Page 3 of Match Made in the Maldives

That’s right. I’d forgotten that evening in January because of too many gin and tonics. The alcohol gave me a sublime buzz, a fizzy bounce in my step that made everything delightful. I hadlaunched my graphic design business earlier that week and felt extra festive. Tanner chose not to come out—in hindsight, he was probably sleeping around—but oddly enough, I didn’t miss him. Instead, I relished the freedom of the evening and the company of Aaron’s friends. Especially Finn, since I spent much of the night talking to him and was reminded of what a great guy he is. We split a cab back to my place, and although things were hazy from that moment on, he made sure I got into my apartment safely.

Is this your oh-so-gentle way of telling me I owe you for the taxi?I text back.

His chuckle bubbles up from the other side of the plane, warming my insides.

No. Just didn’t know if you remembered or not.

All I recall is waking up the next day,I write,tucked comfortably into my bed with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on my nightstand. Which, by the way, thank you.

His response ignites a spark in my abdomen.Anytime, Lou.

The flight attendant shoots me a disapproving glance during the safety demonstration for not having switched my phone to Airplane Mode. Once I do, I tuck the device away and pull out a book to hold me over until I can use my computer.

My life might be falling apart, and this vacation is the last thing I have the time and energy for, but I want to put my family first. We’ll get some wonderful memories, and I just need to survive the week. I’ll figure everything else out later.

Chapter Two

Finley

I bring up the rear of the line to board the tiny seaplane from Malé to our resort, and as Luna stands in front of me, I get a whiff of her familiar scent. The floral fragrance doesn’t overwhelm me the way a perfume or body spray might. It’s justher. How she can still smell like a bouquet after a day’s worth of travel makes zero sense.

“We’re so close,” Luna says to cheer up her sister-in-law. With Carmen early in her second trimester, three flights in one trip have taken a toll on her already weary body. Lou’s a sweetheart and rests a hand on Carmen’s elbow to steady her as she boards the seaplane.

The Moores have a way of caring for each other that I never had in my own home. Not even Aaron knows half the bullshit my brother has put me through and still does, so to have my best friend’s family treat me like one of their own is quite a gift.

Lou especially looks out for people. She makes their lives better in little and big ways, helps them get comfortable, and keeps them happy. As she clambers onto the seaplane, whichrocks back and forth from measured waves in the aquamarine waters, I insert my hand into the space between her head and the entryway just in time. Her skull flattens my palm with a brief pulse of discomfort.

“Oh,” she says, ducking lower. She inspects the door frame, then turns around to give me a slight smile. “Thanks.”

She’s always looking out extra for everyone, so I don’t mind looking out extra for her.

On board, I have to squat to reach the last open seat: the one next to Luna in the fourth and final row. I’ve never flown in a plane this tiny. We’re crammed in with a few other travelers, and my knees knock the chair in front of me. From where I sit, three steps forward would get me into the cockpit, which has no door, allowing us all to peer at the equipment.

They could put me on a rowboat to the hotel and I’d be fine—I’m due for a change of scenery. The paperwork has been processed, and my app was acquired a month ago. My deal earned me enough to live comfortably for the foreseeable future, but I despise sitting still. Work gives me purpose, makes me valuable, and ensures that I don’t need to depend on anyone else. So, I’ve spent the last four weeks banging my head against my computer to figure out what’s next, with lots of late nights and nothing to show for it. If I fly back to Chicago with no new project in mind, perhaps that job offer in California is the way to go.

Once the pilot explains the safety protocol and ensures we’ve fastened our seatbelts, she takes her spot next to the copilot, and we move. This plane floats like a boat, though I don’t dwell on how strange that is. Not that I can think much with all the noise.

“This water is insane,” Luna says, her attention glued to the ocean outside our window.

“What kind of blue would you call that?”

“All kinds. Turquoise. Cerulean. Your eyes sort of match it too.” She turns to me. “Yeah. Finley Robertson blue.”

I catch her eyes, a decadent shade of brown with flecks of gold.

I’m no idiot with women, and I’ve had a couple of long-term girlfriends, but Lou confuses me sometimes. Most times, really. I’m not like the confident—no, cocky—guys who appear to be her type. She’s my best friend’s little sister, and she gets me tongue-tied in the most infuriating way. I often leave our interactions knowing I said the wrong thing or didn’t say enough. That’s how our dynamic has been as long as we’ve known each other. Even more so since that kiss three years ago, which I had figured she forgot about.

But after Aaron’s birthday this year, she made it clear that she does remember that kiss, at least when she’s had something to drink. I don’t know what to make of her anymore.

“Finley Robertson blue?” I repeat to her, and a pretty pink fills Lou’s cheeks.

She whips her head back to the window. “And there’s navy. Sapphire. Every shade.”

“Hey,” Melissa calls from the front row. “Pic, everybody, quick. Look up here!”

Aaron holds his cell phone out for us to pose, bleary-eyed and excited, as the engine roars. The four other passengers take photos until the plane’s abrupt forward motion pushes everyone to the backs of their seats. The din makes conversation near impossible. Then, like sorcery, the plane skims the sea until lifting effortlessly into the sky. The land shrinks, and soon, groupings of atolls become visible—dark patches of emerald earthiness encircled by thin strips of blinding white sand that bleed into the ocean.

With my noise-canceling headphones on, I play some indie rock, close my eyes, and ignore Lou’s delicate, intoxicating scent. The peacefulness doesn’t last long, though. A few minutes intothe flight, we hit turbulence, and unlike a larger plane that absorbs a lot of the shaking, we feel everything that hits this minuscule aircraft. Every air pocket and every pilot redirect. When I check on Lou, the color has drained from her face, and she has a death grip on the armrest. I hadn’t noticed the rain because of my music, and our surroundings have become so foggy that the ocean below has disappeared.

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