23. Luca
Luca
The resort gates slide open, and our SUV follows the winding drive through towering palm trees toward the private villas tucked along the shoreline. The ocean flashes between the trees every few seconds, impossibly blue beneath the late-morning sun.
Sarah hasn’t stopped looking out the window since we landed. She turns toward me for what has to be the tenth time.
“This can’t actually be where we’re staying.”
“It is.”
She looks back outside.
“No.”
A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“Yes.”
She narrows her eyes at me before turning back toward the window as the villa comes into view.
The driver slows to a stop beneath a covered entrance framed by white stone columns.
Beyond it, the villa stretches toward the beach, every room facing the ocean.
Floor-to-ceiling windows reflect the water, and a narrow infinity pool disappears into the horizon until it’s almost impossible to tell where the pool ends and the Caribbean begins.
Sarah doesn’t move. The valet opens her door.
“Welcome—“
“I am not missing this.”
Sarah climbs out before he can finish, turning in a slow circle as the warm breeze catches her hair.
“Oh my God.”
I step out beside her, unable to stop smiling.
“This isn’t real.”
“It is.”
She points toward the water.
“That’s our beach.”
She spins back toward me.
“That pool is ours.”
“It is.”
She looks at the villa again, then back at me.
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“You’ve been saying ‘oh my God’ for the last thirty seconds.”
“I know!”
She laughs, grabbing both of my hands.
“I don’t care.”
She pulls me a few steps closer to the edge of the patio.
“Luca.”
“Yeah, Baby Girl?”
She looks out at the ocean again, her eyes wide with wonder.
“It’s beautiful.”
The concierge begins explaining the villa behind us, pointing out amenities neither of us is listening to.
Sarah has already wandered toward the edge of the patio, stopping before the sand.
The breeze lifts the hem of her sundress as she hugs herself and stares out over the water like she’s trying to memorize every shade of blue.
The concierge finishes showing us around before wishing us a pleasant stay. Once we’re finally alone, I carry our luggage into the bedroom and set it beside the walk-in closet.
My attention drifts to the larger suitcase for a moment.
Beneath a week’s worth of clothes, hidden inside the zippered compartment, is a small velvet box that hasn’t left my thoughts since we walked out of the jewelry store.
I know exactly where it is, and in a few days, if everything goes according to plan, it won’t be there anymore.
I leave the suitcase where it is and look back through the open patio doors.
Sarah is still outside, taking her time as she walks along the edge of the patio.
She stops every few steps to look at something else—the pool, the beach, the water stretching out in front of the villa.
She hasn’t even set foot inside the bedroom yet.
I don’t blame her. If I weren’t carrying an engagement ring around in my luggage, I’d probably still be standing out there too. I head back outside to join her.
An hour later, we’re seated on the terrace overlooking the ocean, and although the restaurant is busy enough that conversation drifts between the tables in a dozen different languages, the sound of the waves rolling onto the beach below never disappears beneath it.
The waiter greets us before pouring our water. He hands us our the menus and disappears as quietly as he arrived.
Sarah glances over the cocktail list before closing it again.
“I think I’m going to get a pina colada.”
I fold my menu shut.
“I’ll have an Old Fashioned.”
The waiter returns a minute later, takes our drink order, and leaves us alone once more.
Sarah rests her forearms on the table before looking out toward the water, where the last of the sun hangs above the horizon, painting the Caribbean in streaks of gold that ripple with every passing wave.
“I still can’t believe we’re here.”
I look at her instead of the view.
“You deserve it.”
Her eyes soften.
“So do you.”
Our drinks arrive before either of us opens the menus again, and Sarah takes a sip before setting her glass back on the table.
“Good?”
She nods.
“Really good.”
By the time we’re ready to order, neither of us spends more than another minute looking at the menu.
“I’ll have the snapper,” Sarah says as she hands hers back to the waiter.
“The ribeye,” I add.
He nods once before disappearing toward the kitchen.
For a while, we don’t say much, and neither of us feels the need to.
The breeze moves easily through the open terrace, candlelight begins to replace the fading daylight, and somewhere farther down the beach, live music carries across the water without ever becoming loud enough to interrupt the quiet between us.
Sarah reaches across the table and slips her hand into mine.
“We needed this.”
I turn my hand over until our fingers are intertwined.
“Yeah.”
She traces her thumb across my knuckles while she watches the ocean again.
“I didn’t realize how tired I was until we got here.”
“You don’t have to think about anything for the next two weeks.”
Her eyes meet mine.
“I think that’s my favorite part.”
Dinner arrives a few minutes later, and the conversation drifts from one subject to another while we eat, never settling anywhere for very long because neither of us came here to solve problems or make plans.
We talk about spending tomorrow on the beach, about whether we’ll stay out late enough to watch the stars from the pool, and about nothing important at all, which somehow makes the evening feel exactly the way it should.
At one point, Sarah reaches across the table and steals a bite of my steak before I can say anything, and I simply slide the plate a little closer to the middle.
She looks up.
“You weren’t finished.”
“I know.”
She cuts another piece without another word.
By the time dessert is cleared away, the terrace has emptied enough that the ocean seems louder than the conversations around us, and neither of us makes any move to leave until the waiter returns with the check.
When we finally stand, Sarah slips her hand into mine, and we leave the restaurant at an unhurried pace, following the path back toward our villa while the waves break against the shore beside us and the lights scattered across the resort reflect softly off the water.
By the time we make it back to the villa, the only sound waiting for us is the ocean beyond the patio doors.
Sarah slips out of her sandals before wandering into the bedroom, and the second she reaches the bed, she lets herself fall backward onto the comforter with a satisfied sigh.
“Oh my God.”
I glance over as I set my watch on the nightstand.
“That comfortable?”
She nods, her eyes still on the ceiling.
“Mhm.”
After a moment, she turns her head toward me and pats the empty space beside her.
“Come here.”
I cross the room without another word.
The mattress shifts beneath my weight as I climb onto the bed, and before she has the chance to move, I slide an arm around her waist and draw her against me. She comes willingly, one hand settling against my chest as she looks up at me.
“You happy, Baby Girl?”
A smile finds her lips.
“So happy.”
I smile and kiss her, and she pulls me down with her until the rest of the world disappears beneath the feel of her body under mine and the sound of our breathing. Her hands move over my back as the kiss deepens, and when she tugs at my shirt, I help her pull it off before finding her mouth again.
Her dress rides up as she wraps a leg around me, and skin meets skin while we move together, our clothes disappearing one piece at a time. A few moments later, she rolls me onto my back before climbing on top of me, straddling my hips with a small smile as her hair falls around us.
She rocks against me until she finds her rhythm, and I settle my hands on her thighs, holding her there while moonlight and lamplight drift across the bed. Her head tilts back, her eyes half closed, and I don’t look away as the feeling builds between us until we both let go.
Afterward, she settles onto my chest, our breathing gradually returning to normal while we stay exactly where we are, wrapped around each other as the quiet of the night settles over the room.