Jay falls asleep four hours into the long drive, his head resting against the window. I don't mind at all. He was up half the night, too wired from the wedding to sleep. And then he was up again at dawn because old habits die hard.
He needs the rest. And besides, I don't want him to know where we're going yet. I've kept the honeymoon destination a secret from him.
I told him we'd be gone four days and to trust me completely. He did, because that's who Jay is now—someone who can trust without spiraling.
It took us a long time to get to this point in our lives.
But we made it.
The drive to Destin, Florida, is supposed to take about six hours. I glance at Jay when we cross the Florida state line, but he isn't awake to notice.
Jay finally stirs awake when we cross a long bridge going over a bay. "Where are we?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. "We're on a bridge."
"Almost there," I say, grinning at him.
He sits up straighter, looking out the window with growing interest. There's nothing remarkable to see now that we're off the bridge. Just a highway with businesses and restaurants. He looks at me questioningly, but I just smile mysteriously.
A few miles later, I turn off onto a smaller road. Jay watches the scenery change—condos and beach shops replacing the strip malls. Then I make one more turn, and suddenly the road dead-ends.
And there it is. Right in front of us.
The beach and the gorgeous Gulf of Mexico.
The beach stretches out wide in front of us with white sand so bright it's almost blinding in the sunlight. The water color shifts from brilliant turquoise to deep emerald to dark blue as it stretches toward the horizon. And overhead, seagulls are squawking, their calls mixing with the rhythmic sound of the waves.
This is Jay's safe place.
The one he described to me when we were kids—the beach he'd never been to but imagined anyway, the place he went in his mind when everything else was too much to bear.
White sand. Blue water. Blue sky. Seagulls.
I brought him here and made it real.
"Ivan." He's gripping the door handle so hard his knuckles are white. "How did you—where—"
"I've been planning this for months," I tell him. "I wanted to take you to your safe place for our honeymoon. To let you see that it's real. To let you stand in the sand and swim in the water. And know that you're finally safe with me."
He turns to look at me, and there are tears streaming down his face unchecked.
"I've never seen a beach," he whispers. "Ivan, I've never—I've never been to a beach. Not once in my entire life."
"I know." I reach over and take his hand. "Me either. That's why we're here. Four days, just us, nothing to do but swim and eat and fuck. No responsibilities. No work. Just us."
He's out of the truck before I can say anything else, walking toward the water like he's being pulled by something he can't resist. I watch him stop at the edge of the parking lot where the sand begins, looking down at it. He doesn't know what to do. Then he crouches and rolls up his pants to his calves, steps out of his shoes carefully, and takes his first step onto the beach.
"It's soft," he shouts at me. "Hurry! Come here! Ivan, the sand is so incredibly soft. And it's warm. It's exactly like I imagined. It's exactly—"
He can't finish. He just stands there, barefoot in the white sand, staring out at the endless water, crying openly.
I get out of the truck and go to him. I wrap my arms around him from behind, my chin on his shoulder, and we stand there together watching the waves roll in and break on the shore.
"Thank you," he whispers. "Thank you for bringing me here. It's perfect."
"Happy honeymoon," I say, and kiss the side of his neck.
We stay at the beach for a while, just taking it in, before I drive us to the condo. It's a small complex right on the water, nothing fancy—three stories, weathered by salt air and time, balconies overlooking the Gulf. The unit I rented is on the second floor. It's small—a living room that flows into a kitchen, a bedroom with a king-size bed, a bathroom with a shower that's seen better days. But the balcony opens right onto the beach, and when Jay steps outside and leans on the railing, the wind ruffling his dark hair, I know I made the right choice.
"This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen," he says. "The water is sparkling like diamonds. I can't believe I've never seen a beach before."
