How to Honeymoon Alone

His eyes dance. “Maybe later. Come on, tell me what magical place you have bookmarked in the guidebook. I can see the Post-it notes from here.”

“Well, we saw most of the things during our drive. I’m really glad we did that. But there’s a spot on the south coast that’s supposed to have a lot of surfing and a really nice restaurant. I know we’ve already-”

“We could go there,” he says. “Make sure you get to see the entire island.”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Yes. But in all fairness, it’s not terribly large.”

“It’s about one-sixth of Rhode Island,” Phillip says and reaches for my guidebook. He raps it twice with his knuckles. “Should we rent a car again? To make sure we check it off your list.”

“Yeah. Sure. Yes, that would work.”

He nods and takes another bite of his croissant. Dark hair falls over his smooth forehead. No furrow this time, like it was always a foregone conclusion that we’d spend the day together.

I find myself smiling at him. For all of his complicated past, he’s great at making this-us-wonderfully uncomplicated.

“What?” he asks.

I shake my head, still smiling. “Nothing. Just that I’m glad you were on your honeymoon alone at the same time as me.”

He runs a hand over his mouth, hiding his own grin. “Yeah. Come on, eat your pancakes, Eden. The island awaits.”

“Admit it,” I say. “You’re having more fun here than you expected.”

Phillip reaches over and flicks me across the nose. It’s something my older cousin used to do, but I don’t think anyone has since I was twelve.

“I admit it,” he says. “Now, come on. I want to hear more about the plot for your next book. Have you decided on the murder victim yet?”

I smile at my juice. Two days left.

But I’m not going to waste another minute of them.

The book on my lap is the third and final one I brought on the trip. I thought I’d have them all read in the first week, with having so much time to myself, but the days have been fuller than I expected.

It has a lot to do with the man lying in the chair beside mine.

After our conversation at the breakfast buffet yesterday, we’d spent the entire day together. The evening, too, which had been room service and sex in his bungalow. A pretty great combination, I’m coming to learn.

Phillip had been at the breakfast buffet again this morning, sitting at my table and reading the newspaper on his tablet. Drinking a cup of black coffee. Half-eaten pancake on his plate.

Good morning, he’d said, eyes glittering. Sleep well?

Over breakfast, we’d decided the previous day’s car rental was enough excitement, and our last full day should be spent at the resort. On the beach, in fact, with our feet in the sand and faces to the sun.

I glance at him, resting beside me. Last night had been just as good as the night before. We’ve slept together several times now, and each time has been better than the last.

It has to reach a zenith at some point, but it seems we’re not there, yet.

Noon. That’s when my flight leaves tomorrow, taking me to Seattle. At 5:45 p. m. the same afternoon, he’ll leave, too, and we’ll never see each other again.

Phillip glances at me. “You’re thinking about something.”

I smile. “Well, I always am.”

He pushes into sitting and looks out at the ocean, shading his eyes from the bright light. “It looks like it might rain.”

I glance up at the clear, blue sky. The only cloud in sight is a thin sliver of white, right along the horizon.

“Ah,” I say. “You’re right.”

“I think it’s best we head inside or we might get drenched.”

“Grab some shelter?”

“Yes,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Even though I know just how much you enjoy the rain.”

We walk up the sandy beach and past the resort’s pool. The backs of our hands brush with every step, and energy buzzes through me.

“You know, I haven’t seen your hotel room,” he says.

I smile down at my sandals. “Really? It’s pretty great. Makes your bungalow look… well, I don’t want to say the word, but gauche.”

He chuckles. “Gauche?”

“Yeah.”

He holds the button for the elevator doors and motions for me to enter. “Well, you have me intrigued now.”

“As you should be.” I whip out my key card, brandishing it in the air between us like a trophy. “It’s a testament to minimalism.”

He gives a sage nod. “I see. The Japanese kind or the Scandinavian?”

“A mix.” I walk in front of him down the hall, past the vending machine. “Observe,” I say.

“Ah, the famous vending machine?” he asks and gives it a brief pat. “To think, it caused so much trouble.”

“I give it the finger every time I pass,” I say.

“Well, I should thank it,” Phillip says. “It meant you ended up in the pool with me at midnight.”

I reach my hotel door with a pounding heart and look over my shoulder at him. His eyes are heated, and his hands are in his pockets, and I know exactly what will happen if I let him into my little room with the AC unit in the corner, the beautiful carpeting, and the bright overhead lighting.

I turn the handle.

It’s slower this time. We take our time getting undressed, and he kisses every inch of my chest before he lets me take off his shirt.

I bury my hand in his hair and rake my nails over his scalp, and he groans, lips at my hipbone. I’d discovered just how much he enjoyed that yesterday.

“I want to try something,” I murmur and push at his shoulders. He lets me tug down his shorts and watches with color on his cheeks as I take him in my mouth.