Chapter 25
Harmony met me in the lobby of the hotel.
My daytime clothes were stuffed in a small Marriott shopping bag, but she didn’t ask about that.
She looked divine. Her hair was curled and had been woven into some intricate pattern and she wore makeup, not that she needed any.
Her white dress wasn’t quite a sundress but wasn’t the same style as the slinky cocktail dress she’d worn the night of the wedding crashing.
It was somewhere in between, but it accentuated her deep tan and, matched with her white sandals, she looked like a Greek goddess or an angel or something in between.
“Aw, look at the dogs,” she noted, pointing at a skinny mama trying to manage a litter of three puppies behind a low, chain-link fence. “Are they strays?” she asked our driver.
“Yes, Miss. The government is working on the stray dog population here.”
“Will they harm the animals?” Harmony asked.
“So far, that has not been the case. They seek to trap, neuter, and release them. But it is a growing concern.”
I could see the worry furrow into her brow, but thankfully, before it could set in, the driver took a right and pulled into the Aruba Ocean Villas entrance.
“Enjoy your time,” he said. I paid the fare, walked around to her side of the car, opened her door, and offered my hand. She smiled and took it.
“Such a gentleman,” she said.
“I try,” I replied, leading her to the restaurant entrance.
It was truly magnificent; walking into The Old Man and the Sea was like walking through a tropical rainforest. Lush greenery surrounded a full bar, dazzling lights were draped around the perimeter of the walkway, and it opened up onto the beach, where tables were placed artfully in the sand.
I gave my name at the hostess stand, and we were escorted out onto the beach, past all the tables, straight toward the water.
Another walkway, this one elevated above the gently lapping waves of the Caribbean Sea, lit on either edge by blown glass lanterns with candles burning, led us to our private dining table.
“Holy shit,” I heard Harmony say under her breath.
The smile that spread across my face was impossible to contain.
The overwater cabana was exactly as it looked in the photo that enticed me to book this place in the first place. Most romantic dining in paradise, indeed. It had the same aesthetic as our bungalow. Classy, chic, island luxury through and through.
We had a dedicated server named Fernando.
He seated Harmony and me, handed us our menus, poured San Pellegrino from a large green bottle into our glasses, and recommended a particular type of champagne I’d never heard of before.
Harmony looked hesitant; everything was fairly pricey, and I could see her nervously tabulating how much this might cost me.
“Hey,” I whispered when Fernando went to get the bottle of champagne because I went ahead and ordered it, not caring about its price tag. “It’s jackpot money. Don’t even worry for a second about it.”
She nodded. “Okay,” she said. She took a deep breath.
“You all right?”
“I am. I promised my mom I’d let myself enjoy this night.”
I reached for her hand. “Listen,” I said. My thumb grazed her palm, and I watched our fingers weave together as if they belonged together. “We can call it after dinner if you’re nervous. I understand. There’s no pressure to do anything other than share this meal.”
“Thank you,” she smiled. “It’s not that, though.”
“Then what is it?”
“I just really like you.”
“Well,” I replied, lightly moving my thumb back and forth over hers, “that feeling is entirely mutual.”
Fernando came with the champagne. He popped the bottle and filled our flutes, then placed it in an ice stand beside our table.
He asked if we would care to start with an appetizer.
I ordered the ceviche; Harmony chose the Mediterranean salad.
Fernando left to inform the kitchen of our selections as we perused the rest of the menu.
“This is too much,” Harmony said.
“Too much what?” I asked. “I already told you, it’s casino money.”
“The whole thing. It’s so beautiful. I’ve never had a meal in such incredible ambience.”
“Good,” I replied. “Have you decided what you’ll have for dinner?”
“The lobster à la vodka sounds amazing.”
“So you should get it.”
“How about you?”
“I’m going to go with the twelve-ounce rib eye.”
We placed our dinner orders, then settled into the table and its surrounding scenery.
Piano music wafted through some hidden speaker somewhere, sweetening the air.
We talked and laughed about the events of the week, recounting highlights and favorite moments.
After the most spectacular ceviche I’d ever had and a salad that looked like it had been handpicked from a sustainable island farm moments before being arranged on Harmony’s plate, I held out a hand to her.
“Would you like to dance with me?”
“I would love to.”
