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Hale took my hand. “Thanks for arranging that.”
“You’re welcome.” Had he made the arrangements, I probably would have had more fun and a wetsuit that didn’t queef. “Did you get some good footage?”
“I did. Take a look.” He tipped the screen of the camera, using the shade of the palm trees to block the glare of the sun.
I expected to see coral reefs and exotic fish, but what I saw was a montage of myself, exploring underwater. My hair was wild and waving like a mermaid’s and my body looked perfectly fine. I looked…cute.
“You didn’t record any of the fish.”
“I got footage of all the beauty I wanted to remember.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “Hale...”
“What?”
I gave him a shoulder bump, my secret handshake, and code for I love you.
He kissed my damp head. “What do you say we get you a cocktail and have a long shower followed by a longer nap.”
“I’d say now you’re speaking my language.”
After Maldives came Seychelles where we stayed in a luxurious treehouse in the lush, tropical forests overlooking the Indian Ocean. There had been a lot of afternoon rain which led to lots of afternoon sex—my kind of adventuring.
Hale had mentioned zip lining but, on account of the weather, I dodged that bullet safely. Thank God.
When we boarded our next flight my hair had grown twice its usual size. “You’re staring.”
“So?”
“Look, there’s nothing I can do. It’s the humidity.”
“I think the curls are sexy.”
“They’re not curls as much as they’re inflated frizz.”
“Well, I think they’re hot. You look like a wild woman. They match the new freckles on the bridge of your nose.”
“That’s sunburn.”
“Still sexy.” He stretched out his legs and made himself comfortable as the plane started to move. “Throw you in a tattered rag and we could play Thunderdome.”
“Are you having an apocalyptic fantasy right now?”
“Maybe. Or you could wear a little leopard bikini and play my captive, a native souvenir I found in the jungle to see to my pleasure.”
Obviously, role-playing was in my near future.
We landed in Bora Bora a full day later. This time I planned better by packing plenty of books. It also helped that I started the flight drunk.
We were back in another stunning overwater bungalow surrounded by a crystal-clear sea. So far, Bora Bora was my favorite. Our luxury hut had a small kitchenette and that inspired me to do something nice for Hale.
I arranged for a few groceries to be delivered and planned to make Hale a home-cooked meal. After weeks away, I thought American comfort food might be appreciated, but I hadn’t anticipated how complicated it would be to cook in an under-supplied kitchen.
Breakfast didn’t make it to bed as I planned. Instead, Hale awoke in a panic to the shrill squeal of the fire alarm as smoke billowed from the toaster.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” I unplugged the machine, unsure what to do with it as the grease from the bacon spattered off the pan and caught fire. “Fire!”
“Get back!” Hale yelled, pushing me aside to move the pan off the flame.
