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As for me, my one and only complaint is I fall further and further in love with a woman who thinks we’re getting a divorce.
We watch the tropical storm pelt the windows of our room. We take turns reading to each other from the thriller novel she brought for the plane ride. We play card games.
And I take her again and again, in every way possible. What can I say? Watching her come might be my new addiction.
Scratch that: every way possible, except one.
We won’t be doingthat.
Even with a condom. Even with Kala on the pill. Although a risk-taker, I’m unwilling to bring an unwanted child into the world.
Because I know what it’s like to be unwanted from birth.
Here, with her, I am wanted.
I’m happy.
I thought I enjoyed lazing in bed while other people did productive things. Suffice it to say that Kala makes staying in bed a thousand times more productive.
I’m not known for a long refractory period, but this woman does something supernatural to me.
We eventually move from the bed to the tub, from the tub to the veranda, where we watch the rain, order a truckload of room service, and plot how we might attempt to contact the outside world.
“I could bribe one of the bodyguards,” she suggests. Gods, I love watching her eat fruit like she’s never seen a pineapple before. When Kala eats pineapple, she talks with her mouth full—a rare glimpse.
“No joy. I promise you my father has paid them more.”
Kala wags her eyebrows and shoots me a coy look. “I could set my feminism aside and flirt with one of them.”
“No.”
“It’s guaranteed to work,” she protests.
“Absolutely not.”
She blinks at me. “What is your voice doing right now? You sound like your father when he’s about to start shouting.”
For some reason, this sends my hackles way up. “I’m not going to shout at you, and I’m not angry.”
“You sound a little upset,” she says.
“No flirting with the bodyguards.”
She pauses, and I feel a flush of heat as the truth dawns. “Is the carefree Bad Boy Prince actually jealous?”
“No.”
She takes a sip of her lemon tea and studies me.
“If you say so.”
“Can we move on now? Bribery won’t work.”
Kala gently swings in her egg chair and stares out at the sea, contemplating. I know I should strategize and offer ideas, but I’m too busy staring at Kala’s steepled index fingers that tap against her bottom lip.
I am mesmerized until she sits up abruptly, her spine straight as an arrow.
“The housekeepers.”
