Epilogue I
Marie
Ilooked up from where I was adjusting Honey's pink life vest with little white anchors on it, to find Wade holding up two adult-sized life vests with a questioning look.
"We're not wearing those," I declared, standing up and brushing sand off my knees. "We're island people. True island people don't need life vests in calm water."
"You made Honey wear one," Wade pointed out, gesturing to the dog who was already prancing toward the baby pink kayak.
"Honey has short legs and gets tired easily," I countered. "We don't. Also, she's the captain today. Captains get special treatment.”
Wade looked at the life vests, then at me, then at the perfectly calm water of the small beach I'd grown up coming to.
This was the same beach where I used to bring Honey as a puppy, where Papa had taught me to fish, where I'd spent hours exploring the mangroves that twisted out into the ocean like nature's own secret passageway.
Finally, he sighed and set the life vests down on the sand. “At least we’ll drown together.”
"We're not going to drown." I grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the kayak. "I've been doing this since I was eight years old. I used to give actual tours, remember? Before everything. I was the best tour guide on this part of the island."
"I believe it," Wade responded, his thumb stroking across my knuckles as we walked. "And I'm honored to finally get the full experience."
The morning sun was already warm on my shoulders, the sky that perfect shade of blue that only existed in the Caribbean. The water was so clear I could see small fish darting around our ankles, and the familiar scent of salt and sunscreen filled the air.
The beach was a crescent, one of those hidden gems tourists never found. Just us, the sound of gentle waves, and Honey's excited barking.
Wade had asked me yesterday what I wanted to do today, his hands playing with my curls while we lay in bed. I'd said I wanted to take him kayaking through the mangroves, show him the parts of the island tourists never saw. To take him to the places that had meant everything to me growing up.
Now he stood beside the kayak, looking both amused and slightly uncertain—which was hilarious considering this was a billionaire who ran his own empire.
"Okay.” I planted my hands on my hips in my best professional tour guide stance. "Welcome to Marie's Exclusive Kayak Tours. I'll be your guide today, and that's Captain Honey at the front."
I gestured dramatically to where Honey had already positioned herself in her secured spot at the bow, sitting perfectly upright. "Now, as the extremely wealthy tourist who booked this very expensive private tour, do you have any questions before we depart?"
Wade's lips twitched with barely contained amusement. "How expensive are we talking?"
"Priceless," I answered seriously. "Cannot be bought with money alone. Payment requires love, devotion, and you have to eat the extra-spicy jerk chicken with me tonight."
"Marie." Wade looked genuinely pained. "That thing is weaponized. It’s not food, it’s a chemical burn."
"It's flavor!" I protested, crossing my arms. "Just because your palette is delicate doesn't mean—"
"Delicate? Darling, I watched paint peel off the wall last time you requested that stuff."
"It clears the sinuses!" I insisted, trying not to giggle at his horrified expression. "You know what, we're getting off topic." I pointed to the back seat of the kayak. "Get in, tourist. We're burning daylight, and Captain Honey is getting impatient."
As if on cue, Honey barked once, sharp and excited.
Wade laughed and moved to climb into the kayak. I held it steady as he settled into the back seat, his long legs folding into the limited space.
"Here.” I handed him the paddle before settling myself into the front seat. "You can start us off. Show me what you've got."
He took it, adjusting his grip, and pushed off from the shore. We glided smoothly into the water, and he began paddling with long, careful strokes.
I bit my lip, watching his technique for about thirty seconds before I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Okay, so," I started, trying not to laugh. "That's... that's a choice you're making with the paddle."
"What's wrong with it?" Wade asked, still paddling his slow, methodical strokes.
"Nothing's wrong exactly," I answered diplomatically. "It's kind of like a turtle. A very careful, very slow turtle who's not in any hurry to get anywhere."
Behind me, I could hear the smile in his voice. "Are you calling me old again, Marie?”
"I'm your tour guide," I said innocently. "It's my job to provide helpful feedback, and my feedback is that you paddle like an elderly sea turtle."
He chuckled, but kept going, and I let him navigate us toward the mangrove entrance for another minute before I twisted around and held out my hand.
"Okay, that's enough of that. Hand it over before we end up in the mangroves.”
