When he calls me “girl” I see that happy younger woman inside me, the one who’s dying to break free, see the light of day. The one who wants to laugh and play at home, not just here. “My friends have been pretty brutal lately.” I grimace, remembering the intervention. “They don’t approve of my coming here. They think I should stay home, be like them. But I can’t be like them. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

For a moment I can’t answer, feeling that old shadow of frustration and resistance. Sometimes I don’t know why I can’t be like them, and other times I only know I don’t want to be like them. “My world, the one I have in Seattle, revolves around couples. Families. Weekends in Madison Park are made for couples… families. As a single person, I don’t do what the rest of my friends do. I don’t get invited to the concerts, the dinners. Movies.”

Kai shoots me a narrowed glance. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a world designed for two. Like Noah’s Ark, everybody files on in twos. If you’re not two, you don’t get an invite.” I see his expression, and he’s still perplexed.

Turning on the seat, I face him squarely, his hand still linked with mine. “Hawaii’s different. That’s one of the reasons I like coming here so much. Hawaii’s culture isn’t about status, prestige, social significance. It’s more open. Free-spirited.”

“Individualistic,” he adds, and he’s pretty much summed it up.

“You, and Hawaii, give me freedom I don’t get at home. Here I can try things, do things, risk things I couldn’t get away with in Seattle. Here I can be anybody I want to be.”

His hand squeezes mine. He has such a lovely hand to hold, lightly callused on the palm, but strong, tan, and warm. “Who do you want to be, girl?”

“Me.” Happy. Free.

He lifts my hand to his mouth, kisses it. “Then be yourself. Because you’re pretty damn special, Jackie Laurens.”

For a moment I don’t speak. I’m too filled with warmth and gratitude. Somehow—and I don’t know how—Kai made me realize I was important. He made me see that I’ve nothing to feel guilty about. If I’ve done my best, I’ve done my best, and that’s all I can do.

“I’m glad I met you, Kai.” My voice is thickening up, emotion neither of us needs. But somehow coming to Hawaii, getting close to Kai, splits me open, makes me feel, and the feelings, even the sharp bittersweet ones, are good.

“I’ll always be here for you.”

He merges onto the freeway, and I get my first glimpse of Diamond Head and the blue, blue water. “You say that now.”

“I mean it.”