From the direction of our bungalow, Steven appears. When our eyes meet, as always, I melt into a puddle for this man. I feel the air shift and my insides hum as if someone has plucked the invisible string that ties us to each other.
“You made it,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. His body heat surrounds me. I’m home.
Mike nods to us, jumping up from a squat and gesturing everyone closer. Victoria hovers at his elbow, looking serene.
“We’ve seen activity in this nest over the last few days and we think they’re ready to come out. This is a really special experience so let’s respect the turtles and let nature take its course. No lights, no loud noises, no touching. We have a red light if it gets too dark, but it’s best to let your eyes adjust naturally.”
My heart is racing in the best way. My blood rushes with endorphins, ready to run a mile, even though we’re all settling in to watch. I wish Mason and Juliette were here. How do I miss them more than my ex-boyfriend—the one I thought I’d marry?
Steven’s chest is firm and muscled against my back and I have a pretty good answer to my question.
We’re a silent group, staring at the patch of sand that bubbles and shifts. This stretch of beach is deserted with tangled mangroves on either side. As the sun disappears beneath the water, the temperature drops significantly, and our eyes adjust to the dark.
“They’re coming,” Mike whispers, his big grin reflecting starlight. Victoria snuggles into his side, watching the nest.
I hold my breath and we all seem to lean as one. A tiny, spider-like creature pops to the surface and my mouth drops open.Soon the area is flooded, dozens of tiny turtles are flapping their little fins as they climb over and under each other, fighting their way out of the ground.
It’s impossible to hold back all of our gasps and noises of appreciation. Some people have to step away. Each hatchling is smaller than my palm and I ache to scoop them up and admire them, but they flap confidently to the shore, ignoring us completely.
With a pang, I realize I’m jealous of a baby turtle, born with such a strong internal compass. They know exactly where they belong in the world, and they’re running toward it fearlessly.
“In 25 to 30 years, any female turtles who make it will come back to this beach to nest,” Steven murmurs. His lips against the shell of my ear make me shiver.
Why does it feel like a tiny piece of me, of us, would come back with them?
I learned at the sanctuary that the baby turtles are heading out into the open ocean, but scientists don’t really know where they go for the next decade of their lives. They call it “the lost years”. I feel like I’ve been living in my lost years since college.
I went to school because people expected it of me. I majored in Business because I was promised it would lead to a good career. I moved in with my long-term boyfriend because that’s what you’re supposed to do—but what would my life look like if I could start all over from scratch, without the expectations placed on a “promising” gifted child?
I turn in Steven’s arms and bury my face in his chest, head turned to watch the babies make their triumphant run toward the sea. Only 1 in 1000 would make it to adulthood. Life isprecious; it should be lived with your whole heart and not a second should be wasted.
I can’t change the past, but I can make better decisions going forward. I can choose to change. To listen to my heart instead of the voices of everyone else.
“Are you okay?” Steven asks, rocking on his feet and swaying our bodies gently.
“Can we go somewhere to talk?” I whisper.
We leave the group, walking hand in hand back down the quiet path to the bungalow.
“I’m leaving soon.” I focus on the way that the sand feels beneath my feet.
“I know.” His voice low, resigned.
“And then I’ll come back.”
“Sure.” He nods, but I can tell he still doesn’t believe me. I know he’s been hurt in the past, but I need him to listen. I stop, taking his face between my hands and look deep into his eyes.
“I will come back. My place is here now. Unless you don’t want me.”
His expression is pained as he pulls out of my grip. “Of course I want you. But how can you be sure that once you’re back in the States, you’ll feel the same? When you can drive everywhere in a comfortable car, and get anything you want delivered to your door in hours? Are you sure you won’t get a taste of cold aircon and Western plumbing and leave all this behind?”
My chest aches. He doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t realize how much I love him in such a short time. “Do you really think I’m that shallow?”
“It’s not shallow. It’s human nature. It’s comfortable. It’s your home. Your life. It’s all that you know. Once you get on that plane, this will all become a memory. A story you tell at parties. It won’t even be real.”
“Of course it will be real.”
He shakes his head. “You’re beautiful, and smart, and there’s a whole world waiting for you back in New York. All I have to offer you here are coconuts and damp, salty clothes.”
