Page 41 of A Not-So Holiday Paradise
Then Beckett turns to me. “We need to pick up phones, or at leastaphone, so we can get in touch with your family. I’m sure they’ll be anxious to hear from you.”
“Fromus,” I correct.
Beckett hesitates, then nods. “From us,” he says. “Then we can go back to my place and get cleaned up and figure out our next steps. Sound good?”
“Sounds good,” I say. Then I look at him. “It’s not another hut, is it?”
“No,” he says, smiling slightly. “It’s not another hut.”
* * *
The looksthe cab driver gave us are nothing compared to the looks we get from the owner of the small electronics shop we enter several minutes later. We look…well. Like we were stranded on an island overnight.
Imagine that.
The selection of phones is limited to several different models in a small glass case, but Beckett doesn’t seem bothered. He just points to one of them, an honest-to-goodness flip phone—I didn’t even know they still sold those—and hands over a card that he pulls from a soggy, water-laden wallet. He pays for one month of usage and then, before the bewildered salesman can even put the phone in the bag, hands it to me.
“Call,” he says tensely. “Wes, your mom, your dad—anyone.” He nods once to the guy behind the counter, who looks thrilled to see us go, and then guides me out with one hand at the small of my back.
It takes a second to get the phone on and working like it’s supposed to, but by the time we get to the curb to flag down another taxi, I have service.
My hand hovers over the keys as I think, biting my lip. I’m tempted to bypass my parents and call Wes, just to spare myself any theatrics. My mom does not suffer in silence, and I’m not sure I can deal with her brand of chaos right now.
Ultimately I decide on my dad, though. And it’s his calm voice, betraying only a hint of strain, that answers after one ring—a clear sign he’s been waiting by his phone. They probably all have.
“Dad?” I say.
“Molly?” he says quickly, and some of his calm seems to dissipate. “Molly, sweetie? Is that you?”
“Yeah,” I say, blinking away the hot tears stinging my eyes. His voice is the best thing I’ve heard all day. “It’s me.”
“Oh, Molly,” he says, and the words are wobbly. “Deb, it’s Molly! Are you okay, sweetie? Are you safe?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m safe.”
“And Beckett?” my dad asks. “He’s safe too?”
I nod, looking at Beckett who’s busy flagging down a taxi. “Beckett is fine too.”
He looks over at me when he hears me mention his name, and I beckon him closer before pulling the phone away from my ear and turning it on speaker.
“Dad, you’re on speaker phone,” I say, holding the phone up next to my mouth as I speak. “Beckett is right here too.”
I hear a cacophony of voices on the other end before my mom’s voice comes through. “Molly? Beckett? You’re okay?” She sounds nothing short of frantic.
“We’re both fine,” I say quickly. “We both fell asleep on the beach while the storm was rolling in, and by the time we realized, it was too dangerous to come back. We had to stay overnight, but we’re back on St. Thomas now. Where are you? Did you get on the ship?”
“This is all my fault,” my mom says, and I’m surprised to hear her as she begins to cry. Or really, it’s more of a wail. “All my fault! I told you to stay—you’ve always had a crush on him, and Beckett is such adear, and I thought you two might—might—” But her words die as she hiccups herself into more crying, and I press one hand to my heated cheeks.
Matchmaking. My mother wasmatchmaking.
“Where are you?” Beckett says, and I can’t help but notice that his cheeks look a little pink too. “Did you get on the ship, or did you realize Molly wasn’t there? She doesn’t have her—”
But he breaks off when my hand flies to his face and clamps over his mouth. His brows furrow as he looks at me with outrage, his day-old scruff sandpaper against my palm as he jerks his head back and forth. His hands, warm and strong, come up and wrap around my wrist with a strength that I frankly find very attractive.
“No!” I whisper, holding the phone away from my body so my parents don’t hear. “Don't tell them. It won’t make them get here any faster, and they’ll just worry.”
Beckett pulls my hand away from his mouth with ease, but he doesn’t speak. He just eyes me for a moment before nodding, and I sigh with relief.
