10. Vada
VADA
My phone buzzes with notifications, but I ignore it.
"More interesting things happening right here," I agree, remembering last night when we both decided this deserves more than casual exploration. "And we decided?"
"We decided to be brave enough to try," he says, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. "Though I have a feeling today's group activities are going to provide some commentary on our decision."
My phone buzzes again, more insistently. Curiosity wins over contentment. I reach for it carefully, trying not to disturb our perfect position, and immediately understand what Emory means about commentary.
Seventeen missed texts from Maya, twelve from various wedding guests, and a flood of notifications.
"Oh no," I mutter, scrolling through messages ranging from concerned to delighted to completely inappropriate speculation about how we spent our evening.
"How bad?" Emory asks, though his arm tightens around me like he's not ready to face whatever social media chaos we've created.
I continue to scroll through comments that are equal parts sweet and invasive. "Maya's texts are the most concerning. She alternates between 'WHERE ARE YOU' and 'I hope you're having the best reunion sex of your life.'"
"Maya doesn't mess around," Emory observes.
"Never has," I agree, then catch sight of the time on my phone.
"Here's one from Erika," I stop to read it. "She rescheduled the snorkeling to this afternoon."
"We should probably get ready," he adds, though neither of us moves to extract ourselves from our position. "I'm looking forward to it. Snorkeling with you sounds perfect."
“With Derek providing running commentary about underwater chemistry?"
"Especially with Derek providing commentary," Emory says with a grin that makes my heart skip. "Because now we don't have to pretend he's wrong about the chemistry part."
Two hours later, I'm walking into the resort lobby wearing my favorite bikini under a flowy cover-up, feeling more confident than I've felt all week.
Maybe it's the way Emory stays by my side, or how his hand finds mine with natural ease, or the fact that we spent last night making up for lost time.
"THE LOVEBIRDS!" Derek's voice booms across the elegant lobby. "Ladies and gentlemen, Paradise Cove's most romantic couple has emerged from their storm sanctuary!"
Before Derek can elaborate further on his theories about our evening activities, Erika approaches with her professional photographer and the kind of excitement that means today's expedition is going to be heavily documented.
"Hi guys!" she says, gesturing for us to join the growing group of wedding guests near the lobby's seating area.
"I was just explaining today's snorkeling adventure to everyone.
We're taking the resort's catamaran to the coral reef preserve about twenty minutes offshore.
The marine life is supposed to be incredible, and we'll have a professional diving instructor plus underwater photography equipment. "
"Underwater photography?" I ask, because that suggests a level of documentation I wasn't expecting.
"Full professional setup," Erika explains with obvious delight. "Waterproof cameras, underwater videography, the works. This is going to create the most amazing destination wedding content ever."
Maya appears at my side with coffee and the expression of someone who's been waiting patiently for a full relationship debrief.
"Well, well," she says with obvious satisfaction, taking in my post-great-evening glow and the way Emory's hand is resting on my lower back. "You look like someone who had their very own storm experience."
"Maya," I warn, though I'm smiling despite myself.
"No judgment," Maya says, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Just saying that whatever happened last night clearly agreed with you."
She's not wrong.
"Alright, everyone!" The resort's activities coordinator, a cheerful woman named Esperanza, calls for attention. "Time to head to the marina for our coral reef adventure! Please remember to apply reef-safe sunscreen, and buddy system assignments will be made on the boat."
The walk to the resort's private marina is gorgeous, a winding path through tropical gardens leading to a pristine dock where an elegant catamaran waits. The boat is clearly designed for luxury excursions, with comfortable seating areas and professional diving equipment.
"I can't believe she organized all of this," I say to Emory as we settle onto the boat's cushioned seating, watching the crew prepare for departure.
"Amazing," he agrees, though his attention seems more focused on me than the stunning marine setting. "Honestly, the thought of swimming through a coral reef with you is more exciting to me than the reef itself."
"Smooth talker," I say, but my pulse quickens at the way he's looking at me.
"Just honest," he replies, leaning close. "I can’t take my eyes off you."
The boat engines start with a gentle rumble, and we begin moving away from shore toward waters that shift from tropical turquoise to deeper blues.
Other wedding guests settle into conversation and photo-taking, but I find myself content to lean against Emory's side while watching the island shrink behind us.
"Buddy assignments!" Esperanza announces once we're about ten minutes offshore. "For safety purposes, everyone needs a diving partner. I'll pair people based on experience levels and comfort in the water."
"Perfect," Derek adds loudly enough for most of the boat to hear. "Nothing more romantic than underwater exploration with your soulmate!"