We stood, set our cloth napkins down on the table, and moved back and forth in each other’s arms in time with the background music. I leaned down and kissed her, tasting vinaigrette on her lips, happier than I’d ever been in my life.
I set the book down. It’s hard to read this knowing what came next.
We ate. It was delectable, every morsel the food of royalty. The champagne worked its magic and made the already perfect space sparkle with the glitter of contentment that can only occur when worry is fully abandoned.
We danced and laughed and watched the sun set on our last full day in paradise.
We shared the most delectable chocolate layer cake.
The bill came, and Beckett just signed the receipt. He didn’t have to hand over a credit card or put down cash or anything. He just handed the folio back to Fernando and thanked him for a lovely evening.
“Did you prepay?” I asked, confused.
“Nope,” he replied. “I charged it to my room.”
I was too tipsy to understand. “This place is owned by the Marriott? Well, kudos to them. This is way nicer than our spot.”
“No, silly. I got a room here.”
“You did?”
“A bungalow, actually.”
The weight of what he wasn’t saying sank in, but with my nerves satiated by food and champagne, all I could do was laugh. “Seriously?”
He held up a key. “We don’t have to use it, but yeah, seriously. That was the only way to get the table.”
“Wait. What?”
“It’s policy. The private dining is only available to people staying here in the villas. So I booked a room. I really wanted to give you a perfect meal.”
My face went stoic.
“I hope it’s okay.”
The thing was, it was so much more than okay. It was more than anything anyone I’d ever been with before had done for me, and I was stunned at the gesture. How he’d given it so freely—to me. I couldn’t find the words to say all that. Instead, I just said the words that appeared on my tongue.
“Take me there. I want to see it.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
Beckett smiled, laced my fingers in his own, and led me to the most striking little beach hut I’d ever laid eyes on. He unlocked the door and motioned for me to open it.
It was called Joy.
“Appropriate,” I said, tugging on his shirt to pull him in close to me.
I inhaled the air. It was a sweet-scented combination of coconut, aloe, cedar, and something else I couldn’t quite place.
Some of it was Beckett, some of it was the room.
“It smells so good in here,” I commented, placing my hands on his cheeks, drawing his lips down to mine for a kiss.
He stayed very still while my tongue grazed his bottom lip, tasting the remnants of champagne and chocolate from our dessert. “Incense,” he whispered.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mm hmm. Supposed to bring luck. It’s in that basket over there. Bread and sugar too,” he added.
“For what?” I wondered, puckering sweetly and planting a kiss on his closed lips.
“You’re supposed to burn all of it, apparently. I was told it brings love and prosperity onto the year.”
“Arubans and their traditions,” I grinned.
“I think it’s nice,” he said. “Maybe later we can light it.”
“Sure,” I agreed, kissing him again. “But first, I have other things in mind.”
“Such as?”
“Take this off,” I requested, pulling at his belt.
“You first,” he replied. His fingers skimmed the edge of my dress.
“Gladly,” I said. I almost didn’t recognize myself.
This man made me feel every sensation so intensely, it was as if there was fire running through my veins, sparklers igniting from my fingertips with every touch of his skin on mine.
I was more than happy to rid myself of any fabric that tried to get between my flesh and his, so I lifted the dress up and pulled it over my head, dropping it on the floor.
I turned and walked over to the massive bed, shrouded in sheer curtains that hung from the high, peaked ceiling.
It was adorned with pillows in a variety of colors, which would probably have made typical me feel like the white lace of my bra and matching thong was boring.
Plain, like vanilla ice cream. But not on this night. I was electric.
Alive.
I could feel Beckett’s eyes on my ass as I walked away from him, enticing him to follow me.
I spun around and kicked off my shoes before climbing up onto the bed.
The down of the comforter, coupled with what must have been some mattress engineered by God himself, was the most inviting feeling on my bare limbs, and I collapsed right in the middle of it, sinking into the soft, clean linens. “Come here,” I murmured.
“Hang on,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked. I couldn’t help noticing the subtle adjustment he made to himself as he slid his hand into his pocket.
“I just—you’re so beautiful, Mel—I want to burn this image into my brain. You have no idea what you do to me.”
“So show me.”
He nodded, then stepped out of his shoes and strode toward me.