Today was our last excursion day, and it was a very special excursion, because it also happened to be an excursionnight, spent at an exclusive resort composed of thatched villas, mountain-framed beaches, and small pools of shimmering cyan. As the busy day of zip-lining and touring historic Mazatlán came to a close, I retreated back to the villa I would share with Krysta, successfully tracked Bailey’s location to the resort bar and received a proof-of-life selfie, and then kicked off my shoes and walked down the villa’s shallow steps right onto the beach. The sand was soft under my feet as I made my way toward the moon-tinseled waves.
I could feel Krysta behind me, but she didn’t speak, didn’t try to stop me. Just bent down, rolled up her pant legs, and joined me in standing where the waves could kiss our ankles and lick up our calves.
“We’ll be home in two days,” I said, not sure why I was saying it. “It feels surreal. Like the whole week has been on fast-forward.”
“It reminds me of a wedding,” Krysta replied. “Months and months of planning, and somehow the event is over in the blink of an eye.”
“Have you ever had a wedding before?” I asked curiously, and she laughed.
“No, no. But I have clients who have.”
I looked out at the water, at the place where the dark waves and the dark sky became the same thing, differentiated only by the slices of reflected moonlight on the sea. “Have you ever wanted a wedding? To get married, I mean?”
I wasn’t sure why I said this either—if I wanted this to be the kind of conversation you had with a new friend or the kind of conversation you had with a new lover. I just knew that I wanted to know. I wanted a glimpse at all those cards she held so close to her chest.
She swished her feet in the water a moment before answering. “Yes, I’ve wanted it. I want it still. Maybe not the big magazine-worthy weddings my clients have, but the rest, the vows and the dancing. A tall cake with different flavors in every tier. A honeymoon in a place where they put rose petals on the bed.”
“So... you haven’t met the right person yet?” I asked, knowing I was being nosy now and not caring. I was too curious. Being hookup only for... oh, sixteen years now meant that I’d met plenty of queer people who didn’t find the idea of marriage appealing or remotely interesting. But it sounded like Krystadidwant that, and it made me wonder what had stood in the way. Family? Internalized shame? The narcissistic hellmouth that was dating in the greater LA area?
Krysta didn’t seem bothered by the cross-examination, but her voice was pensive when she answered. “You might have guessed this already, but being a bodyguard doesn’t leave a lot of room for romance. For the last five years, my job has been babysitting a brokenhearted pop star while he refused toleave Malibu. My time existed only in relation to his; and yes, I rotated with other security for days off and vacation leave, but it was too far apart and sporadic to make a real relationship feasible.”
“Is that why you didn’t take a different job when Isaac Kelly moved to Christmas Notch?” I asked. “Um, other than this one, of course.”
A sigh. “I used to be a stuntwoman, and every day used to be different. Used to be a challenge. I’d walk onto a set or to a location, and it would be something novel and thrilling, and then if I got bored, I could simply pick a different project next. I had freedom and variety and also time off when I wanted. So yes, partly it’s because I want time to date, but I also needed somethingnew, something that was tailored to me and what I like, and not tailored to what a grieving widower likes. Which is nothing, in case you were curious.”
She stepped back as a cool wave washed a little higher than the last one and threatened to get her pants wet. She added, a bit shyly, “I’m actually hoping to start a stunt-consultancy firm this year—all the things I loved about stunt work, but without the part where I personally fling myself out of trains and whatnot.”
“That sounds incredible,” I told her. “It’s so hot that you used to be a stuntwoman.”
I thought she liked that, because she ducked her head a little, like she wanted to hide a smile. “It would be a fresh start at least,” she said.
“I should say that I’m sorry I lured you away from that fresh start, but I’m not,” I told her, and I let all the husky reasons that I wasn’t sorry roughen the edges of my voice.
Krysta swept an interested gaze over me, her eyes finding my mouth as they so often did. “I’m not sorry either,” she murmured. “I’m glad your manager hunted me down.”
“Well, truthfully, I hunted down Winnie, who hunted down Kallum, who hunted down Isaac, who had your number on a Post-it and sent it in the literal mail to my manager without anything else in the envelope like a serial killer would. Andthenmy manager worked his magic.”
Krysta let out a laugh, as deep and velvet as the spaces between the stars. “Well, then.”
“But I am glad you said yes.”
She was still smiling, looking out at the ocean. Behind us was our villa, faintly lit by a handful of low orange lights, and behind that was a thick screen of trees. This villa was the most private of all the places on the resort, the most secluded, and I was glad, because it felt like we were in our own world tonight. Standing ankle-deep in our very own ocean.
“I wish I could say it was because your manager is just that good, but it’s more boring than that,” Krysta admitted. “I needed the money.”
I was a little surprised. I’d always been under the impression that Isaac Kelly paid very well for the privilege of hiding away in his sumptuous tomb-mansion, but maybe I’d been wrong.
Krysta seemed to know what I was thinking though, and shook her head. “Isaac paid me just fine. But circumstances changed after I quit, and this was exactly the job that could help.”
“I don’t want to pry... but I kind of do. Was it a bad poker bet? An illegitimate love child? A century-old house with good bones that you couldn’t walk away from?”
Another velvet laugh. “You’re close with the good bones. It’s my gran, actually. She’s not able to live by herself any longer, but I couldn’t bear to see her move in to a place less awesome than she is.”
“Your gran?” That was the sweetest, most adorable reason to go back to a job I’d ever heard. I gave Krysta heart-eyes as she continued.
“And then I found this place for her, and it’s got a pickleball court and a juice bar and dueling pianos every Friday night, and I just really want her to be living her best life. And my folks are gone, and I’m the only child of an only child, so it’s all down to me to make sure Gran’s golden years are the goldest.”
Ugh, my heart couldn’t handle it. And as long as Krysta consented to it, I would make sure that Krysta’s grandmother had everything she needed, because I wanted Gran to have dueling pianos too.
