“Shh. Here she comes. But yes! Yes to everything. She’s going to be so excited.”
Just like that, it was done.
Harmony returned from the bathroom with a gleam in her eye. “Do we have anything planned tonight?” she asked.
“I do,” her mother said. “There’s aHouse Huntersmarathon on that has my name on it,” she announced with a wink.
“Well, as much as I’d love to stay inside and do that”—Harmony laughed and shifted her attention to me—“would you be up for a little adventure?”
“Me?” I asked, looking around as if she might have been talking to someone else.
“Yeah, you.”
“Sure,” I replied. “I love a good adventure.”
“Okay. I need you to wear your nicest outfit and meet me in the lobby after dinner.” I must have twisted my face up in confusion because then she said, “Trust me. It’s going to be fun.”
As requested, I changed into the one pair of dress pants I’d brought and a collared, button-down shirt. I didn’t have a tie, but my shoes complemented the outfit and I felt presentable. I had no idea what she had in mind, but it didn’t matter. I would have followed her anywhere.
She came out of the elevator in a cocktail dress, far fancierthan anything I’d seen her in to date. It was short, black, and tight in all the places I’d imagine the designer intended, leaving little to the imagination. Her high-heeled strappy black shoes gave her three inches of extra height; I had to make a conscious effort not to ogle her. It wasnotyour typical tropical island evening wear, although Harmony could light up the room wearing sweatpants, in my opinion.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked her, following a kiss.
“Just be cool. Act natural.”
“Are we off to rob a bank? What kind of criminal activity is this?” I laughed.
“You ever crash a wedding?” she asked, doe-eyed.
“Shut up. Seriously?”
“Not into it?” She frowned. “I thought it would be fun.”
“Oh, I’m into it. But don’t we need a story?”
“Nope. Just act like you belong,” she assured me.
We boarded the boat with a handful of guests, also dressed to the nines. They were chatting among themselves; one of the women appeared concerned about the time, as it was just after 6:00 p.m.
“These things always run late,” her date said.
Berto was the boat’s driver, and he eyeballed Harmony as if he recognized her but said nothing. Just smiled to himself as she said, “Buenas noches, Berto.” Her attempt to communicate with him made me like her even more, if that was possible.
Harmony and I, having taken many of these rides already all week long, positioned ourselves under the front of the water taxi. I don’t know if you’d call it the “hull” exactly, but it was a bench seat around the perimeter of the front of theboat, completely covered by the boat itself. It was the only place you could sit without getting wet from the sea spray. I wanted to protect Harmony’s outfit lest she show up at a wedding she wasn’t invited to looking like a drowned rat.
Once we docked, we sat in the very back on the groom’s side, trying to blend in as much as possible. Nobody spoke to us on account of our arrival so close to the ceremony start time, other than a polite head nod acknowledgment from the party sitting next to us. The nuptials were quite lovely. The bride, Rachel, was escorted by her eldest brother down the aisle to wed Preston, a day trader with a penchant for fine whiskey, according to his friend Garrett, who officiated the wedding.
The sun set in the background as they tied the knot, which was good in that the increased darkness of night would make Harmony and me less likely to get caught in the ruse of wedding crashing. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure why we were doing this, other than maybe to see what a wedding on the island might be like.
Turns out, that wasn’t our reason for being there at all.
Once the ceremony ended, Rachel, Preston, and the bridal party all went off to take photographs on the beach before the last bits of sunset vanished, leaving the guests to a robust cocktail hour just steps away from the ceremony location. The beach was gorgeous, awash in tiny gold lights that sparkled like lightning bugs. I could see the appeal of maybe one day getting married here.
“Come with me,” Harmony whispered.
“Where are we going?”
“Bathroom,” she said, and we walked rather nonchalantlytoward the bathrooms, which were situated next to the bar at Papagayo’s. “Now, just listen to me,” she instructed. “Go in there, feel free to use the bathroom if you need to, and then wait a few minutes. You see that roped-off area over there?” She jutted her chin toward a small planked walkway.