“I’m doing quite well,” he pointed out, but he was already passing me the paddle.
I took it and picked up the pace, my body falling into the familiar rhythm I'd learned years ago. "You're relieved of paddling duty. Just sit back, enjoy the scenery, and try not to fall out."
"You're very bossy when you're in tour guide mode," Wade observed.
"You love it."
"I really do," he said softly, and his hand came to rest on my lower back, just a light touch, his palm warm through my thin swim cover-up. "You're beautiful like this, you know. In your element."
Heat crept up my cheeks, but I kept paddling, steering us into the narrow channel between the mangroves. "Wait until you see where we're going. Then you can compliment me."
The mangroves rose up on either side of us as we entered the channel, their roots twisting to create intricate patterns in the shallow water. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of leaves overhead, dappling everything in shifting patterns of green-gold light.
It was cooler here, shaded, and the water turned from crystal blue to a deeper emerald.
"Wow.”
“It’s a paradise,” I agreed.
I paddled us deeper in, navigating around roots. “I used to come here all the time growing up. Papa would fish while I'd explore for hours. I never did any tours here, though. It’s a local space.”
His hand moved from my lower back to my hip, a gentle, grounding touch. "I bet you were the best guide on the island."
"I was," I was sure of it. "I knew the channels, tide patterns, where all the good snorkeling spots were. I could tell you which days the dolphins came through and where the sea turtles nested."
I steered us around a bend, and a small green heron took flight from a root, wings flashing. "I loved sharing this island with people who'd never seen anything like it."
"You can do it again," Wade offered with certainty. "When you're ready and if you want to."
Something warm bloomed at how easily he said it. Not if I'd be ready, but when. Like he never doubted I'd get there.
"Maybe," I replied softly. "For now, I'm happy giving private tours to wealthy tourists who paddle like turtles."
He laughed and squeezed my hip. "Speaking of which, is that really my biggest concern right now? My turtle-like paddling technique?"
"Oh no.” I shifted into my professional tour guide voice. "There are much bigger concerns. For instance, the sharks."
"Sharks," Wade repeated, clearly humoring me.
"Absolutely. Bull sharks, mainly. They come into the mangroves to hunt." I kept my tone completely serious. "They're attracted to splashing and, this is the important part, slow, turtle-like movements in the water."
"You're making that up."
"Am I?" I glanced back at him, eyes wide and innocent. "Are you willing to bet your life on that? Because if you fell in right now, with your turtle energy, I'd give you about thirty seconds before something took an interest."
"Thirty whole seconds?" His hand trailed up my spine, making me shiver. "You have so much faith in me."
"I'm being generous because I like you.” I tried to focus on paddling and not on the way his touch was making my skin tingle. "Anyone else I'd give twenty seconds, tops."
Honey chose that moment to bark at something in the water, probably a fish, and I laughed. "See? Even Captain Honey is concerned about your survival skills."
"I'm touched by your concern," Wade said dryly. "Both of you."
We glided through the mangroves in comfortable quiet for a few minutes, just the sound of water lapping against the kayak and the occasional bird call from somewhere in the dense foliage.
Wade's hand stayed on my back, sometimes stroking, sometimes just resting there, a constant warm presence that made me feel present and cherished.
I'd forgotten how much I loved being on the water, navigating through places I knew by heart, and sharing it with someone who actually appreciated it.
"Now, if you look to your right," I explained in my best professional voice, "you'll see the rare and extremely valuable... tree root."
Wade made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh.
"And to your left," I continued, gesturing with the paddle, "another tree root. Fascinating specimen. Very rooty, and definitely worth the priceless tour fee."
His hand moved to my shoulder, squeezing gently. I could feel him shaking with silent laughter behind me.
"But the real treasure," I went on, completely deadpan, "is learning that you have approximately thirty seconds to live if you encounter a shark due to your unfortunate turtle-like swimming style. Can't put a price on that kind of life-saving information."
"You're terrible at this," Wade laughed, his voice full of affection.
"Excuse you, I'm an excellent guide," I protested. "I'm providing valuable safety information and pointing out relevant flora. That's literally the job description."
"The flora being 'tree roots'?"
"I don't see you contributing any better information.”