Tristan wrapped his arms around me from behind and nuzzled my neck. Bea gave us an annoyed sort of look and quickly glanced away.
“It’s nice,” I said as he kissed my cheek and moved to stand next to me. He was wearing a light blue polo shirt and white linen shorts, his blond hair grazing his eyebrows. “It’s nice just to think about something else for a little while.”
“Agreed,” Bea said, downing the rest of her drink. “And what I’m thinking about is getting more punch. You guys want anything?”
“I’m good,” Tristan said.
“Me, too,” I added, leaning into him.
Bea rolled her eyes and walked off, tugging down on the hem of her denim miniskirt. On the dance floor in the center of the tent, Lauren was letting loose along with a crowd of visitors as Pete DJ’d from a booth set off to one side. The paper lanterns and swaths of garland swayed in the ocean breeze as the ballerinas delivered salads and champagne to the tables, then moved off, pirouetting with their free arms raised elegantly overhead. It was as if the whole service were a carefully choreographed dance. Officer Dorn shuffled slowly around the periphery of the tent, his hands clasped behind his back, keeping a surreptitious eye on the guests. He looked up and met my gaze. I stared at him until he looked away.
“What kind of party do you think you’ll have for your anniversary?” Tristan asked, holding me closer.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I haven’t even thoug
ht about it. The whole idea of being here for a year… It seems impossible.”
“Wait till you’ve been here for a hundred,” he said, half joking, half grim.
It was the first time he’d even come close to approaching the truth about his time on the island.
“What’s it like, being alive for that long?” I asked, turning to face him and wrapping my arms lightly around his neck. Dorn passed behind Tristan, and I ignored his glare, biting my tongue to keep from asking where his friend Nadia was tonight. “Don’t you get bored? Do you ever want to just…”
“End it?” Tristan asked, a shadow flickering across his face. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about it on the darker days—trying to figure out a way to move on from here. But then I remember that I was meant to be here. That this place needs me. And I just…go on.”
I lifted his other hand and laced all our fingers together. “You’ll have to show me how to do that, once I start having darker days.”
He gave me a confident smile. “I will,” he said, kissing the bridge of my nose. “You know I will.”
I melted into him, and we hugged for a long time. Then he spotted something over my shoulder and pulled away.
“What’s this?”
I turned to find my father and the mayor walking into the party together. He was wearing a suit jacket unbuttoned over his shirt, and she had on a pretty black dress with lace at the neckline. Her hair was down for the first time since I’d met her and was so long it fell past her shoulders in a girlish way. My father had his hand on the small of her back as they weaved around the tables together. My stomach clenched at the intimate gesture.
“I don’t even want to know,” I said, swallowing hard.
Behind my father, Darcy and Fisher walked into the party, making a stunning couple, him in a stark white shirt that contrasted sharply with his dark skin, her in a slinky black dress and red heels. I saw a few heads turn as they sauntered by, and I could read the jealousy in the girls’ glances. That was how people always looked at Darcy. Like they hated her and wanted to be her all at the same time. I was glad Fisher had brought her here. Darcy deserved a party.
“I guess everyone’s coupled up for the night,” Tristan said as a new song started and Lauren and her posse of visitors cheered.
“As long as we’re coupled up, that’s all I care about,” I said, resting my head against his shoulder.
Suddenly, a series of explosions nearby killed all conversation. The music stopped abruptly, and Krista screamed.
“Krista?” Tristan shouted in alarm.
Out of nowhere, a bubbly, pop version of “Happy Birthday” blasted through the speakers. Tristan and I stared at each other, confused.
“What the hell?”
But Tristan’s words were still hanging in the air when people around us began to gasp and smile. Bea pointed toward the back of the tent and cheered.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
Tristan took my hand and led me around the outskirts of the tent. Set up near the back of the property, a safe distance from the guests, was a huge sign made out of crackling sparklers, the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY KRISTA! spelled out in bright white lights. Joaquin stood nearby, eyeing Krista with a cocky grin.