Lost in Paradise Page 11

  Nicole’s kiss grounded her. She was safe here in this bed, in Nicole’s arms, tethered to life by this incredible person she would never even have dreamed of meeting a week ago. She held on to her with both hands, tears on her cheeks and an avalanche of emotion tearing through her mind. They’d both be on their way home soon enough, Nicole to New York and Fiona to France. Until then, she couldn’t bring herself to let her go. “Stay.”

  11

  They ate hospital food together on the tray over Fiona’s bed—fish and mixed vegetables with bread and some kind of pudding in little cups. Nicole thought it was one of the best meals she’d ever eaten, although she was probably just starved for real food. Fiona grumbled about hating seafood, only picking at her meal, but she was still feverish, which was probably the real reason she wasn’t hungry.

  The nurses seemed pleased with her response to the antibiotics, though, so Nicole was finally able to stop worrying about her. Fiona was going to be okay. They were really and truly safe.

  They laughed as they ate, wiggling their toes together beneath the sheets, and Nicole felt happier than she could remember feeling pretty much…ever. She knew she had some stuff to sort out and that Fiona had demons of her own, but she was determined to keep this connection between them. It was way too important to risk losing. After lunch, a nurse came in to check on Fiona and showed Nicole how to help her take a shower.

  “I feel so much better,” Fiona said as she crawled back into bed, fresh and clean, her hair hanging long and wet down her back.

  Nicole settled next to her with a smile. “Good enough to turn forty?”

  Fiona scrunched her nose. “Did I really blubber about that last night?”

  Nicole couldn’t contain her laugh. “You did. So when’s the big day?”

  “Not until September, and it’s not a big day. I have no idea why I even mentioned it.” She turned her face toward the ceiling.

  Nicole wrapped an arm around her. “You were scared.”

  “I was delirious.”

  “Maybe a little of both.” Nicole gave her a gentle squeeze. She was exhausted, and Fiona must be even more so. They fell asleep together, arms around each other, holding on for dear life.

  A knock at the door startled Nicole awake. Fiona blinked at her, blue eyes bleary but clear, alert. Her skin felt cool. Her fever had broken. It was amazing how quickly the antibiotics had kicked in, and Nicole was so thankful for it, she could cry.

  A frown tugged at Fiona’s lips as she turned her head toward the door. “Come in.”

  It pushed open, and Nicole’s parents entered the room, and oh my God, she’d almost forgotten they were on their way. She really had meant to offer to keep them out of Fiona’s room. Now that they were here and she saw the tense, guarded expression in Fiona’s eyes, she wished she had.

  Nicole pushed herself quickly out of bed. “Mom, Dad…” Tears spilled over her eyelids as she rushed toward them, as if the sight of them had triggered the emotions she’d worked so hard to hold at bay the whole time they were lost, the fear that they wouldn’t get home, that she’d never see her family again, that they’d have to bury her or, worse, live the rest of their lives never knowing what had happened to her. “It’s so good to see you.”

  In response, her mother burst into tears, clutching Nicole against her chest while her father stood there, nervously stroking her hair. “We were so worried,” her mom sobbed.

  “I know.” She gulped, trying to pull herself back together.

  “I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through,” her dad said, abandoning all pretense of restraint and joining in the hug.

  “First, they told us your boat had been taken hostage, and then they told us you weren’t even on it…that you were somehow lost at sea…” Another sob racked her mother.

  “It’s been, well, it was quite an adventure anyway.” Nicole glanced over at Fiona, saw her sitting there alone in bed, arms crossed over her chest, eyes deliberately cast toward the window, and her chest caved in on itself. Was anyone going to come here to visit her? Would her father?

  Nicole’s mom followed her gaze, turning toward Fiona. She wiped the tears from her face and smiled. “And you must be Fiona. I’m Michelle, Nicole’s mom, and this is my husband, Anthony.”

  “Hello,” Fiona said politely, a warm—if slightly stiff—smile on her face.

