Her breath steadied, her body soft against me. I stared at the ceiling, one arm heavy across her waist, and let it hit me plain—this was it. No island, no empire, no dollar amount could top this.
Paradise wasn’t something I had to buy or build; it was something I had to find. It was already in my bed, sleeping on my chest.
The island heat hit us the second we stepped off the jet, thick and heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It wrapped around us like a warm embrace, carrying the scent of salt air and something. Coco’s hand slipped into mine, and I let myself enjoy that simple connection.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, her eyes wide as she took in the crystal-clear water stretching endlessly in front of us. “Lesley, this is beautiful.”
Cameras flashed here and there—tourists, airport staff, people with nothing better to do—but to me, it was just us. Just her squeeze of excitement, her genuine smile. My job for the weekend was to ensure it never left.
The ride to the villa was short, our driver navigating winding roads lined with palm trees and glimpses of pristine beaches. Coco pressed her face to the window, pointing out everything from the colorful houses to the boats bobbing in the harbor.
“You act like you ain’t never seen water before,” I teased, but I loved seeing her like this. Unguarded. Happy.
“Not water like this,” she said, turning to me with sparkling eyes. “This looks like something from a postcard.”
The villa was everything I’d promised her and more. White stone walls gleamed in the afternoon sun, floor-to-ceiling glass doors opened onto a terrace that looked straight out onto turquoise water so clear you could see the bottom. A private infinity pool seemed to spill right into the ocean beyond, and palm trees swayed gently in the breeze.
“Lesley,” Coco whispered, stepping out of the car and turning in a slow circle. “This is...”
“Home for the week,” I finished, pulling our bags from the trunk. The staff had already taken the heavier luggage inside.
Pops and Karyn were staying in the villa next door—close enough for family time, far enough for privacy. From where we stood on our terrace, the world had narrowed down to just the two of us.
Coco walked to the edge of the pool, her cream linen dress floating around her legs as she kicked off her sandals and dipped her toes in the water. The late afternoon sun caught her profile, and I had to stop and watch her for a moment. This was what peace looked like on her face. This was what I wanted to give her every day for the rest of our lives.
“The water’s perfect,” she called over her shoulder. “Come feel this.”
I set down the bags and joined her, rolling up my pants to step into the shallow end. The water was warm. I could see tiny fish darting around our feet through the clear surface.
“You did good, husband,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“We ain’t even been here an hour yet,” I laughed, but I pulled her closer anyway.
“I can already tell. I feel different here. I can actually breathe.” She leaned back to look at me. “Thank you for bringing me somewhere this beautiful.”
Before I could respond, she was kissing me, soft and sweet. Moaning promises in my mouth, I intended to make her keep. When we broke apart, she rested her forehead against mine.
“So what’s the plan, Mr. Grimson? How are we spending our first day in paradise?”
I looked out at the endless blue water, then back at the woman in my arms, and made a decision that had nothing to do with business or obligations or anything except the two of us.
“However you want, Mrs. Grimson. This week is all about you.”
Her smile was radiant, and for the first time in months, I felt the weight on my shoulders start to lift. Whatever else this trip would bring, right now it was just us, the sun, and all the time in the world.
The second morning in Turks and Caicos was easy in a way I wasn’t used to. No calls buzzing my phone, no knocks at the door, no problems that needed me right then. Just the ocean stretching vast and endless, waves breaking against white sand.
Coco was already outside when I woke up, dress catching the breeze, bare feet buried in the sand. She had her hands on her hips, looking out at the horizon like she was planning a whole event on it. That was her, always noticing the details, already sketching beauty in her head.
“You look like you about to host somebody’s bougie ass wedding out here,” I called, stepping off the patio.
She turned, laughing, eyes squinting in the sun. “Don’t tempt me. All I need is a few string lights, some champagne flutes, and this ocean? Done.”
“You trying to outdo me on my own trip?”
“Not trying,” she teased, brushing past me, “just succeeding.”
The day unfolded like a dream. Coco stretched out on a lounge chair with her wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, book in hand, occasionally glancing up to watch me swim laps in the infinity pool. The sun caught the gold in her skin, and every time she turned a page, I found myself losing count of my strokes.
