‘No babies,’ he said when he caught me looking at him. He had an accent I recognised immediately as Italian. I did love an Italian accent, and coupled with those blue eyes and what were clearly very defined biceps, this guy was my type.
‘Thankfully not!’ I replied.
‘So what brings you to this romantic paradise? Given that you’re single.’
‘How do you know I’m—’
‘Sorry.’ He held up his hand and cut me off. ‘So presumptuous and rude of me. Sometimes I just say what I think. I just noticed you sitting alone . . . no ring, and I assumed. Everyone here is paired off, so . . .’ He looked around the small plane and I followed his eyes. People were indeed paired off, like birds that had found each other in mating season. Newly-weds, oldly-weds celebrating anniversaries, and two people who were pawing each other and looked like they weren’t going to make it to bed.
‘I’m on my honeymoon. By myself. I was left at the altar.’ I tried to put on a sad face.
‘Oh no! Very sorry to hear that.’
I shrugged. ‘Nothing like standing in the aisle in a wedding dress with no groom to remind you how fun romance is.’ I forced a little laugh, the kind that someone would give if they were trying to bury painful feelings. It clearly worked, because I could see he was trying to figure out what to say next. ‘And what bringsyouto the honeymoon destination of the world all alone?’ I asked, breaking the silence.
‘I’m here to say goodbye to someone. My wife passed away three years ago, and this is where she wanted her ashes scattered.’
‘Oh no, I’m sorry.’
He gave me a sad smile of his own, also trying to bury painful feelings. ‘It was her dying wish. But it’s taken me a long time to get around to doing it.’
I nodded as if I even vaguely understood what he was going through.
‘Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for on the island,’ he finally said.
‘You too,’ I replied, and couldn’t help but think of Lou and Philly. Was love really worth it? Forty per cent of all marriages experienced some kind of infidelity – physical or emotional; thirty-five per cent ended in divorce and one hundred per cent ended in death. So either way you looked at it, it all ended in heartbreak one way or the other.
I turned my attention back to the window and watched as we flew over lush green islands that looked more like emeralds sparkling in the sea, each one encircled in the whitest beaches I’d ever seen. The plane finally touched down with a soft splash and stopped at a dock, where a line of staff was already waiting for us. It was all veryWhite Lotus, though hopefully without the murder. The staff had the kind of smiles plastered across their faces that only resorts charging $5,000 per night would have. It was probably a prerequisite for working there. I disembarked and was just about to pick up my bag when a man scooped it up at lightning speed. And then came the cool lemongrass-scented towels and freshly squeezed tropical drinks.
After that, I was escorted by one of the staff to a sleek black golf cart that looked fit for a member of the royal family. Soon I was being driven down a small sandy path. Tall palm trees rose up on either side, and within minutes I was completely surrounded by a thick, dense jungle. It was all so green here, apart from the pops of tropical flowers. I didn’t know their names, but I knew Philly would have. And she would probably have been able to tell me something interesting about each one.
The smell of the ocean hung in the air, as did the aroma of wet rainforest plants, warm sand and the smell of coconuts. I leaned back in the cart and closed my eyes momentarily, allowing the warm breeze to float over my skin and listening to the sounds around me: birdsong, rustling leaves and small waves. If I wasn’t such a tightly wound human, I might actually be able to relax in a place like this. A normal person would probably be lulled into relaxation in an instant, but I was already scanning my surroundings and taking a mental picture of it all.
The hotel finally came into view, tucked between massive palm trees next to a sparkling white beach. It was constructed almost completely of wooden beams, a thatched roof sitting atop it, and it blended seamlessly into the environment around. North Island was definitely the ultimate luxury getaway; no wonder it was frequented by royals and other celebrities. Philly had also popped in an article about a particularly scandalous celebrity meltdown that had happened right here only a year ago.
After I’d checked in at the main reception, I was back in the golf cart, this time being driven in a different direction, away from reception, along a wooden path that wound its way past the front of the villas. Each was completely private, boasting its own private plunge pool, and all faced the sea. When we pulled up to my villa, which was located at the very end, the concierge jumped out and carried my bag inside.
‘Thank you,’ I said, pulling out a fat tip for the man. I’d been given spending money for while I was here, and I’d found that giving big tips to staff could sometimes come in handy if you happened to need a favour or some information from them.
I looked around the room.Seriously!I would not have been able to conjure this villa in my wildest dreams. It was so opulent I needed to show it to Philly immediately. I video-called her and she answered on the first ring. I’d had to teach her to video-call, not to mention use a smartphone, and now she was a pro.
‘You willnotbelieve this place. I wish you could have come with me. I should have told Sharaz I needed my trusty sidekick.’
‘I wish. Give me the grand tour.’
I decided to start with the view, and turned the camera so she could see the wooden deck that protruded towards the beach. I showed her the pool and sunloungers and the jacuzzi in the corner, all of it met with loud appreciative sounds.
‘Okay, now the bedroom,’ I said, swinging the phone around and walking back inside. The room was dominated by a massive four-poster that looked like it was made of driftwood. I lowered my hand to the bed and found myself running my fingers over the crispest white linen I’d ever felt. It was the kind of linen you wanted to dive into. To make a little nest with and hibernate in. There was also a seating area in the far corner of the room, and a massive bathroom that screamed opulence, with an outside shower situated in a private garden.
‘That bed is huge,’ Philly said.
‘I know.’ I threw myself onto it. It was so soft that I bounced a few times before coming to a stop. ‘This mattress,’ I moaned. ‘And these pillows! I wish my bed at home was like this.’
‘For your bed to be like that, you would need to do this very strange thing called “make it” and “laundry”,’ Philly quipped.
‘Ha ha. Maybe I just need to get rich enough that I can live in a place like this and someone else can make my bed and do my laundry.’
‘I do your laundry sometimes!’ Philly said.
