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She puckers her lips, her gaze nailed to mine. Then she blows out a breath. "No, it wasn't mostly you. We both participated in the arguments, and I didn't do enough to calm things down."
"I think we just didn't know how to handle not having our kids around anymore."
"Are you offering the empty-nest defense?"
"Yes."
She crosses her legs and gazes out at the ocean. "Maybe we did suffer from that. But we also simply lost interest in each other. Can you remember the last time we had sex? Before we came here, I mean."
"No, I can't remember. That's pathetic, isn't it?"
Vanessa turns halfway toward me, laying her arm across the bench's back. "We both started working out more and got in better shape. But it doesn't seem like we did that to attract lovers. Of course, I have no idea what your love life has been like. Mine has been...depressingly dull."
Though I worry her answer might wreck me, I feel like I need to ask. "Have you, uh, slept with other men?"
She averts her gaze, but only for a moment. Then she looks at me, though she swallows hard enough I can see the movement in her throat. "I slept with two men, but those experiences were disappointing. I only dated three men. What about you?"
"I had sex with one woman, but we both realized immediately afterward that we'd made a mistake. I dated five women, but nothing ever worked out." I turn toward her, resting my elbow on the bench's back. "Why do you think we could never make it work with anybody else?"
"You want it to mean that we belong together."
"I want to know what you think."
She taps one finger on the bench. "Before I tell you that, I need to know why you divorced me. The real reason, not the vague bullshit you gave me at the time."
What I need to tell her will sound stupid, but I can't help that. If she accepts my reasoning for the divorce, then maybe I'll tell her about the trick I played to get her on this island. No, I can't ever tell her that. But keeping the secret would make me the world's biggest jackass.
I take a deep breath and just do it. "The truth is---"
Vanessa's phone chimes, indicating a new text. She fumbles with getting the phone out of the little purse she has draped diagonally across her body. Once she manages to bring out her phone, she makes a sheepish face. "Sorry. I forgot I signed up for a shopping trip to Suva. That's in Fiji."
Maybe this is a cosmic sign that it's too early for me to tell her everything. Or maybe I'm just a coward who's relieved I've been given a reprieve.
But then I get a great idea. "Could I come along on that trip? Or is it for the ladies only?"
"Anyone can go." She eyes me with suspicion. "Why do you want to join a shopping trip? You hate that kind of thing."
Time for a bit of honesty, even if it's embarrassing. "I'd like to spend time with you, even if we aren't getting back together. We started out as friends. Can't we try to get back to that? I miss talking to you, Nessa."
She glances at her phone, then sighs. "It is a group shopping excursion. And I'd like us to be friends again too, so you might as well come along."
Not exactly an enthusiastic invitation, but I'll take it.
Chapter Eleven
Vanessa
Our trip to Suva begins with a hike to the grass airstrip where all guests land when they first come to the island. The resort has two planes, one four-seater and another that can accommodate a dozen passengers plus the pilot, Rene Walker. He's quite a character, and he reminds me of Crocodile Dundee, though not only because he's Australian. He has that same devil-may-care attitude and sense of humor. But Rene doesn't wear the Crocodile Dundee outfit. Instead, he dresses like a beach bum.
Emilio has come along to be our tour guide and keep us from wandering off and getting lost.
Craig and I wind up sitting in the two seats closest to the cockpit, though a narrow aisle separates us. We're close enough to chat, but the couple in front of us insists on being friendly, and they are a genuinely nice, cheerful pair. I can tell Craig is disappointed that he doesn't have me all to himself, though he doesn't let it show enough that anyone else would notice.
I can't deny that I'm slightly relieved by this development. It gives me a reprieve from discussing our shared past.
The hour-long flight goes by quickly thanks to our new friends, Dale and Marcy Hicks. They're older than Craig and I are, and they're also the only senior-citizen couple on Heirani Motu. I never would have imagined that seniors would want to visit a nudist resort. Of course, we all had to wear clothes for our trip to Suva. Craig stunned me by wearing a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. I've never seen him dressed that way before, not even when we actually went to Hawaii. He doesn't like shorts.
Yet he's wearing them. And he has no problem going nude.
