“Oh I cancaptainall of those, but I want to enjoy the ride.” I shrugged. “Besides, the ferry will probably be smoother, and that’s what you need, right?”
It was obvious by the look on her face that I’d gotten her there. “Fair enough.” She glanced at the yacht I’d used to close a couple business deals. “You even drive that one?”
“I’m an incredible captain.”
“Your humility continues to inspire,” she deadpanned. “You’re like a walking TED Talk on self-esteem.”
“I’m considering writing a self-help book. ’How to Love Yourself Almost As Much As I Love Me.’”
The ferry came soon after and it skimmed across the water, cutting through the gentle waves. The wind whipped through Anica’s hair, sending strands flying around her face. She’d removed her sunglasses once we were on the water, and her eyes were bright despite her lingering hangover.
“Okay, I admit it,” she called over the engine noise. “This was a good idea.”
“I’m full of good ideas,” I replied. “Some involving boats, some involving blue drinks that you’ll probably never touch again. The quality varies, but the quantity is impressive.”
“Never,” she agreed with feeling. “If I so much as smell rum in the next decade, I might spontaneously combust. Or throw up. Or both simultaneously, which would be a sight to behold.”
The ride to the neighboring island took about thirty minutes, during which Anica gradually relaxed, trailing her fingers in the water and asking questions about the various sea birds and boats we passed. I pointed out a pod of dolphins in the distance, and her face lit up with delight.
“They’re showing off for you,” I told her as the dolphins leaped and played in our wake.
“For the boat,” she corrected.
“For you,” I insisted. “They recognize a kindred spirit when they see one. Intelligent, graceful, occasionally makes squeaking noises when excited.”
“I do not squeak!”
“You definitely squeaked when you saw the dolphins. It was adorable. Very high-pitched. Dolphin-approved. Like a tiny mouse discovering cheese for the first time.”
“I made a sound of appreciation. A mature, adult sound.”
“A squeak,” I corrected. “Like a dog toy being stepped on. Or a rusty door hinge, but cuter.”
She punched me in the shoulder.
The market was as vibrant and colorful as I’d promised, with stalls selling everything from fresh seafood to handwoven baskets to touristy trinkets. We wandered through the maze of vendors, Anica stopping occasionally to admire a piece of jewelry or artwork.
“No cell service,” she noted, glancing at her phone. “I feel naked without it.”
“The horror,” I gasped in mock sympathy. “How will you survive without checking your email every thirty seconds? What if someone has a wedding emergency? A bride might be choosing the wrong shade of ivory right now, and you wouldn’t even know it. The world could be ending in a catastrophic ivory crisis.”
“Very funny,” she said, tucking her phone away. “But you’re one to talk. Don’t billionaires have some rule about always being available to make more billions? I thought that was in the handbook they give you when you reach your third comma.”
“I left my copy at home. Along with my golden monocle and top hat made of hundred-dollar bills. Rookie mistake. Now how will I know the proper way to light cigars with flaming stock certificates?”
She laughed. “You’d look ridiculous in a top hat.”
“I look amazing in all headwear. It’s a curse, really. Hats see my face and just... elevate themselves. They sense greatness and rise to the occasion.”
“Your humility is showing again,” she said. A stall selling colorful scarves caught her attention. “These are beautiful.”
The elderly woman manning the stall beamed at her. “All hand-dyed, miss. No two alike.”
Anica ran her fingers over a scarf in shades of blue and green that reminded me of the ocean around my island. “It’s gorgeous,” she said.
“It would look beautiful on you,” the woman said. “Matches your eyes.”
Before Anica could respond, I’d already pulled out my wallet. “We’ll take it.” I handed over more than the asking price.
