Next Day
Morning arrives with brilliant sunshine and the scent of coffee. I've slept later than usual, the emotional weight of last night's conversation leaving me more exhausted than I realized. After a quick shower, I dress in a simple sundress and head to the terrace, where I find Michael already awake, reading something on a tablet.
"Morning," I say, helping myself to coffee. "Please tell me that's not work email."
He looks up with a smile. "Good morning. And no, it's not work. I'm researching snorkeling spots for today. There's supposed to be a cove on the north side of the island that has sea turtles."
"Sea turtles?" I can't hide my excitement. "I'd love to see more of those."
"I thought you might." He sets down the tablet. "How did you sleep?"
"Well," I lie, not about to admit I spent half the night thinking about him. "You?"
"Better than I have in years," he says, and I wonder if he's being honest or just polite. "Island air, I guess."
"Or doctor-mandated relaxation," I suggest, taking a seat across from him. "Your body probably went into shock from the lack of stress."
He laughs. "Probably. Though I should check in with David today. He sounded pretty rough last night."
"Of course," I say. "Family comes first."
"Thank you for being so understanding about that call. Most people would have been annoyed at the interruption."
"I'm not most people," I remind him.
"No," he agrees softly. "You're definitely not."
The chef appears with breakfast, tropical fruit, fresh pastries, some kind of egg dish with local vegetables, and the tension breaks.
"So, sea turtles today?" I ask, helping myself to pineapple and mango.
"If you're interested," Michael says. "The villa can arrange for a boat to take us to the cove. It's apparently quite secluded. Not accessible by road."
"Sounds perfect," I say, trying not to think about being alone with Michael on a secluded beach.
After breakfast, I change into my swimsuit and meet Michael at the villa's private dock, where a small motorboat waits. The captain is a friendly local man who points out landmarks as we make our way along the coast, explaining the island's history and natural features.
The ride takes about thirty minutes, the boat skimming over crystal-clear water that shifts from turquoise to deep blue and back again. Michael sits beside me, occasionally pointing out interesting sights—a seabird diving for fish, a particularly beautiful stretch of coastline, an impressive yacht anchored in a distant bay.
"That's new money," he says of the yacht, with the faintest hint of disdain. "Too flashy."
I laugh. "As opposed to old money like yours?"
He looks slightly embarrassed. "I didn't mean it that way. And technically, I'm new money too. First generation."
"But with old money taste?" I tease.
"I prefer to think of it as understated elegance," he says with mock haughtiness.
"Says the man who lives in a Manhattan penthouse."
"A very tastefully appointed penthouse," he corrects, eyes twinkling. "No gold toilets, I promise."
This playful, teasing Michael is yet another side I rarely see at the office. I store away this moment, adding it to my growing collection of "real Michael" memories.
The cove, when we reach it, is even more beautiful than promised. A crescent of white sand bordered by volcanic rocks and lush vegetation, completely isolated from the rest of the island. The water is so clear that I can see fish swimming from the boat.
"It's breathtaking," I say as our captain skillfully brings the boat close to shore.
