“Carl,” Jackie said, biting her lip and looking at the two of us. “You don't have to buy your way onto the island.”
“What do you mean?” Dad asked, his brows coming together.
“The tickets.” Jackie motioned to the table and grinned. Dad's mouth opened as he realized what she was talking about and then split into a ear-to-ear grin. He jumped up from the floor and kissed her, full on the lips.
“You are a wonderful woman!” he exclaimed, kissing her again. Jackie blushed a deep shade of crimson, but she grinned.
Dad went to the kitchen table and dug through the pile of mail, murmuring to himself until he found what he was looking for. He handed it to me triumphantly before going to stand next to Jackie.
“Jenny always gives me a ticket to the events I've appraised,” he explained as I opened the small white envelope with my aunt's neat handwriting and pulled out the golden invitation. He squeezed Jackie's hand and grinned. “That's how you get into the auction.”
“But what about you?” I asked, looking up. “I just got here....”
“I'll be fine. Besides, I have a new ticker.” He tapped twice on his chest and then winced at the soreness from the incision. “And I have this lovely lady to look out for me. You go.”
I opened my mouth, feeling like I should protest, even if it was halfhearted.
“I've got him, Ava,” Jackie promised. “I'll give you hourly updates if you want and I promise to make him eat his vegetables.”
“Just daily updates and all the veggies you can get.” I chuckled. If she got him to eat something green that was chile, then she was a superstar. Dad hated vegetables. “You're sure?”
“Go,” Dad said, a grin filling his face. He put his arm around Jackie. “Go and be happy. You have to find the people that make you happy and keep them in your life.”
I stood on shaky legs, hugging them both.
Bastian wasn't Chad. He wasn't out to use me. He loved me. Honest to goodness, love without expecting anything in return, loved me.
You have to find the people that make you happy and keep them in your life.
Dad was right. He was proving it with Jackie. Just because one person left, doesn't mean the next person is going to do the same.
I was an idiot for not seeing it sooner and letting my history with a selfish man cloud my judgment concerning a good man. I was a fool to push him away.
I wasn't going to be a fool for long.
Chapter 25
Flying coach sucked.
Flying coach with three layovers sucked even more.
I arrived on the island bleary-eyed and exhausted the next morning after scrambling to get a last minute ticket. I had paid through the nose, but as I took a deep breath of tropical air, I knew it was worth it. I had to see Bastian. I had to tell him how I felt or I would never be able to forgive myself.
I stopped in the tiny airport's bathroom and did my best to straighten my dress and fix the disaster that was my makeup. Sleeping with a stranger's head on my shoulder while my legs cramped under me was not a beauty regime I could get behind. I sighed at the mirror and put on a brave smile. I was here to see Bastian, not to look pretty. It shouldn't matter how I looked. He would still be excited to see me, not my makeup.
I hoped.
I took a deep breath and went to find a cab. The ride back to the mansion was longer than I remembered it.
What if he doesn't want to see me? What if he's found someone else? What if he hates me? The what-if's buzzed around my head like vultures as palm trees and smaller beach houses whizzed by. I shook my head. What if he's pulled a Mr. Rochester and is now terribly blind and scarred from a fire? I was going to make myself crazy with questions that I couldn't answer until I saw Bastian.
The cab had to stop about a quarter mile from the house due to traffic. I paid the man and pulled my carry-on bag behind me. The entry to the house was packed with cars that cost more than a standard American house.
I paused in the driveway, suddenly unsure of what I was supposed to do next. I hadn't planned this far, and I certainly hadn't planned for there to be this many people. And TV reporters, I thought as I watched a TV crew enter the house.
My original plan of walking up to the front door and knocking suddenly seemed incredibly naive. I looked down at my wrinkled blouse and realized my khaki pants had a nice ketchup stain on them. Bastian was a billionaire. He wasn't going to answer the door. With this many people, it was going to be some security personnel that wouldn't know me from Kate Winslet. I was doomed.
“YOU CAME BACK!”
I turned to see a happy blur of Charlotte speeding toward me, her brown hair flying as she leaped from the front porch and wrapped me up in a giant hug. I didn't know how she managed it in heels, but she did.
“I'm glad to see you, too,” I replied with a laugh, hugging her back. She released me and grinned. Charlotte looked great. She had on a sheer, white silk blouse and a black skirt that accented her waist and made her look feminine and in charge at the same time. Something about her face looked happier, too. I wondered if something had changed between her and Leo. I would have to ask later. Now wasn't the time.
“Bastian's going to flip,” Charlotte told me. “He's been absolutely no fun since you left. One of the auctioneers told him that you were never coming back and he's been awful since. I knew you'd come back, though.”
I dry-washed my hands. I had a feeling I knew which auctioneer had said that. My hands were cold and clammy despite the tropical heat. “Where is Bastian? I need to talk to him.”
“I'm sure you do,” Charlotte replied with a wink, but then she shrugged. “But he's not here.”
“Oh.” My heart sank right through my toes and down into the sand. He was gone. I had missed my chance. “Of course. I should have checked before I came...”
“But he'll be back for the gala tonight,” Charlotte added. “He's out doing business stuff.”
“Oh, he'll be back...” I laughed nervously, feeling relieved for a moment. He wasn't off the island and I hadn't just been through travel hell for nothing.
“You are coming to the gala tonight, right?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “It's how we're showcasing everything for the auction.”
“Gala?” I pulled out my ticket. It now had a giant fold from being in my pocket all day, and I was glad it was on expensive paper or I would have worn it down to shreds by now. “I totally missed there was a gala on there.”
“Do you have anything to wear?” Charlotte asked, eying my very small carry-on suitcase. I shifted my weight nervously. I hadn’t brought anything even remotely acceptable to wear to a gala. I had a nice pant suit for the auction, but I had a feeling that the gala was more of an evening gown kind of event.