33. Cataleya
“You said you wanted to travel, right?” Christian asks me as the private jet begins its descent over the tropical island paradise.
“Yeah, but I never imagined this!” I reply, looking out at the pristine blue waters of the Maldives.
I’ve never seen anything like it. A series of islands that appear, from above, like a string of milky pearls in the deep blue expanse of the Indian Ocean. When Christian offered to plan a surprise honeymoon, I never thought we’d end up here.
“It’s perfect,” I say, tearing my eyes away from the window, and giving him a smile.
“We haven’t even touched down yet!” He laughs, taking my hand in his.
“I don’t care, it’s already perfect,” I repeat, before leaning forward to kiss him.
It turns out, I was right. The main island of Malé is a tiny little crescent housing the archipelago’s only airport, but even this place is a paradise. I wonder where we’re staying, but Christian insists on keeping it as a surprise. It’s not until he brings me to the marina that I realize we’re not staying on Malé at all.
Instead, Christian helps me aboard a speedboat, while the porter collects our bags and deposits them onboard beside us.
“This is incredible,” I tell Christian as the boat sputters out into the crystal clear waters.
“It only gets better.”
With that, Christian puts his arm around me, pulling me in for a kiss.
“Better hold on!” the captain shouts over the outboard motor.
A moment later, we’re speeding across the water toward another island. Each tiny ripple sends the boat bouncing into the air and I half-scream, half-laugh the whole way there.
As we approach the island, I catch sight of a series of floating houses. At least, they appear to be floating. Each one is an ample home, magically suspended above the crystal blue waters surrounding the island.
The boat slows, and Christian turns to me, smiling.
“Our new home for the week,” he announces happily.
“Are you serious?” I ask, incredulous.
Once again, Christian has outdone himself, and as I look between him and the floating houses, I’m struck by something remarkable. Here, in this island paradise, on this speedboat, in this resort, we’re not the Prince and Princess of Solvaria. We’re just Christian and Cataleya.
The effect is only amplified when we check in.
“Mr. and Mrs. Vanecourt?” the receptionist asks with a warm smile. “We’ve been expecting you.”
I feel a little thrill at hearing our names like that. And what’s more, not a single person here will call me Your Highness. It feels like a breather, one that I’m very excited about.
The receptionist leads us across a series of piers to our floating home, and the moment I step inside, it takes my breath away. I’ve seen, of course, the castles and palaces of Solvaria, dined at some of the most exclusive restaurants in the country, and enjoyed the most impressive resorts our land has to offer.
But something about the floating home makes me feel like the luckiest woman on earth.
It’s beautiful, of course, and spacious, equipped with high-tech appliances and tastefully decorated. But it’s the homeliness that really touches me. It’s elegant, simple, and entirely ours for the next week.
“Thank you,” I tell Christian, once the receptionist has left us to ourselves. “This is so, so beautiful.”
“I want you to have the best of everything,” he replies, pulling me close.
“All I want is you,” I reply. “You’re the best of everything.”
He leans down, giving me a long, soft kiss. It really feels as if we can finally be ourselves—no media, no audience, no image to uphold. I love my new role, my new responsibilities, of course. But I also love this—the peace and simplicity of just being together.
“So, how about we start to enjoy this honeymoon?” Christian suggests, pulling away.
I look up into his eyes, knowing I would follow him absolutely anywhere.
“Lead the way,” I reply with a smile.
Christian grins back, taking me by the hand and guiding me to the huge glass doors that lead outside. As soon as we step out I gasp. From inside, all I could see was the sky, but out here I find myself on an enormous wooden deck directly on the ocean.
All I can see for miles and miles, is water. Christian guides me toward the edge of the deck, and looking down, the water is clear enough to see the bottom. The sand is pure white, tinged light blue by the water and when I look closely, I see colorful tropical fish darting back and forth through the shallows.
To our right, a ladder leads down into the water, as if the ocean were our own personal swimming pool and I let out a giggle of excitement knowing that we get to enjoy this together.
It only gets better though. After a wonderful afternoon of lazing in the sun and swimming in the warm waters, Christian leads me back across the piers and toward the beach.
“I thought we might enjoy a nice romantic dinner,” he tells me.
The sun is just dipping below the horizon, and the sky has turned a stunning purple. The water, reflecting the twilight, has turned to frosted glass, while the white sand looks ethereal in this light.
Suddenly, I see a flame flare at the waterfront, and as we approach, I catch sight of a small pergola. It stands alone on the beach, the surrounding sands entirely devoid of people, aside from one lone waiter. As we step up to the table beneath the pergola, he finishes lighting the last torch, casting the scene in a red-orange glow.
I glance over at Christian and the way the light catches his ash-blond hair and warms his skin makes him look more handsome than ever. Not for the first time, I thank my lucky stars I ended up here, with Christian as my husband.
“Mr. and Mrs. Vanecourt,” the waiter says cordially, giving a brief bow. “Dinner will be served in just a moment.
I turn to Christian again as the waiter leaves, hoping he can see the joy in my eyes.
It seems he does, because he flashes me the same look. With a familiar gesture, he pulls out my seat for me, allowing me to sit down before settling himself opposite me.
“I love this so much,” I tell him, reaching across the soft white tablecloth to take his hand.
“I’m so glad,” he says. “I really wanted to give you something special.”
I sigh contentedly, almost unable to process the happiness I’m feeling.
“It’s so much more than I expected. But honestly, you could have taken me anywhere. I’m just happy to be with you.”
Christian laughs, squeezing my hand. “Sure, but isn’t it nicer when that anywhere is a tropical island resort?”
We both laugh at this, and I nod, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I mean, admittedly, yes, but the sentiment stands.”
Christian grins at this and for a moment we just gaze at each other, enjoying the same companionable silence I remember from our first date. Not the one in the garden, but before, the day he proposed on the yacht.
I can’t believe how far we’ve come since then. In fact, looking back on it feels like looking at two entirely different people, and the thought makes my heart swell with gratitude.
The waiter comes back then with our meals—the most exquisite seafood I’ve ever seen—and a bottle of expensive white wine. After pouring two glasses, he retreats, wishing us a good evening.
“What shall we toast to?” Christian asks, holding up his glass.
“To everything,” I reply, lifting my own. “To love. To marriage. To the truth. To Solvaria. To anonymity.”
Christian laughs, catching on.
“To warm beaches. To floating houses. To you.”
“To you.”
“To us.”
“To us.”
With this, we clink glasses, our eyes remaining locked until we take the first sip. The wine is wonderful, but our words keep ringing in my ears, even as we begin to eat.
To everything. To us.
It feels like it took such a long time to get here, but now that we’ve arrived, I never want to be anywhere else.