22. Tyler
TYLER
The rest of the flight passes in a blur of excitement, the boys' energy only increasing as we neared our destination. When the plane begins its descent into Nassau, the crystalline blue waters of the Bahamas coming into view below us, even Ginger can't contain her amazement.
"It's like something from a postcard," she breathes, pressing her face to the window like the boys. "I've never seen water that color."
"Wait until you see it up close," I promise, enjoying her wonder almost as much as the view itself.
The villa exceeds even my expectations. Perched on a small rise overlooking a secluded cove, it balances luxury with restraint—sun-soaked spaces that welcomed the sea breeze, a wide veranda embracing the structure, and a winding path that led directly to powder-fine sand that squeaked beneath our feet.
"THIS IS THE BEST PLACE EVER!" Karl shouts, having completed his initial exploration and returned to the main living area where the adults were still taking in the view. "There's a pool AND the ocean! And my room has BUNK BEDS! And there's a tree with COCONUTS!"
"Indoor voice, please," Ginger reminds him, though her own expression suggests she shared his enthusiasm. "But yes, it's pretty amazing."
"Can we go to the beach NOW?" Julian asks, bouncing on his toes. "Please?"
I glance at Ginger, who nods her approval. "Sure, why not? Everything else can wait."
"YES!" the boys cheer in unison, already racing toward the bedrooms where, as promised, new vacation wardrobes await them.
"Should we..." Ginger gestures vaguely toward the hallway. "I mean, you mentioned swimsuits..."
"Everything's in the master bedroom," I confirm with a smile. "Though fair warning—Julian had some input on the selections."
Her eyebrows rise. "Should I be concerned?"
"Let's just say his taste runs toward the... vibrant."
Ginger laughs, shaking her head. "I can't wait to see what flamingo-adorned monstrosity awaits me."
As it turns out, Julian's selections were surprisingly tasteful, if colorful. Ginger emerges from the bedroom a few minutes later in a turquoise sundress over a modest navy swimsuit, looking slightly self-conscious but undeniably lovely.
"This is..." she gestures at the outfit, "really nice. Thank you."
"Don't thank me," I smile, having changed into swim trunks and a lightweight shirt myself.
"Julian insisted on final approval for everything.
He's developed quite the eye for fashion.
I did veto his first three choices, which all featured flamingos in alarming poses.
His fashion sense runs toward 'tropical bird gone wild. '"
"Unlike his father?" she teases, eyeing my standard beach attire.
"Hey, some of us prioritize function over fashion," I defend. "Not all of us can be style icons like Julian Reed."
"MOM! DAD! HURRY UP!" Karl's voice interrupts from the veranda, where he and Julian have already assembled a small mountain of beach toys that I don't remember packing.
Ginger and I exchange a look, both noticing but not commenting on Karl's casual use of "Dad" in his excitement. It had been happening more frequently over the past months—occasional slips from both boys that we'd silently agreed not to make a big deal about.
"Coming!" I call back, offering Ginger my hand. "Ready for your first proper beach experience, Ms. Lawson?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," she smiles, lacing her fingers through mine.
Julian's tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth as he sculpts a perfect turret, while Karl digs a moat deep enough to reach damp sand that held its shape.
"Dad! We need more shells for the drawbridge!
" Sand clings to my calves as I jog to the water's edge, dodging the waves that foam around my ankles.
Later, the boys hurl themselves into the surf, emerging with hair plastered to their foreheads and salt-water grins, shouting "Did you see how high I jumped?
" The sun climbs higher, beating against our sunscreen-slick shoulders.
By mid-afternoon, the boys' mad dashes slow to trudges.
We float on brightly colored inflatables, my fingertips wrinkling as I trail them through water so clear I could count the ripples in the sand below.
Coconut sunscreen mingle with salt on my upper lip.
Each wave laps against the shore with a gentle shush-shush that matches my slowing heartbeat.
Palm fronds clink like wind chimes overhead, their shadows dancing across the sand that sparkles like crushed diamonds in the relentless Caribbean sun.
"This is paradise," Ginger sighs, drifting beside me on a float while the boys excavate an elaborate trench system a few yards up the beach. "I may never leave."
"That can be arranged," I offer, only half-joking. "I know a guy who knows a guy."
She laughs, trailing her fingers through the crystal-clear water. "Tempting. Very tempting."
