How to Honeymoon Alone

I stretch out in the water. It’s luxurious-being here, doing this. The sky above is peppered with stars, and exhilaration courses through my veins. I want to stay here forever. The moment feels big, and unusual, and awe-inspiring.

Phillip starts to swim again.

I wait until he does a few laps before I speak again. “How old are you?”

He takes a few leisurely strokes before answering. “I don’t understand how your brain works.”

“I’m just curious. I can ask something else if that’s too sensitive. Did you send your dad the picture of you with the fish?”

“No, but from your question, I take it you’ve sent one to yours?”

“Yes. My parents were very impressed with my mahi-mahi slash dolphinfish.”

“Did you tell them you fell off the boat three seconds later?”

“I might have left that part out.”

He chuckles. It’s the second time I’ve heard him laugh, and both of them have been today.

And both have been about me falling off.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

“Smart. Well, I’m thirty-two,” he says. Then, he pushes off the wall and swims an entire lap with quick strokes, like that the end of the conversation.

I lie back in the water and stare up at the sky again. There are so many stars visible here, more than I can see back home, and no wonder. There must be very little light pollution on a small island in the middle of the sea.

Thirty-two. I thought he was older at first, but that might’ve just been my reading of a tense facial expression. But those faded away on the fishing boat, singed by the sun and swept away by the wind.

“I’m twenty-eight,” I volunteer when he’s back in my part of the pool.

He pushes a few wet strands of hair back off his forehead. “Right. Met your fiancé in college?”

“No, we went to high school together,” I say. “But we didn’t get together until one summer when we were both home from college.”

“I see.”

I look at him across the water. He hasn’t told me a single thing about the woman he was meant to marry, or why the wedding didn’t happen. I’m only moderately curious. It’s not like it’s eating me alive or anything.

“Don’t ask,” he warns me.

I use my most innocent smile. “Wasn’t about to.”

“Yes, you were,” he says. “I can see it in your eyes. But it’s too nice of a night.”

I push off the side of the pool. “Yes, it is. Is that why you’re out here so late?”

“Needed to clear my head,” he says.

I swim to the other end and rest my arms against the edge of the pool. Tipping my head back, I stretch out in the water. “Well, don’t let me stop you if you need to do a few more laps.”

He grunts a response and kicks off into an impressive crawl. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of rhythmic splashing. It’s past midnight in this beautiful place, and I’m enjoying every minute of it.

The sound gets louder on my left but then suddenly stops. I open my eyes to see Phillip beside me, long arms stretched out like me.

“So,” he says. “What are you doing next?”

“Tonight? I have a hot date with my hotel bed, as soon as I find someone to help me unlock the door.”

“Damn. Don’t forget to use protection.”

“Wow.”

He runs a wet hand over his face. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean to upset your delicate sensibilities.”

“Do I strike you as someone with delicate sensibilities?” I raise a hand. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

“I won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “But I meant what’s next on your grand tour of the island.”

“Oh. Well, during the day tomorrow I’ll be on the beach again. But I’m considering going to the fish market later. It’s Friday night.”

There’s skepticism in his dry voice. “Fish market?”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty famous thing on the island, apparently. You can get grilled fish and drinks, there’s live music… It’s down past Bridgetown.”

“How are you getting there?”

“Well, I haven’t really figured it out yet. I read in the guidebook about taxi-buses. So, I’m considering that.”

“Taxi-buses,” he says. “And you’d go alone?”

“I was planning on that, yeah. Unless you have a taste for fish? I don’t think they serve steak at the fish market, buddy.”

“Buddy?”

“Yeah, it felt wrong the second it came out of my mouth. I take it back. I un-buddy you.”

“Thanks,” he says and turns back toward the stars. “Want company?”

“Sure, if you want to go. But don’t feel like you have to. I know it might not be your scene, you know.”

He pushes off the edge and swims to face me. “No, I don’t know. What do you mean?”

I give him an apologetic smile. “I mean, bungalow twelve? Exclusive itinerary? You probably had a lot of things planned that were golf course related or involved private tours, and not buses and fish markets.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I hate more, that you think that… or that you’re right,” he says. “But count me in for tomorrow.”

My smile widens. It had been something I very much wanted to do, but I’d been reluctant to try it on my own. “Really?”

“Yes.”