I’m on my hands and knees grabbing the lanterns when I hear her voice.
A woman’s, cutting through the darkness with the kind of amused disdain that makes my stomach clench. “Look at that. Such a clumsy klutz.”
I freeze, clutching two paper lanterns to my chest like they’re evidence that needs suppressing.
My cheeks aredefinitelyred now.
I can feel the heat spreading down my neck.
Not that anyone can see my mortification in the dark. Except... I glance up and remember that stupidly gorgeous sky I was just admiring. All that moonlight and starlight and floating lanterns doing their picturesque thing behind me.
Which means I’m probably backlit. Silhouetted against all that celestial glory. Anyone looking from shore would see me perfectly outlined, frantically collecting lanterns like some kind of paper-obsessed raccoon.
Are there even raccoons in Eleuthera?
Doubt it.
A different voice chimes in. Male. Low and calm and... gentle maybe? “She’s just trying to find a good spot to launch her lantern.”
Something in his tone catches me. Not just the words, but the way he says them. There’s a familiarity to it that tugs at something in my memory, but I can’t place it.
A tall man steps partially into view. He’s mostly silhouette from where I’m crouched, backlit by the glow from the resort pavilion behind him. Broad shoulders. The outline of a woman still seated beside what I now realize is their private setup. Her silhouette hasn’t moved. Just watching me like I’m dinner theater.
Of course it’s a couple’s thing. Of course you just crashed their romantic moment.
Well la dee da.
“I didn’t see the table,” I stammer, standing awkwardly with their lanterns clutched against me. “I’m so sorry.”
My legal training kicks in. Acknowledge fault. Mitigate damages. Offer restitution.
I hurry to place the two lanterns back on their table, then scramble to collect the others scattered across the sand.
The woman makes a small sound of impatience. I pretend not to hear it.
When I’ve retrieved all their lanterns and returned them to the table, I turn to grab my own abandoned lantern and lighter. Except the man’s silhouette is already there, standing above it.
I stop short.
He crouches down without a word.
“Seriously?” the woman says from behind him. Her tone has an edge now. Not amused anymore.
He glances back at her briefly. “Give me a minute.”
Wait.
I know that voice...
He picks up my lighter and lantern. Stands. I watch as he shields the fuel cell with one hand, his body angled to block the wind.
The lighter sparks once.
The flame catches.
He holds the base steady with the kind of practiced ease that suggests this isn’t his first lantern rodeo.
The paper balloon begins to fill. I’m frozen in place, watching it expand. The flame inside grows brighter as the lantern strains against his hands, wanting to rise.