"Partner diving." Indira, the captain, explains as she distributes snorkeling equipment to each pair. "You're responsible for your buddy's safety, which means staying close, checking in regularly, and watching for any signs of distress or equipment problems."
"Watching your every move," Emory says to me with a smile that suggests he's thinking about more than diving safety. "Think we can handle that?"
"I think we've gotten pretty good at that," I reply, accepting the snorkeling gear and trying not to think about how the trust required for underwater safety feels like a perfect metaphor for the relationship trust we committed to last night.
When Indira helps me adjust my mask and fins, I realize I'm more nervous about the deep water snorkeling than I expected. I've done snorkeling before, but this looks more serious.
"You okay?" Emory asks, picking up on my nervousness as we get ready to hit the water.
"Just a little nervous, I guess." I admit. "I'm a decent swimmer, but this looks more advanced than the shallow water snorkeling I've done before."
"I've got you," he says with complete confidence, checking my equipment with the thorough attention of someone who's done serious adventure travel. "We'll go slow, stay close to the boat until you're comfortable, and I'll be right beside you the entire time."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely sure," he says, and something about the certainty in his voice settles into anticipation. "Trust me?"
"Always," I say.
The first few minutes in the water are exactly what I expected—slightly overwhelming depth awareness, getting used to breathing through the snorkel, adjusting to the underwater environment.
But Emory stays exactly where he promised, close enough to touch, moving at my pace and checking in constantly with hand signals and gentle touches that keep me grounded.
And then we reach the coral reef, and everything else becomes irrelevant.
The underwater world that unfolds in front of us is more spectacular than any nature documentary could capture.
Massive coral formations in colors I didn't know existed, schools of tropical fish that move like living rainbows, sea turtles gliding through the water with ancient grace.
It's like discovering a secret universe.
Emory points out different species with obvious knowledge and enthusiasm, guiding me toward the most beautiful formations while making sure I never feel out of my depth. When a sea turtle glides directly between us, close enough to touch, we share a moment of pure wonder.
The professional underwater photographer is capturing everything without being a distraction. But I'm not thinking about content creation or social media documentation. I'm just experiencing something incredible with someone who makes everything feel more alive.
When we surface near the boat for a rest break, both breathing hard from underwater exploration, the expression on Emory's face is pure joy mixed with something deeper.
"That was amazing,” I say, treading water next to him.
"You are amazing,” he replies, and his voice has that rough quality.
"It felt safe with you," I say.
"Good," he says, moving closer in the water until we're treading water together, close enough that staying afloat becomes a team effort. "Because I want to keep showing you incredible things. Not just this week, but after."
Before I can respond to that declaration, Brad's voice carries across the water with the aggression that's been building all week.
"Looking good out there, Vada!" he shouts from where he's floating with his own diving buddy. "That bikini is perfect for underwater photography!"
The comment hits exactly wrong, in a way that makes my skin crawl. But before I can formulate a response, Emory's entire demeanor changes.
"Brad," Emory says with polite coolness that doesn't mask the warning underneath, "we're focusing on the marine life here."
"I'm sure they are," Brad continues with the persistence, "but the view I'm getting is pretty spectacular too."
The silence that follows is the kind that makes everyone else in the water suddenly aware that something inappropriate just happened. I can see others exchanging glances, and even Derek looks uncomfortable with Brad's commentary.
"Brad," Jared's voice cuts across the water with obvious embarrassment, "maybe focus on your own diving experience."
"Just making conversation," Brad says with a shrug.
"Well, make different conversation," Emory says, and his voice has dropped. "Get the fuck away from us."
The authority in his voice is unmistakable, and Brad finally seems to register that his commentary isn't going to be tolerated. He paddles away toward a different section of the reef, leaving the rest of us in blessed peace.
"Thank you," I say quietly to Emory once Brad is out of hearing range.
"Completely worth it," he says, and the way he's looking at me makes treading water feel like the most romantic thing in the world.
"What's the plan for this afternoon?" I ask when we are back on the boat, heading toward shore with wet hair and sun-warmed skin.
"Content creation session?" Emory suggests with the expression of someone who has ideas brewing. "I need to get some of my footage posted and your take on it could make it into something really special."
"I'd love that," I say, genuinely excited about helping.
As we walk back toward the resort, hand in hand and planning the rest of the day together, I realize that things moved fast. One minute we were doing downward dog, the next we were swimming with turtles, and somewhere in between we went from "maybe?" to "let's do this."
Some second chances turn out to be exactly what you needed all along.