How to Honeymoon Alone

I nod, and he pulls me back onto the boat.

“Yes. Oh my God, I never want to do that again, though!”

“The dolphin’s revenge,” David says with a glance down at the fish, prone on the deck. “It made you take a sea bath.”

“Gosh, it really did.” I stand, dripping wet. My sundress is soaked through and through, and thank God the sandals on my feet had straps or they’d have been lost to the deep.

Beside me, Phillip chuckles again. He’s taken off his sunglasses, and in the late afternoon light, I can see the creases at the corner of his eyes because of how wide he’s smiling. “Thanks, Eden.”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

His smile grows. “Do you?”

“Yes. I just gave you a whole lot of entertainment, didn’t I? Free of charge, too.” I grab my hair and twist it around, water dripping on the deck. I don’t want to look down. My dress must be molded to my body, showing off every curve.

He’s already seen me in a bikini. Besides, any sex appeal I might have had was probably lost the moment I mentioned I was a kindergarten teacher. Or when he saw me geek out about turtles and my underwater camera. Not to mention when he saw my annotated guidebook.

Lots of options to choose from.

“Yes,” Phillip says, “you did. David, do you have a spare towel onboard?”

Our fishing guide digs out a frayed towel. The fabric is rough but dry, and I wrap it around myself.

“You’ll get cold,” Phillip says behind me.

“We’re in the Caribbean.”

“The moment we turn on that engine…” he says.

I get what he meant five minutes later. Heading back to the Winter Resort is awful. I get more chilled with every second as the wind assails my soaked-through dress.

Phillip digs through his bag. “I thought I packed another T-shirt,” he mutters.

I look down at his form, bent over his backpack. “Oh, thank you, but that’s okay. We’re almost back at the hotel.” I look down. “Besides, I’m… actually, will you hold this?”

He accepts the towel. “Yeah. Why?” His eyes drop to my hands, clasped around the hem of my dress. “Oh. Right.”

I peel it off my body. Phillip looks away, over to where our fish lie packed together in a bucket of ice. His smile is gone.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

With the wet, cold fabric gone, I already feel five times warmer, even if goosebumps still spread across my bare skin. “Much better. Can I-”

He shoves the towel in my direction. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” I wrap it around myself and pull my wet hair out so it drapes down my towel-clad back. “So, where did you fish?”

“What?”

“Where did you fish? When you were a kid?”

His eyes refocus on mine, and then he clears his throat. “Lake Superior.”

“Outside of Chicago?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat and leans back, silhouetted by the setting sun. “We used to have a cabin by the lake, and we’d go up there in the summers and on the weekends.”

“That sounds lovely. Did you fish with your siblings?”

He shakes his head. “No, my sister never liked it. My father did, though.”

“Did you two catch a lot of dolphins?”

That draws out another half chuckle. “Not a single one, no. Either kind.”

“Do you still fish up there?”

“No, I haven’t for years. I’m almost as much of a novice now as you.”

“Well, you missed the part about falling in,” I say. “That’s key.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Yeah. To celebrate a successful catch, you know. It’s a ritual to give thanks to the ocean. But don’t worry,” I say and reach out to pat his arm. His skin is warm beneath my fingers. “You’ll get there eventually.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Thank you for the encouragement.”

“Anytime.”

“So, what else is in your little guidebook?”

“What else?”

“Yes. What other sights are a must for you?”

I smile at him. “You’re asking for a monologue. You know that, right?”

A dimple appears on his cheek. It’s there and gone again, almost like it never existed at all. “Monologue away.”

“Okay. So, you know they produce a lot of rum in the Caribbean?”

“I may have heard about that, yes.”

I roll my eyes but continue undaunted. “Right. Well, the oldest brand of rum is produced here on the island.”

“It is?”

“Barbados is home to the oldest distillery, but there are several others. So, one of the things I really want to do while I’m here is to go to a rum tasting, try a ton of different cocktails, and maybe learn how rum is made.”

He runs a hand along his jaw. “You know, I might’ve seen something about rum in my itinerary.”