How to Honeymoon Alone

“You took pictures of turtles for your students,” Phillip says without opening his eyes. His hands are beneath his head. He looks relaxed while soaking up the sun, with a faint smile stretching over his lips. “So you’re working, too, Ms. Goody Two-shoes, and don’t try to pretend otherwise.”

“So, what do you do for a living, then?”

“I’m an attorney.”

My mind conjures up an immediate image of high-rises and conference tables, and endless nights in front of the lit-up computer screen. “Wow,” I say, drawing out the vowel.

“Whatever you’re thinking-”

“Is probably correct, right?”

There’s silence beside me. And then, the admission. “Probably.”

I chuckle. “Good thing you treat yourself to nice holidays then. Did you enjoy your drink with the little umbrella?”

“The drink, yes,” he says.

“Want another one?” I get up off my sprawl and start making my way back toward the galley. We haven’t taken full advantage of the open bar.

“Eden!” Phillip calls. “No umbrella!”

“I can’t hear you!” I call back.

He gets an umbrella.

Three of them, in fact, in three separate rum punches. I’m on my second when the dinner is served at the back- the stern-of the boat. Anchored in a turquoise bay on the exclusive west coast, not far away from the Winter Resort, with the setting sun as our backdrop.

I sit down on a chair with a small sigh of wonder. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m doing this, seeing this. I can’t believe I’m here without Caleb.

Phillip clears his throat. It breaks me out of my thoughts, and I look across the table to see him extending a hand.

“Pardon?” I ask.

“Give me your phone,” he says. “You’d like a picture of yourself here with the sunset, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, good thinking! Thanks!”

He mutters something about having a lot of practice, but there’s a half smile on his lips, too. The drinks have served their purpose.

Jamie and a fellow deckhand, Aaron, serve us grilled mahi-mahi, salad, roasted potatoes, and another round of drinks. It’s one of the best meals I’ve ever had-fresh from the ocean, on a boat floating softly on the waves.

That’s when I strike.

“So,” I say, cutting through my fish. “There were rose petals on deck?”

Phillip groans. His hair has dried, curling slightly at the ends, and he brushes it back off his brow. “Yes.”

“You know, I’ve made some assumptions about that.”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“Of course, you have,” he says and reaches for his drink. “Think you could stop?”

“Not likely. So, Phillip Meyer. Are you here on your honeymoon, too?”

He looks out over the waves and doesn’t answer me. It had been a guess. It could have been any kind of couple’s trip, really, but his silence…

“Oh, you are,” I say. “Damn.”

He waves a hand as if to dismiss the entire subject. “Yeah, this trip was planned for two.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. What happened happened,” he says. But his gaze is on the water like he’s expecting it to throw him a life buoy.

“I never thought I’d meet anyone else here in the same position as me.”

“Someone who didn’t want the vacation days they’d so painstakingly carved out of their schedule to go to waste?” he says. “Because that’s me.”

That makes me chuckle. “But you’re still working, though.”

His eyes flash to mine, but then he sighs. “Yes, but not as much, and with a much nicer view. Chicago this time of year is… well.”

“I totally get that. I’m from Washington State, and it’s not exactly sunny,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t know about you, but we couldn’t get refunds on anything. Not the flight and not most of the hotel stay.”

He makes a humming sound and then falls quiet. There’s something about his impossibility and unpredictability-Who sits down at another person’s table? Who invites them along on a private catamaran cruise?-that makes him easy to talk to. It’s like he exists apart from my usual life, apart from the rules of the universe I know and accept.

“Does that mean your ex-fiancé is here, too?” he asks, fingers drumming on the table. “Hiding in a different hotel room and on different catamaran cruises?”

“Oh God, no. I told him I’m keeping the honeymoon. Going to the Caribbean had been my dream. I’ve planned this trip and done the research. I was the one who read the guidebook cover to cover.” I shrug, a bit embarrassed about the force in my words. “Teacher’s pet, you know?”

On that vision board as a teenager, I had a Caribbean beach, yes. But beside it, there was also the Eiffel Tower, the logo of my dream college, my favorite Virginia Wolfe quote, a woman enjoying her run, and various other things I thought I wanted out of life. I never became a runner, and I haven’t been to Paris.

But damn it, I’m finally in the Caribbean, and it’s a tick on my bucket list.

Phillip is still tapping his fingers along the edge of the table. “I get it. You really wanted to come here.”

I nod. “I really, really did.”

“Well, my entire itinerary is planned for two.”

“No refunds for you, either?”

“None,” he says with a half smile. “Eden, you should take advantage of it.”

“Of your itinerary?”

“Yeah. All of it is pre-paid. You haven’t been too annoyed by me today, have you? On this giant boat?”

“Only when you spend time on your phone instead of the views.”