle it. It doesn’t budge.
“As far as I can tell.” You take a few more steps up and disappear through the square hole in the floor. A few seconds later, you appear leaning over the side of a railing. “Okay, hook the basket on to this, and I’ll haul it up. Can you make it up the ladder? I can come down and get you.”
“I can climb a ladder, Merrick. You’re the old man here. I’m only twenty-five.”
I can’t see you anymore, but I hear you laugh. As I reach up to grab hold of a board, you yell, “Watch out for snakes.”
I jerk my hand back to my chest. “Very funny. Now you might have to come down and get me.”
“How about I lower the hook? You can stick it in your pants and I’ll pull you up. I’d like to see you with a massive wedgie.”
“And somehow you’ve reverted to the humor of a fifth grader.” I start climbing, grinning hugely.
“I’m saving my fart jokes for later.”
“You’re sure you’re Merrick Rocha, the billionaire real estate god? I’m starting to think you’re an impersonator.” I reach the top and grab the floor through the opening. Your hands grasp my wrists, and you pull me up to my knees. You’re kneeling, and we’re face-to-face.
“I’m just Merrick, okay? Nothing else. Just a regular guy.”
I nod, but you’ll never be just a regular guy. Regular guys don’t buy islands with historic hotels on them. Regular guys don’t own helicopters and have their assistants fly in food to stock their kitchen. Regular guys don’t whisk women away—if that’s what we’re calling it.
We settle onto the red and green plaid blanket, and you open the basket. “Water, pasta salad, olives.” You pull each item out one at a time, taking lids off of plastic containers and setting them in the center between us. “Grilled rosemary chicken and chocolate, raspberry cake for dessert.”
I pop a green olive in my mouth. “When did you put all of this together?”
“I cooked a lot when we first got here.” You frown, busying your hands with napkins and silverware. “You slept for quite a while.” Your eyes find mine. “You slept so long, I was afraid I’d hurt you.”
A wave of anger rolls through me. “You said you’d never done that before—put something in a woman’s drink. How did you get it? How did you know how to use it?”
“A guy in the men’s room offered it to me for twenty bucks. I didn’t even think about it. I paid him, found you and bought you a drink. It seemed like the answer I’d been waiting for.”
I grit my teeth. “It wasn’t an answer.”
“I know that. It was stupid. Dangerous. I could’ve hurt you. If I’d given you too much…” Your hand flies to your head. Your fingers pull at your hair. “I was seconds from taking you to a hospital when you finally woke up.”
I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them. “I don’t believe you. How would you have explained what happened to me? You would’ve been arrested.”
Your eyes glaze over, glaring at me. “You think I’d let you die?”
I flinch. “I--”
“I gave you your phone. You can call 911 any time. I offered to take you home. Why would I do that if I was afraid of being arrested?” You jam a bottle of water back into the picnic basket. Plates rattle and clank. “I wouldn’t let you fucking die.” You voice is quiet, steel.
On your feet, you lean your elbows on the railing. Both hands run over your head, fingers gripping and sliding through your hair in frustration. “If I could go back to that night, I’d leave you alone and find a way to forget you. Nobody has ever distrusted me like you do. It’s eating away at me. I can’t fix it. I can’t make you forget. You’ll always think of me as the monster who abducted you.”
I swallow hard against the sob gathering in my throat. “You’re not a monster.”
You let out an indignant snort and pound your fists
“Is it safe?” I grab a board try to wiggle it. It doesn’t budge.
“As far as I can tell.” You take a few more steps up and disappear through the square hole in the floor. A few seconds later, you appear leaning over the side of a railing. “Okay, hook the basket on to this, and I’ll haul it up. Can you make it up the ladder? I can come down and get you.”
“I can climb a ladder, Merrick. You’re the old man here. I’m only twenty-five.”
I can’t see you anymore, but I hear you laugh. As I reach up to grab hold of a board, you yell, “Watch out for snakes.”
I jerk my hand back to my chest. “Very funny. Now you might have to come down and get me.”
“How about I lower the hook? You can stick it in your pants and I’ll pull you up. I’d like to see you with a massive wedgie.”
“And somehow you’ve reverted to the humor of a fifth grader.” I start climbing, grinning hugely.
“I’m saving my fart jokes for later.”
“You’re sure you’re Merrick Rocha, the billionaire real estate god? I’m starting to think you’re an impersonator.” I reach the top and grab the floor through the opening. Your hands grasp my wrists, and you pull me up to my knees. You’re kneeling, and we’re face-to-face.
“I’m just Merrick, okay? Nothing else. Just a regular guy.”
I nod, but you’ll never be just a regular guy. Regular guys don’t buy islands with historic hotels on them. Regular guys don’t own helicopters and have their assistants fly in food to stock their kitchen. Regular guys don’t whisk women away—if that’s what we’re calling it.
We settle onto the red and green plaid blanket, and you open the basket. “Water, pasta salad, olives.” You pull each item out one at a time, taking lids off of plastic containers and setting them in the center between us. “Grilled rosemary chicken and chocolate, raspberry cake for dessert.”
I pop a green olive in my mouth. “When did you put all of this together?”
“I cooked a lot when we first got here.” You frown, busying your hands with napkins and silverware. “You slept for quite a while.” Your eyes find mine. “You slept so long, I was afraid I’d hurt you.”
A wave of anger rolls through me. “You said you’d never done that before—put something in a woman’s drink. How did you get it? How did you know how to use it?”
“A guy in the men’s room offered it to me for twenty bucks. I didn’t even think about it. I paid him, found you and bought you a drink. It seemed like the answer I’d been waiting for.”
I grit my teeth. “It wasn’t an answer.”
“I know that. It was stupid. Dangerous. I could’ve hurt you. If I’d given you too much…” Your hand flies to your head. Your fingers pull at your hair. “I was seconds from taking you to a hospital when you finally woke up.”
I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them. “I don’t believe you. How would you have explained what happened to me? You would’ve been arrested.”
Your eyes glaze over, glaring at me. “You think I’d let you die?”
I flinch. “I--”
“I gave you your phone. You can call 911 any time. I offered to take you home. Why would I do that if I was afraid of being arrested?” You jam a bottle of water back into the picnic basket. Plates rattle and clank. “I wouldn’t let you fucking die.” You voice is quiet, steel.
On your feet, you lean your elbows on the railing. Both hands run over your head, fingers gripping and sliding through your hair in frustration. “If I could go back to that night, I’d leave you alone and find a way to forget you. Nobody has ever distrusted me like you do. It’s eating away at me. I can’t fix it. I can’t make you forget. You’ll always think of me as the monster who abducted you.”
I swallow hard against the sob gathering in my throat. “You’re not a monster.”
You let out an indignant snort and pound your fists
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