He exhales, but when I glance over, I see both despair and relief.
A chime interrupts us—my phone alarm.
I set down my mug. I need to get ready.
“We need to meet the boys and my mom for breakfast so we have time to take them to see the blowhole, then lunch, and then we need to head over to the winery and start setting up—and I still haven’t been able to get a hold of the photographer to confirm.”
Beckett grabs my wrist and I don’t resist when he pulls me close.
“Thank you,” he says.
The deep, resonant blast of the ship’s horn cuts through the quiet of our kiss, vibrating up through the balcony floor and straight into my bones. Ensenada. The last stop. The wedding.
It’s the beginning of Luna and Noah's life together, but also the end of the cruise. I can’t help but wonder what it means for me and Beckett.
LA BUFADORA
ASHLEY
After a quick breakfast in the buffet, Beckett, the boys, and I head out for a short excursion, chosen weeks ago by the twins, to La Bufadora—the blowhole at the end of the bay in Ensenada.
The drive is bumpy and winding, and the boys take turns guessing how many times the geyser will “sneeze” while we’re there.
“Ten,” Max declares, nose pressed to the window.
“That’s a lot of‘gesundheits,’” Beckett murmurs to me, his hand brushing mine between us. His fingers linger, warm and easy, and I lean in slightly, smiling.
“Gesundheit,”Blakey echoes.
Max follows with his own.
“Gesundheit, gesundheit, gesundheit…” Between the two of them, they repeat it ten times, of course—one for every predicted sneeze.
Then Max swivels in his seat. “No, but seriously, Dad—did you know it’s called La Bufadora because that means ‘the snorter’ in Spanish?”
“Because it snorts water out,” Blakey adds, clearly pleased with himself. “Air and water get all trapped in the cave, and it has to get out, so it explodes up like—foooosh!”
“It’s a marine geyser,” Max continues seriously. “We watched a video. It’s one of the biggest blowholes in the world.”
“And it can spray up to sixty feet high,” Blakey says, puffing his chest out. “But only if the waves are really, really big.”
Beckett blinks at them, impressed. “Well, damn?—”
“Language,” I cut in automatically.
“Well, dang,” he corrects, shooting me a grin. “You guys did your homework.”
“Mom let us pick this ‘scursion, and then showed us a website about it,” Max says. “And we made a list of facts.”
“We also looked up sea lions,” Blakey says. “But mostly because Max wanted to know if they bite.”
“They do.” Max nods solemnly. “So don’t pet them.”
“Noted,” Beckett murmurs, clearly trying not to laugh.
I glance over, catching the quiet admiration in his expression as he watches the boys.
“They’re pretty great,” I say under my breath.
