“Kind of, but I’m going to tell you what it is. I’m recreating our honeymoon.”
I take the photo out of my purse and hand it to him. A local took the picture right after we arrived in Belize. We’re standing in front of a small garden cabana, covered by a thatched roof and surrounded by lush vegetation. We’re wearing matching linen shorts. I’m in a black tank, and he’s in a white button-down. We’re both smiling from ear to ear.
He takes the photo and laughs. “I didn’t know you had so many teeth.” He kisses me. “I can’t wait.” Then he lies back down on the blanket, and I join him, taking the obligatory selfie with us lying on the sand.
We stare at the sky, waiting for the sun to rise.
His eyes are restless.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“When are you going to show me the picture of the day I asked you to marry me?” he whispers.
He’s asked about that a few times. “Soon. That one’s very special. But it’s going to take more planning for me to tell it right.” I rest my head on his heart. “Come home to me, Nathan.”
He wraps his arms around me tightly as the first rays of the sun fill the sky.
CHAPTER 32
The Stranger
After sunrise, we don’t stay to watch low tide peel back and reveal the hundreds of dead jellyfish washed ashore—a daily occurrence now. I don’t have the stomach for it, and I don’t want to see what it does to Crystal. It’s too sad. I don’t want her to be sad anymore. Local volunteers will comb the sand, as they do each morning, with buckets and tongs, hauling away the dead creatures. An hour later, no one will ever know they were even there. Maverick Key’s beaches still look beautiful.
I carry Crystal home, and we collapse into bed. We plan to sleep for just a couple of hours, but we end up sleeping straight through the rest of the morning until the alarm shrills at noon. Crystal set it as a backup, and sure enough, we needed it.
Trying to stop it before it wakes her, I slam my arm towards the snooze button and accidentally knock the alarm off the nightstand. The repetitive, high-pitched beeps go on for several minutes as I fumble for it on the floor and finally find the right buttons to turn it off.
Sheepishly, I turn back to the bed. Crystal is looking at me and what I’m not wearing.
“Thirty minutes, sailor.”
She laughs when I run bare-assed to the shower, grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste on the way.
“I only need ten,” I shout. I can’t help smiling when I hear her laughter. Ireallywant her to join me, but there isn’t time. I brush my teeth and wash up as fast as I can.
When I get to the kitchen, I smell breakfast.
“I made you toast and eggs.”
My mouth waters at the sight of a steaming pile of fluffy scrambled eggs and buttered toast. How the hell did she cook this so fast?
“Tomorrow, I make you breakfast,” I say. I kiss her, then scarf everything down with a cup of coffee, already thinking ahead to our honeymoon. I can’t wait.
“Don’t forget your surprise tonight. It’ll be waiting for you when you get home.” She stands on her toes and kisses me goodbye.
Whatever happens today, I’m sure as hell coming home.
The sky is gray and somewhat cool for a December day in Maverick Key. I speed through the red lights, careful to keep my eye out for anything coming. I still have time for one more stop before the marina if I hurry.
I need to see them.
I know I should be at least a little nervous about today’s dive. Some healthy tension. But I’m not. I’m excited. The reason I’m confident today is that I know my limits. And I’ve already thought of all the things that could go wrong. I’m prepared for them. Whatever happens, I’ll put my family first, and I’m coming home tonight.
I turn onto the private side road that leads to my sister’s place. A narrow, quiet stretch of beach. The beachfront is small, but the property runs deep, unusual for the island. Scott and Mads have been talking about renovations so they can stay here as their family grows. Two more bedrooms and an office. Scott’s a good man, good enough to deserve my sister. I’m happy for them.
I park and start up the sandy path in the front yard. Outside by the fire pit, a huge man sits on one of the Adirondack chairs. He’s carving something with his pocketknife.
His hands still when he sees me, and he watches with narrowed eyes as I ease past him to the door. It takes him a moment before a flash of recognition crosses his face. This must be Ziddo, the bodyguard.
