Page 172 of Ewan

“Are we having dinner? What exactly are we doing?”

“Pack something cute. Festive,” he says. “And make sure they’re summer clothes.”

My eyebrows move up into a questioning look.

“Where are you taking me?”

“We’re spending Christmas in Florida,” he says, and my jaw drops to his delight.

SCARLETT

I only traveledto Florida twice.

The first time, my mother took me to the theme parks. I was eight.

The second time, I spent a week in Miami with a couple of friends after college graduation, and we thought that maybewe’d get married to some rich guy who smoked cigars and drove a collectible pink car from the fifties.

Silly girls we were.

So when he said we’d go to Florida, my heart skipped a few beats and danced rumba in my chest.

I packed light because he said so, and I thought we wouldn’t be spending much time over there.

Even so, I put in a couple of summer dresses, shorts, sweaters, pencil pants, flats, flip-flops, and a jacket.

It could get cold in the evening––I had thought–– although I had no idea what kind of accommodations we would have.

We flew a charter plane down here, and arrived at Sarasota Bradenton International airport an hour ago, where we hoped into a rented car.

We’re like two newlyweds, or two happily married people, doing all the things people on vacation do.

We stop at the gas station, buy soda, candy, and chips, and generally speaking, feel free that we escaped the oppressive winter.

The weather is balmy, perfect for this time of year. Not too hot and not too cold, and the smell of the ocean tickles my nostrils.

The breeze is what I like the most. It’s like an old friend wrapping their arms around you.

It’s hard to believe that just a few hours ago, I got schooled by Mrs. Eisenhower and pondered her words with perhaps too much seriousness. And even thought that Ewan and I were on the wrong path.

Briefly, I was anguished by the idea that he might never show up at my door again. That we were just a fling, and that was that.

And look at us now.

The night breeze messes with his hair. A smile tugs at his lips when he feels my stare on him.

“How do you like it?” he asks, glancing at me.

I must look like someone who’s never been on vacation.

“I have no words to express how much I love it,” I say sincerely before moving my eyes to the manicured lawns outside.

Soon, we roll onto a bridge, and before long, the smell of the ocean becomes more pronounced.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

We had an agreement not to discuss our destination.

He wanted it to be a surprise, and now I see why.

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