I set the book down. It’s hard to read this knowing what came next.
We ate. It was delectable, every morsel the food of royalty. The champagne worked its magic and made the already perfect space sparkle with the glitter of contentment that can only occur when worry is fully abandoned.
We danced and laughed and watched the sun set on our last full day in paradise.
We shared the most delectable chocolate layer cake.
The bill came, and Beckett just signed the receipt. He didn’t have to hand over a credit card or put down cash or anything. He just handed the folio back to Fernando and thanked him for a lovely evening.
“Did you prepay?” I asked, confused.
“Nope,” he replied. “I charged it to my room.”
I was too tipsy to understand. “This place is owned by the Marriott? Well, kudos to them. This is way nicer than our spot.”
“No, silly. I got a room here.”
“You did?”
“A bungalow, actually.”
The weight of what he wasn’t saying sank in, but with my nerves satiated by food and champagne, all I could do was laugh. “Seriously?”
He held up a key. “We don’t have to use it, but yeah, seriously. That was the only way to get the table.”
“Wait. What?”
“It’s policy. The private dining is only available to people staying here in the villas. So I booked a room. I really wanted to give you a perfect meal.”
My face went stoic.
“I hope it’s okay.”
The thing was, it was so much more than okay. It was more than anything anyone I’d ever been with before had done for me, and I was stunned at the gesture. How he’d given it so freely—to me. I couldn’t find the words to say all that. Instead, I just said the words that appeared on my tongue.
“Take me there. I want to see it.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
Beckett smiled, laced my fingers in his own, and led me to the most striking little beach hut I’d ever laid eyes on. He unlocked the door and motioned for me to open it.
It was calledJoy.
“Appropriate,” I said, tugging on his shirt to pull him in close to me. I inhaled the air. It was a sweet-scented combination of coconut, aloe, cedar, and something else I couldn’t quite place. Some of it was Beckett, some of it was the room. “It smells so good in here,” I commented, placing my hands on his cheeks, drawing his lips down to mine for a kiss.
He stayed very still while my tongue grazed his bottom lip, tasting the remnants of champagne and chocolate from our dessert. “Incense,” he whispered.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mm hmm. Supposed to bring luck. It’s in that basket over there. Bread and sugar too,” he added.
“For what?” I wondered, puckering sweetly and planting a kiss on his closed lips.
“You’re supposed to burn all of it, apparently. I was told it brings love and prosperity onto the year.”
“Arubans and their traditions,” I grinned.