"Just say the word," I smile, watching the sun play across her face. With her hair damp from swimming, her skin already taking on a slight golden hue, she looks more relaxed than I'd ever seen her—the perpetual tension she carries in her shoulders absent for once.
"I can see why people pay obscene amounts of money for this," she muses, gesturing at the panoramic beauty surrounding us. "It feels like all the problems of the real world... can't reach here."
"That's the idea," I nod. "Though I'll admit, my problems seem less problematic with you in my life, regardless of the setting."
She turns her head to look at me, a soft smile playing at her lips. "That was alarmingly romantic, Reed. Are you feeling okay? Too much sun, perhaps?"
"Must be," I agree solemnly. "Because I was thinking that you look like something out of a dream right now, and that's definitely not my usual style."
"Definitely sunstroke," she diagnoses, though her cheeks flushed pleasingly at the compliment. "We should get you into the shade before you start composing poetry or something equally alarming."
"Too late," I warn. "I've already got a sonnet half-formed. Something about eyes and tropical skies..."
She splashes water in my direction, laughing. "Stop it! You're terrible."
"Terribly in love," I correct, reaching across the small gap between our floats to capture her hand. "And not at all sorry about it."
Her expression softens all teasing fading away. "Me neither," she admit quietly. "Not even a little bit sorry."
We might have drifted like that indefinitely, lost in our own private bubble of contentment, if not for the inevitable interruption of two energetic boys who decide that adult relaxation had gone on quite long enough.
"CANNONBALL!" was our only warning before twin splashes drench us both, upending our floats and sending us ungracefully into the warm water.
I surface to find Julian and Karl doubled over with laughter at their successful ambush.
"You should have seen your FACES!" Karl gasp between fits of giggles.
"Complete surprise," Julian agrees, high-fiving his partner in crime. "Epic splash attack successful!"
"Oh, it's war now," I declare, advancing on the boys with exaggerated menace. "No mercy for splash attackers!"
What followed was an all-out water battle that leaves everyone soaked and breathless with laughter. By the time we call a truce and head back to the villa for dinner, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in spectacular shades of orange and pink.
"I'm starving," Julian announces as we trudged up the path from the beach. "Can we have pizza?"
"In the Bahamas?" I raise an eyebrow. "Seems like a waste of local cuisine opportunities."
"Actually," Ginger interjects, "after a day of sun and swimming, pizza sounds kind of perfect."
"Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!" Karl begins to chant, Julian joining in.
"I see I'm outnumbered," I concede with a laugh. "Pizza it is."
While we wait for dinner to be delivered (a service the villa management had assured me extended even to our somewhat remote location), we all shower off the sand and salt, changing into more comfortable wear.
"This place does have everything," Ginger comments, emerging from the master bathroom wrapped in what appeared to be the world's fluffiest towel. "That shower had more settings than my car."
"Only the best for the Lawson-Reed beach adventure," I smile, already dressed in loose linen pants and a T-shirt. "I specifically requested a shower that could double as a space shuttle control panel. Nothing says 'luxury vacation' like needing an engineering degree to wash your hair."
She pauses at that, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Lawson-Reed," she repeats. "Has a nice ring to it."
Before I could respond to what feels like a significant moment, a commotion from the main room announces the boys have discovered the villa's entertainment system.
"DAD! MOM! THEY HAVE EVERY MOVIE EVER MADE!" Julian's excited voice carries down the hallway. "AND A SCREEN BIGGER THAN OUR TV AT HOME!"
"We should supervise their selections before they find something traumatizing," Ginger suggests with a smile. "Rain check on that conversation?"
"Absolutely," I agree, though I filed away her reaction for future reference. Lawson-Reed. It does have a nice ring to it.
Pizza and a movie transitions to ice cream on the veranda, watching stars emerge in a sky unpolluted by city lights. The boys, despite insisting they weren't tired at all, fall asleep mid-conversation, curled up on the oversized outdoor sofa like puppies in a basket.
"Should we wake them to go to bed?" I whisper to Ginger, watching Julian's chest rise and fall in the peaceful rhythm of deep sleep.
She shook her head. "Let them sleep. It's warm enough, and they're comfortable. No reason to disturb them."
I nod, gathering scattered ice cream bowls and carrying them inside. When I return, Ginger had moved to the veranda railing, gazing out at the moonlit ocean with a pensive expression.
"Penny for your thoughts," I say softly, coming to stand beside her.