How to Honeymoon Alone

“You know what, that might be it, exactly.”

“My sister says true crime podcasts help her sleep. She’s probably a psychopath,” he says and shakes his head. “I’ve suspected it for a long time.”

“Oh, have you?”

“Mm-hmm. She’s a dentist,” he says like it’s the final nail in the coffin.

It makes me laugh. “Okay, I can sort of get your point.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, there on the boat, moving fast across the open ocean. I push my sunglasses higher on my nose and look around for my bag. “I should probably put on some sunscreen.”

“Yeah,” Phillip says.

“Could you help me with my back this time? If we’re going to be in the water, you know…”

He gives a slow nod. “Yeah,” he says. “I can do that.”

Five minutes later, I’m sitting with my back to him, looking out at the swell of the waves, and waiting for the first touch of cold lotion.

Silly, I think to myself.

Amazing, the other part of me says.

I’m flirting. I’m actually flirting, and I’m doing it on what would have been my honeymoon. There’s nowhere I want this to go, and nowhere for it to go. And maybe that’s just what I need. To dip my toe infinitesimally into the metaphorical pool, with no one knowing but me that it’s been dipped.

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Warm hands land on my shoulders and brush my long hair out of the way, pushing it over my left side.

Goosebumps erupt on my arms.

“This’ll be cold,” he mutters, and a second later I feel cold sunscreen on my bare skin. His hands are large and strong on my back. They move in sweeping motions, over my shoulder blades, along my spine, and beneath the band of my bikini top.

I close my eyes. It feels weird, and it feels good, and perhaps it feels weird because it feels good. Even when we’re not in the cramped confines of a minivan. Phillip runs a hand over the small of my back, his pinky grazing the top edge of my bikini bottoms.

“This good?” he asks.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good.” His hands return to my shoulders and run in slow strokes down my arms. I shiver at the touch.

He notices, his hands stopping just below my elbows. “Still okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Yes.”

He continues down to my hands, resting above my wrists for a second before removing them. He clears his throat, and I feel the cushion beneath us shift as he moves back.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Yeah. No problem.” He looks out at the sea and not at me. “Can’t have you burning on my watch.”

“Nor on your boat,” I say.

His mouth curves. “Right. Well, you know, we’re almost through with all major activities on my itinerary.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. There are a just a few left, including the rum tasting.” He waves a dismissive hand, and I wonder at the attitude of skipping pre-paid things. If my parents and I had planned to go to an all-you-can-eat buffet for dinner, none of us would have eaten lunch that day. That’s my point of reference.

“Now who’s being dismissive of your travel agent’s hard work?” I ask.

“Trust me, she got paid her fair share.”

“Who’s idea was it to go to Barbados for your honeymoon?” I ask and kick my legs out in front. My feet are close to his, mine bare beside his sailing shoes.

I know nothing about his ex-fiancée. He’s not sharing breadcrumbs, he’s hoarding entire loaves.

And I’m starving with curiosity.

But he just looks out over the waves, his voice calm. “We decided on the Caribbean early on. We’d both been to the area before, on other islands.”

“Oh.”

“A travel agent suggested a few hotels across the region, and the newly opened Winter Resort looked good.” He shrugs and runs a hand over his nape. “I also represented the company in a settlement a few years back.”

“Ooooh. So this is a perk?”

“It’s not.”

“I’m sitting on a nepotism boat?”

“I’m not related to any of the owners.”

I grin. “But you know them.”

“I met one of them. Once. That’s it.” He raises an eyebrow. “I also work out of Chicago now, not New York anymore.”

“But you used to?”

“Yes,” he says and sighs. “Is this twenty questions?”

“Maybe. Why’d you move back home to Chicago?”

His lips flatten. “She was also from there.”

“Ah.”

“Besides, my firm had an office there, and I was tired of New York. It was a good opportunity.”