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Everything about this place screams luxury.
“That shower is the size of my entire bathroom at home,” I say.
Phillip chuckles behind me. “Yeah, it’s larger than it needs to be.”
“Fits a family of four, too.” I walk through to the spacious master bedroom. This is the room I’ve seen while peeking through the sliding doors. They’re half-open now and let in the familiar sound of Bajan nightlife. Chirps and serenading insects.
His bed is larger than the one in my room. A continental king. It’s neatly made, the pillows stacked into an inviting headrest. The TV is on, but the program is paused.
I read the caption on the screen. “No way.”
There’s a sigh beside me. “It’s good.”
“You’re watching a sports documentary?”
“Yes.”
“No JFK assassination tonight?”
“No, I’m saving that for tomorrow.” He steps past me to the minibar. It’s beautifully built into the mahogany cabinetry that combines the master bedroom with the living room, in an open floor plan. “Want a drink?”
“Yes, please.”
He sets to work with the array of small bottles and mixers he has in the fridge. I spot a plate of beautifully arranged fruit hidden in there.
Oh, to be staying in a bungalow.
There’s a suitcase in the corner next to a walk-in closet. His shirts hang neatly in a row on the left side of the rod.
I want to snoop and I can’t. Turning, I catch sight of a bundle of papers next to a beautiful arrangement of tropical flowers on a table.
The top page has the worditineraryprinted on it.
“Oh,” I say. “I’ve found it!”
Phillip glances over from the drink-making. “Did you bring your guidebook so you could compare notes?”
“No, but I should’ve.” I pick it up and start reading. There are names at the top.Honeymoon in Barbados for Mr. and Mrs. Meyer.Below is a detailed itinerary. Pickup at 06:00 from 113 Row Street, Chicago. Takeoff from O’Hare at 09:00, arrival in Bridgetown at 17:45.
“She wrote it using military time?” I ask.
Phillip adds ice into two glasses. “I requested it,” he says. “It’s more accurate. No risk of confusion.”
I smile down at the itinerary. “I thought you said you weren’t involved in the planning.”
“Not much.”
“But you requested the fishing trip.”
“Yeah, I did.”
I flip through the papers. Day by day, activities are laid out. Some of them, I know for a fact, he hasn’t done. Fruit carving with resort staff?
“You planned to scuba dive?”
He shakes his head. “I was never going to do it. She was interested in trying.”
“Why aren’t you?”