  But Nicole’s mom was already closing in on her, pulling her in for a hug, and Fiona’s eyes went comically round as they met Nicole’s from across the room.

  “She’s British, Mom,” Nicole said with a laugh. “They don’t really hug like we do, I don’t think.”

  “Everyone needs a hug after going through an ordeal like this,” Michelle said, releasing Fiona, who slumped back in bed, her cheeks suspiciously pink.

  Nicole retreated to the bed and sat beside her, sliding her hand into Fiona’s. And that was when it hit her, the difference between dating a man and a woman. Nicole’s parents had just walked in on her and Fiona in bed together, saw them now holding hands, and thought absolutely nothing of it simply because Fiona was female.

  Well, she’d have that conversation with them later, because no matter how things played out with Fiona, Nicole was going to embrace her sexuality from here on out.

  Her parents sat on either side of the bed, and she and Fiona gave them the sex-free version of the events that had unfolded over the past week, while her mom and dad gasped and cried and freaked out all over again knowing just what exactly she’d been through.

  Naturally, they’d brought food—fresh pizzelle from a stand in Italy. The Italian waffle cookies were one of Nicole’s top favorite foods, and these were possibly the best ones she’d ever tasted. “These are so freaking good,” she said around a mouthful, drawing an amused glance from Fiona, who ate hers much more delicately.

  “I know they’re your favorite,” Michelle said. “As soon as we heard you’d been found, we booked the first flight to Greece, and then I found a place to stop and buy these for you.”

  “Reasons why you’re the best mom on the planet.” Nicole leaned over to plant a kiss on her mother’s cheek.

  “When are they letting you out of here?” her dad asked.

  “I’m not in here,” Nicole said. “But Fiona has to stay a few days, and I’m staying with her.”

  “That’s so sweet,” her mom said. “You two really bonded out there, didn’t you?”

  Fiona lowered her eyes, wiping at a pizzella crumb on her cheek.

  “Yeah, we did.” Nicole reached for her hand and gave it another squeeze.

  “Being lost at sea like that, I can’t even imagine.” Michelle shook her head. “You look exhausted, sweetie,” she said to Fiona.

  “I’m fine,” Fiona said, but the dark smudges under her eyes told a different story.

  “Twelve hours ago, she was so sick, she collapsed on the beach,” Nicole said. “Scared the life out of me.”

  Fiona chewed her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the shift in the conversation.

  Michelle patted her hand. “We should let you rest.”

  “You should go with them,” Fiona said, giving Nicole a meaningful look. “Go out for a bit. I could use a nap, like she said.”

  “Well…” Nicole’s instinct was to reject the idea. She didn’t want to leave Fiona even for a minute, but she knew having her parents here was probably exhausting and overwhelming for her. She did need to rest. “Okay, but I’ll be back soon.”

  “Take your time. Really.”

  “We’ll find someplace to have an early supper,” her dad suggested.

  “And we can get you girls some clothes and supplies, whatever you need,” her mom added.

  “Supposedly, our suitcases are being returned to us in the morning,” Nicole said. “But a few supplies couldn’t hurt. Oh, and Fi, we can get you a new cell phone.”

  Fiona brightened at the idea. “That would be fantastic, actually.”

  “Perfect,” Michelle said. “We’ll
bring you back some supper too, something better than hospital food.” She winked conspiratorially.

  Fiona ducked her head with a shy smile. “Thank you.”

  There was another knock at the door, and everyone’s heads swiveled toward it in unison.

  “Come in,” Fiona called.

  Nicole turned toward her mom to ask her what hotel they were staying in, assuming one of the nurses had come to check on Fiona, but a tall, gray-haired man stepped into the room instead. Fiona let out a small sound, as if someone had just sat on her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. Nicole took one look between them before her brain caught up to speed.

  Fiona’s dad had come after all. And she didn’t look happy about it. She sat frozen in bed, eyes locked on the man in the doorway, her cheeks as pale as they’d been this morning on the beach right before she crumpled onto the sand. Instinctively, Nicole inched closer, allowing her shoulder to bump into Fiona’s, offering her silent support.

