Chapter 13
It’s not easy to sneak around when they’re constantly surrounded by the brides-to-be.
Charlotte and Riley have to work to keep finding excuses to touch each other in public, making it seem innocent but necessary.
They share glances, virtually exchanging images of their heated memories through their eyes, and when there’s an opportunity to lean in and whisper something outright filthy to make the other desperate to go to one of their rooms with a serious sense of urgency, they gladly jump at it.
It takes Charlotte two afternoons, a list of rejected ideas, and one major breakdown during which she comes very close to blowing the whole thing off, but she has finally managed to construct her impromptu date plans. She decides to be cute and mysterious about it when she texts Riley.
'Tomorrow, noon, reception. Bring sunscreen and a swimsuit. We’re telling G Charlotte strains to be able to catch any words, but she’s got nothing.
“Alright, I have to go get a new book for Gabi,” Lou eventually says, holding her fist out for Charlotte. Charlotte bumps it and asks: “Can’t she do that herself?”
“She can,” Lou grins, then shrugs. “But I’m her wife-to-be. Happy wife…”
“Ugh, lesbians,” Riley scrunches up her nose and dismisses Lou with a wave of her hand. “Go please your babe!”
“Go please yours!” Lou shouts back, evoking a death-stare from Riley and a shocked look from Charlotte. “I mean, your bud, your maid of honor in crime, you know what I mean!”
As Lou disappears from sight, Charlotte turns on her heel and stoically marches to the exit of the hotel. “I’m just gonna pretend that didn’t happen.”
“What didn’t happen?” Riley asks as she hobbles along. Charlotte isn’t sure whether she’s serious or not, so she makes that decision for her.
“Exactly.”
Charlotte gestures for Riley to get into the cab she had asked the receptionist to call for, and hands a paper with the address to the driver.
As they drive along the beach to a spot a little further than where they’ve been before, Riley does not stop voicing her thoughts.
Her guesses range from horseback riding to sand castle building.
If her yapping hadn’t made her look so adorably nervous about the date, Charlotte would’ve shut her up long before they turned the second corner.
The driver eventually drops them off on a small road leading to the sea, and as soon as Charlotte has paid and thanked the driver in broken Spanish—with Riley beaming next to her—she gets a little self-conscious about her plans.
They follow the path and end up near a rotten dock and a small boat house with one of the windows smashed in.
“Idyllic,” Riley remarks, and Charlotte punches her in the bicep.
“It’s hard to plan something when you can’t ask the expert planner for advice.”
“Is that your way of saying you needed me?”
“I most certainly did not.” Charlotte gives her a pointed look. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Once inside, Charlotte uses her hands, feet, and a little paper with the reservation number on it to communicate what she’s there for. Riley dutifully refuses to intervene, and Charlotte immediately regrets telling her she didn’t need her help, but she’s also too stubborn to take her words back.
It’s a small miracle when the boathouse clerk finally leads them outside onto the dock, coming to a halt near a slightly damaged, off-white speedboat. He hands Charlotte a set of keys and two bags of snorkel equipment.
“Buena suerte,” he says, void of any emotion, and disappears back into the house.
“Not a word,” Charlotte says, holding up a finger as she takes their assigned boat in. In her peripherals, Riley mimes zipping her lips.
Charlotte decides to bite the bullet and throws the equipment followed by her own tote into the speedboat, before crawling in herself. Driven by a need to be chivalrous, she turns around and extends a hand for Riley to take.
Riley, who is usually the protective one, makes a small uncomfortable sound in the back of her throat when she steps into the boat with Charlotte’s help.
“You good?” Charlotte checks in, steadying Riley by the hips.
“Yeah,” comes the hoarse reply. “So what’s the plan, exactly?”
“I was gonna take us snorkeling to see the reefs,” Charlotte explains. “Supposedly there are sea turtles too.”
“Cool, cool,” Riley says, taking in her surroundings in the small boat. “Cool,” she repeats, and sits down on a plastic bench.
“You don’t seem cool, cool, cool,” Charlotte dryly remarks. “Do you not like snorkeling?”
“Love snorkeling. Not a huge fan of boats.”
Shit. Of course. She should’ve checked with Riley before booking.
“I am so sorry,” Charlotte utters awkwardly. “Uhm, we don’t have to do this. We can just go for a walk, or—”
“It’s fine.” Riley’s smile is a little pained. “As long as we can take a break when I need it. I would really love to see the turtles. I’m fine in the water. It’s being in the boat that makes me sick.”
“Of course we can take breaks,” Charlotte promises. “You tell me whatever you need, okay?”
Riley laughs and looks up at her with an undefined sparkle in her eye. “I will.”