How to Honeymoon Alone

I glance at my phone. Only five minutes late.

The green sundress I’m wearing has a deep sweetheart neckline that might say I’m going on a date, but it’s also casual enough for a friendly dinner with a fellow tourist.

Not that I know what I’m hoping for between those two options. But at least my dress can navigate them both for me.

Phillip is the one who suggested dinner after golf. He’d said it casually. We both have to eat, don’t we?

There was undeniable logic to those words.

I get in the elevator, heading down to the hotel lobby. The middle-aged couple already inside smiles at me in unison. “Good evening,” the woman says to me. She’s wearing a red top with a rhinestone collar.

I nod back. “Good evening.”

Her smile turns conspiratorial. “This is just the most beautiful resort, isn’t it?”

“Truly the best. It’s stunning here,” I say.

The man puts a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’re on our second honeymoon,” he says. Their accent sounds midwestern, but it’s hard to place for sure.

His wife nods, her eyes sparkling. “Renewed our vows just last week.”

God, they’re everywhere.

But I just smile at them. “Congratulations!”

I can’t blame any of the honeymooners anymore, really. This is one of the best resorts to travel to after tying the knot. Hadn’t that been what I’d wanted to do myself?Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Phillip is already at the restaurant when I arrive, leaning against one of the columns that frame the entrance. He still hasn’t shaved, and the five o’clock shadow darkens his already-tanned face. But he’s changed into a button-down linen shirt. Sadly, it gives me no clue as to the date or the non-dateness of our dinner because, as typical, it’s either that or a polo with him. Is the man allergic to non-collared shirts?

The kiss from last night is still unacknowledged. It’s hovered in the air around us all day, a memory unspoken.

“Hey,” Phillip says. His eyes dip down in a sweep of my dress, and my skin flushes under his gaze. “Let’s grab a seat.”

A server shows us to our table, lets us order drinks, and then we’re quiet as we read our separate menus. The table is close to the ocean, next to the waves breaking against the boardwalk, just like our first dinner.

My heart is beating fast. He’s not a stranger now, not like he’d been in this very restaurant on that first night.

“I’m having fish tonight,” he says. The drinks have arrived, standing between us like sentinels. “Just letting you know.”

I meet his amused gaze over the edge of my menu. “I kinda berated you for getting the steak when we met, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” he says, but it sounds like he’s enjoying the memory. “You did.”

“I’m so easygoing.”

“You know, that’s the first adjective I’d use to describe you.”

“Hmm. And what’s the second?”

He drums his fingers against the table for a long couple of beats. “Curious.”

I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. “That wasn’t your immediate choice, though.”

His eyes meet mine. “No,” he admits. “It wasn’t.”

“What’s the real answer?”

“I don’t think I’m going to tell you that.”

“Keeping secrets, Meyer? From your new wife?”

He chuckles. “Only ones she’s not ready to hear, yeah.”

Something flips over in my stomach. Like a school of fish being hunted by a shark. “I can handle a full class of unruly five-year-olds,” I say. “Think I can’t handle this?”

He reaches for his glass of wine. “Oh, I think you can. I’m just not ready to play that card, yet.”

“Play that card?” I ask. Something’s tightening in my chest. Anticipation. Expectation. “You’re not the only one with aces up your sleeve.”

I don’t even know what we’re talking about. And still, I do, and my body certainly does. My heart is beating fast again.

His eyes briefly drop to my dress. It’s a quick glance, there and gone again. “Oh, you definitely have some, too,” he says.

“Flustered, Mr. Meyer?”

“Frustrated, Ms. Richards?”

“Never.”

“Not even after three whole months,” he says.

My mouth opens. Closes again. But then, I just go for it. “I have an excellent vibrator.”

Phillip’s expression goes blank, without a hint of emotion on it. “Ah,” he says.

And then, nothing else.

“Did I blow your mind?”

“Yes,” he says. “Give me a moment.”

I’m my vacation self, and she says things like this to men she’s just become friends with. She orders a fancy drink from the menu without agonizing over the price. She might even kiss this handsome stranger one more time.

He raises an eyebrow. “At least a vibrator is guaranteed to last longer than five minutes.”

“Yes,” I say as heat consumes my cheeks. I had admitted to that little tidbit about my sex life with Caleb. “If I’ve charged the batteries.”

“Mmm. Hate it when they run out halfway through,” he says, focusing on his sleeves. He’s rolling them up his forearms with methodical precision.