  Michelle turned toward him with a warm smile. “Hello. Are you Fiona’s dad?”

  He cleared his throat. “I am, yes. Oliver Boone.” He spoke in a clipped British accent. His white button-down shirt was neatly pressed; his gray pants almost an exact match for his eyes. If he was worried about what Fiona had been through, he didn’t show it, but then again, maybe British people weren’t as expressive as Americans that way.

  “Michelle Morella,” Nicole’s mom said, standing and extending her hand. “And this is my husband, Anthony. We’re Nicole’s parents,” she explained, as if this man knew who Nicole was. Did he? Had Fiona called him, or had he come of his own accord?

  Fiona hadn’t spoken, hadn’t moved, maybe hadn’t even breathed since he entered the room, and Nicole felt helpless, unsure what to do or say to make this any easier for her. The silence stretched to a length that became uncomfortable, and Nicole’s dad got up from his chair.

  “We’ll just give you guys a few minutes to catch up,” he said.

  Her mom followed. “We’ll be in the hall. Help yourselves to the pizzelle.”

  Nicole glanced over at Fiona, unsure whether to stay or go.

  “Go,” Fiona muttered. Her father lingered in the doorway, jacket folded neatly over one arm. “It’s fine,” she insisted when Nicole hesitated.

  “Okay, but I’ll be right outside.” Nicole had to resist the urge to kiss her before she slid out of bed, but she wasn’t completely sure whether Fiona was out to her family, and she was completely sure Fiona would hate being kissed in front of her father regardless.

  With one last glance over her shoulder, Nicole stepped into the hall. Her parents stood staring at her with matching uncomfortable expressions.

  “What was that about?” her mom asked.

  “British people aren’t that stiff around each other, are they?” her dad chimed in.

  She shook her head. “No, it’s… They aren’t close. I don’t know the history.”

  “That’s sad,” her mom said. “But while I’ve got you out here, tell me, are you really okay?”

  “I really am, Mom.” Nicole let her mother fold her into another hug. “That lifeboat was crazy well stocked. We had pretty much everything we needed…except antibiotics for Fiona.”

  “How did she cut her leg?” her dad asked.

  “Scaling the side of the ship to pull the safety pins that released the lifeboat.” Nicole laughed at the expressions on her parents’ faces. “I know it sounds crazy. It was crazy. We could have died at least a hundred different ways, and yet here I am, with hardly a scratch on me.”

  Nicole had gotten off easy. Fiona had suffered so much more. She was in there right now, facing her estranged father all by herself, and there wasn’t a damn thing Nicole could do to make it any easier for her.

  FIONA STARED AT HER HANDS, noting every scratch that marred her skin, her chipped nails, the heart rate monitor strapped to her index finger, and the IV taped to the back of her right hand. She needed her beeswax moisturizing cream. It might help smooth over some of her rough edges.

  Her father cleared his throat. “It’s a relief to know you’re safe.”

  She nodded, her throat as parched as it had been when she first arrived at the hospital. He stood by the window, so tall and imposing, every stitch of his clothing neatly pressed. By comparison, she felt small and rumpled, unable to even stand and face him without exposing her bare ass in the hospital gown.

  “The authorities kept me apprised of your situation,” he said. “I was quite beside myself with worry.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she managed. Her mind was replaying the previous reunion in this room, the way the Morellas had hugged and cried, shared food and laughter as Nicole filled them in on everything that had happened. Fiona and her father could barely look at each other.

  “Don’t be,” he said. “You’ve had enough to deal with. I came expecting…well, I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

  “I’m fine.” She picked at a broken fingernail until it splintered, a crimson droplet of blood swelling on her fingertip. Embarrassed, she snatched a tissue from the box beside her bed and wrapped it around her finger.

  Her father took a step closer to the bed. “I spent a lot of time thinking this week.”

