Troubles in Paradise (Paradise, #3)

by Elin Hilderbrand

If you don’t fancy papaya, think of a mango as we crosshatch the ripe flesh of the cheeks with a sharp knife or a freshly picked pineapple from the fertile fields of St. Croix, deep gold, its chunks sweeter than candy.

Rum punches and Kenny Chesney.

Irene bows her head. She notices his use of the pronoun we, which she finds both sweet and confusing. What he doesn’t understand is that there is no we.

A bummer is when Iowa loses to Iowa State. It can maybe be stretched to include a flat tire, a loose filling that results in having to get a root canal, and flunking your driver’s test. What’s happening to Irene is not a bummer.

One trait all the women in his life have shared: They were “born on the Fourth of July.” Independent.

I’m a patient man, Irene. I’m a fisherman.”

Two things are apparent in that moment. One, they are okay. And two, Huck doesn’t understand women.

Sunny was the ambassador; she did the talking, learning the words for Hello and Thank you in the language of every place they visited.

That must have been so cool, people say when Ayers describes her upbringing. You’re so lucky. We all want what we can’t have. Ayers wanted a house. She wanted a subscription to Seventeen magazine that would arrive reliably on the first of the month.

Every week or two someone aboard Treasure Island asks Ayers, “What do your parents think about you living on a tropical island?” The true answer: They think it’s boring. “Oh,” she responds. “They’re proud of me.”

“Just remember that this isn’t the end of the world,” she said. “Ischemic heart disease—now, that’s the end of the world.”

Huck is thinking of Oscar Cobb again because even though he promised himself he wouldn’t, he has been reading steadily through Rosie’s journals. It was as simple and irrevocable as Eve taking the first bite of the apple; one taste and Huck was damned.

Irene worries about money, he knows, but guess what—so does everyone else in the world.

So is it making you happy? Cash wants to ask. He believes that if you agree to do something you’d rather not do for someone else’s sake, then you should do it graciously, with some enthusiasm, like a good sport.

She had spent much of the previous six months hating Mick for what had happened with Brigid—but hate was not the opposite of love. Indifference was the opposite of love, and for the first time, Ayers felt like she could take Mick or leave him. Tonight, she would leave him.

She owned a house filled with things, some of them very expensive. But none of it matters. She’s doing just fine without things. Why had she put so much time and energy into them in the first place?

Marilyn nods. “I asked someone close to you.” “That narrows it down,” Irene says. “I know only five people.”

“Propagating?” Duncan says. A smile oozes across his face. He’s definitely high. Or maybe just creepy; Swan can’t tell.

They look happy, Teresa thinks. They look like a real live happy family.

Huck breathes out a “Thank you” and marvels at how much better his life is with Irene Steele in it.

Maia isn’t supposed to hang around Huck while he smokes but there’s a new life entering the world and a hurricane coming, so the usual rules don’t apply.

“We could tell you,” Huck says. “But you’d never believe it.”

“Damaged,” Irene says. “Not destroyed.” Like me, she thinks.

Bad things can happen, terrible things. You can lose the people you love the most; you can lose homes, cars, antiques, hand-knotted silk rugs that cost five figures; you can discover that the very life you’re living is a terrific lie. And despite this, despite all this, the sun will

continue to rise. Tomorrow morning, over the bruised and broken body of St. John USVI, the sun will rise again.

To my kids, Maxwell, Dawson, and Shelby: Everything, always, is for you.