Page 91 of Stuck in Paradise with You

‘Rock, paper, scissors?’

I stand and face him. ‘Three, two, one.’ I hold out my hand, as does he, and I take great pleasure in banging my rock against his scissors, then snatching my pastry back from him and moaning theatrically as my teeth sink into it.

Luke leans forward and I fear for my pastry, but he bypasses it and brings his mouth to my ear instead, whispering, ‘I’ve heard that sound before. I was well behaved last night but don’t tease me, Carrie.’

I’d be amazed if the people on the next island over couldn’t hear the depth of my swallow. I had better not tease him because if he pulls that move again, my own resolve will be seriously tested.

I’m not. Cannot. Under any circumstances, go there.Again.

I watch him move as he walks around the table, choosing the seat directly opposite mine to sit. I resume my place at the table, not daring to look at either Jenny or Ella.

The lightness of the morning among the group fades, though people are surprisingly upbeat as we work as a unit to clear pathways, chop down trees, tarpaulin holes in roofs, clear away sandbags and mop floors.

More than once, I wonder how bad the other islands must be if this hurricane-proof island has come out of the storm so badly. Joe’s right, it’s a mess, and it will take months, longer even, to regrow and to fix, but he can financially afford to put it right. The main structures are in one piece. His family has a home. There’ll be many families for whom the reality is very different.

That’s probably the version of events that will wind up on the news, so I keep checking for phone signal throughout the day. I need to get in touch with my mom, my dad and Callum, my boss too, but there’s nothing.

I’m trying again, standing on the pathway looking out at the dirty sea from the highest point of the island. Like someone out of a comedy sketch, I’m holding my phone as high as I can in the air, still not receiving any signal.

‘We’ve managed to make radio contact off island.’ Joe appears next to me. I’ve been so lost in wiggling my phone at the clouds that I didn’t hear him coming. ‘I’ve let them know who’s here and they’ll spread the word. They have your mom’s number to let her know you’re safe.’

In true Joe style, he’s wearing an outrageous sky-blue shirt that’s decorated with eye-wateringly bright flamingoes all overit. It hasn’t stopped him pulling his weight today, though. Joe is atypical in many respects. His lack of pretentiousness for a man so wealthy is probably the number one thing I like about him. Or liked, before he dragged me here under false pretenses, got me stuck here with my ex who broke my heart and for whom I am catching all the forbidden feelings again; oh yeah, and had me endure the fun of a category five hurricane.

Nevertheless, what he’s done is kind. ‘Thank you, I appreciate it. My mom has a fairly nervous disposition at the best of times. She’ll be worried sick about me.’

He nods. ‘Just so you know, I’m working on getting a chopper here for you. As soon as the airport is open on Tortola, we’ll get you home.’

‘Thank you.’

He pouts and wiggles his lips, tucking his hands into his pockets. The space around us feels awkward all of a sudden.

‘Do you have a minute?’ he asks, as if anyone ever says no to him.

But I do feel like saying no. Particularly because I suspect I know what the topic of this minute will be and I haven’t really put my mind to how I want to handle this whole false-imprisonment thing.

He walks to the edge of the pathway, the sun slowly beginning its descent in front of us, and when I follow, he asks, ‘Shall we take a load off?’ He comes to sit on the ground. ‘It’s been another long old day.’

‘It has,’ I agree, sitting next to him and crossing my legs in a way that looks like I’m meditating. It would be a good spot for it.

‘Thank you for all your help, before, during and after the storm. We all really appreciate it,’ Joe tells me. ‘You’re a massive hit with my family.’

I smile. ‘Well, they’re great. You have a truly beautiful family. While I’m here, I’m glad I can help. I want to. I’m sorry this hurricane happened to anyone.’

‘Let’s get to it, Carrie. Luke told you about my grand plan. I want to say, for the record, it was all well-intentioned but, as my wife told me before this week even began, I overstepped, and I’m sorry.’

‘Wow. I’m not sure I was expecting you to tackle it so directly and issue an apology right out of the traps.’

Joe snorts. Genuinely snorts. ‘I may be rich, Carrie, but I’m not a dick.Mostly.’

If someone had told me that a week ago, I probably would have said something like,Yeah, sure. But after getting to know Joe, I actually do believe him. He’s a good human.

I could let this whole thing slide. I probably should let his faux pas go. He’s one of the world’s wealthiest men and my firm’s biggest client. But I’d be letting myself down if I did.

‘Why did you do it, Joe?Howdid you do it? Does my firm know about Luke and me, our history? Is Rachel in on it?’

The sinking feeling of dread comes back to me as I imagine the fallout from all of this that’s awaiting me in New York.

‘Howis easy, so let’s start there,’ Joe says, picking up a stick and making marks in the ground as he speaks, the way a naughty child might do while being told off. ‘I’ve been a client of your firm for years and I like to know who is coming and going; it’s one of my arrangements with Rachel. When you joined eighteen months ago on the partnership track, I was told. I knew your name and job from Luke and I vaguely knew your face because I’ve seen pictures of you, so it wasn’t at all difficult to put two and two together.’

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