  She gazed resolutely at her lap. The beeping of her heart rate on the machine quickened, obnoxious to the point that she almost slipped the monitor off her finger to silence it.

  “I have so many regrets,” he said quietly.

  “Don’t,” she warned as the tissue shredded between her fingers. “Not today.”

  Her father nodded. “Perhaps you’d like to come home for a bit after you’re released?”

  “No.” It came out harsher than she’d intended. “Thank you.”

  “Another time, then,” he said, turning away. “It’s good to see you, Fiona. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  She wasn’t okay. She was so far from okay. She clenched her fingers, wishing like hell she wasn’t trapped in this fucking hospital bed. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Take care,” he said before stepping back into the hallway.

  The door closed behind him with a soft click. She lay back in bed and squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath and pushing it out from her diaphragm, one after another until the beeping of the machine returned to normal.

  The door clicked again, and light footsteps approached the bed. “You okay?”

  It was Nicole.

  Fiona opened her eyes slowly, tucking her hand beneath the sheet to hide her bloody fingernail and the shredded tissue. “Fine. Just tired.”

  “How’d it go with your dad?”

  “Fine,” she repeated, putting as much weight into the word as she could muster.

  “I’ll let you sleep, then,” Nicole said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “We’ll be back later with food and stuff.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, turning away.

  She waited until Nicole had left the room before letting the tears fall. Alone. Finally. The peace and quiet she’d been yearning for. She fought against the irrational urge to get up and lock the door. The beeping of the machine spiked again.

  Her father had regrets? Well, so did she. Seeing him today was a timely reminder that the only person she had ever really been able to count on was herself.

  A nurse came into the room, bustling over to her bed and ending Fiona’s brief time alone. She looked at the heart rate machine and then at Fiona. “Too many guests, yes?” she said in a heavy Greek accent.

  Fiona nodded.

  “You want something to help you sleep?”

  She hesitated for a moment, but sleep would be her only respite until she got out of this place, and her brain was too wired right now to come by it naturally. “Please.”

  The nurse left, returning a few minutes later with a small paper cup containing a white pill. She poured a glass of water and handed them both to Fiona. “I keep everyone out for you while you rest.”

  “Thank you.” She
swallowed the pill, ridiculously grateful for the promise of solitude and sleep.

  The nurse checked her over, then closed the blinds on her window, turned out the light, and headed for the door.

  “Wait,” Fiona called.

  The nurse paused in the doorway, looking back at her.

  “My friend Nicole,” she said, twisting her fingers beneath the sheet. “You can let her in…if she comes back.”

  The nurse nodded with a knowing smile. “She will be back.”

  12

  Fiona couldn’t contain the sigh of relief that escaped her lips as she stepped inside her hotel room. It was big and shiny and expensive looking, the kind of place she never booked for herself but never minded when someone else did. In this case, it was a gesture of goodwill from the Cyprus Star’s parent company. The cruise line had been in touch with both her and Nicole, hoping to win back their good graces.

  “This is…fancy,” Nicole said from behind her.

  “It is. I bet it has a lovely tub.” Fiona kicked the door shut behind them, trying not to let on how exhausted she was from spending the evening with Nicole and her parents. She’d hardly done anything but sleep in the days since their rescue, and yet she still felt tired and weak. It was beyond frustrating.

  In the end, she’d sweet-talked the doctors into letting her out after only two nights, and she was so grateful, she could cry. Between the doctors, nurses, Nicole, and her parents constantly bustling in and out of her room, Fiona had exceeded her capacity for human interaction. She was desperate for quiet, for a hot bath and a soft bed…the things she’d been longing for since their time on the island.

  The whole time she was hospitalized, Nicole had looked so damn happy that Fiona couldn’t even be annoyed with her for letting her parents invade her room. They were lovely people. It wasn’t their fault Fiona was terminally antisocial. Nicole had spent both nights in Fiona’s hospital bed, as promised, and most of today too. Fiona hadn’t been released until half past three this afternoon, and the Morellas had promptly taken them both out to dinner.