Page 21 of How to Say I Do
“Did you have a good time?”
“Thebesttime,” Noël gushed. “This is better than I ever imagined.” He twisted to me, joy stretching out his cheeks. “What about you?”
“Definitely one of my top ten days.”
There was, of course, a chilled bottle of champagne waiting for us in the cigarette boat. There seemed to be a rule that honeymooners were to be soaked in champagne, and I was happy to float along with that. The captain popped the cork and poured us each a glass.
The sun, the heat, the gentle bobbing of the boat, and the sweet champagne bubbles seemed to envelop Noël. Soon enough, his eyes drooped closed, and I pulled him closer to me and cradled him against my chest.
We were heading west for the crossing back, and the sun was melting from the sky, spilling periwinkle and peach light over the sea. Waves glittered. Spray tickled my face. Noël murmured and shifted closer. I brushed my lips over his salt-coated blond strands.
Feet over my head. My dreams were soaring for the moon. Anything could happen here. I could fall in love. Maybe I already had.
The ride back took an hour, and Noël slept for most of it. He didn’t wake until the captain downshifted the motor and we slow-rolled into the marina, drifting toward the dock.
Noël blinked dazedly back to reality. He looked from the boat to the sea and then to me. “We’re back?”
“We’re back.” I still had my arm around him. He hadn’t pulled away. My heart was a drum, and if I’d been a cartoon, you’d see it beating out of my chest.
Noël stretched, finally opening up inches between us. I shifted to give him room, but he sank back into my side with a sigh. “Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?”
I couldn’t have stopped my smile with a sledgehammer. Theentireride back, I’d been trying to figure out how to ask him to dinner. I didn’t want this day to ever end. I was greedy for more time. My problems the last hour had felt immense. How did I ask him to stay with me, to not leave, to spend the rest of today, this evening, tonight, and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow at my side?
Then he’d gone and assumed that we’d be sticking together. He hadn’t even asked.Yes, Idowant to have dinner with you, Noël. Yes, Idowant to stay with you.
“There’s a restaurant up at the main resort,” I said. “Traditional Mexican. How does that sound?”
It was one of the fancier dining options, a few steps up from the sandals-and-tank-tops attire of El Amanecer. I wanted to treat him, at least as much as I could at an all-inclusive resort. I wanted to give him a night as special as he was, and pull out his chair and pour him a glass of wine. We’d shared sun-warmed joy and salt-sprayed days, and now I wanted to have the candlelit dinner and the lazy moonlit night. In fact, I wanted everything. I wanted his sharp edges and the teased-out laughs. I wanted to watch his eyes glitter, then turn mischievous or soft or startled, doe-eyed or wondrous or uncertain. He was like a top that spun and spun, and I was dizzy with him.
“Sure.”
He took my hand when I held it out under the guise of helping him to the dock. Too soon, I had to let go. My world for an infinite staircase that I could help him down from. “I’ll call for reservations. When do you want to meet?”
“Seven-thirty?”
“Perfect.”
Our hands had parted, but we hadn’t stepped away. I could see each and every distinct hue inside the tropical-blue of his irises. “I’ll meet you there.”
He winked. “It’s a date.”
I met Noël outside the restaurant in the same outfit I planned to wear for Liam and Savannah’s wedding—nicer khaki slacks and a silk tropical-print short-sleeve dress shirt. I’d ordered it from Tommy Bahama after a week of struggling with Savannah’s instructions.Casual, but not too casual. Beachy wedding wear. No shorts, but you will be barefoot.
All I had at home were Wranglers and t-shirts and plaid button-downs. Here, other than this, I had board shorts and tank tops. Sorry, Savannah. Noël was getting my finest, too.
On the walk over, I’d plucked a golden plumeria from a hedge bursting with blooms. It was lit up as bright as a Texas rose, the color of a sunrise.
Noël arrived fashionably late. Through the lobby window, I watched him stroll up the walkway in breezy linen pants and a cream-orange shirt that did dangerous things for his emerging tan and his sun-kissed blond hair. He looked like he was gliding out of a magazine, fresh from a photo shoot of the ten most attractive men on the planet. I caught a dozen pairs of eyes, women and men, snap to Noël.
Noël was a startlingly beautiful man, built of acute angles and sweeping bone structure. He could stop traffic even when he was disconsolate. Hell, he’d commanded that airport bar’s attention and he’d been three sheetsbeyondthe wind. Sober, he made the most mundane happenings seem gorgeous by design. Sipping coffee wasn’t supposed to be artful, but with him?
Lord, the way he moved. The way he held himself. The angle of his jaw and the uplift of his chin. The way he pushed his aviators on top of his head as he came through the doors, and how a lazy lock of hair spilled down his forehead.
I felt like I’d dressed myself head to toe in Walmart couture. He wasn’t wearing anything that wasn’t on sale in the window of the gift shop, but it was the way he wore the resort-branded pants and that breezy button-down.
His eyes were guarded as he searched the lobby, his expression impassive, almost dismissive of the world in front of him—
Until he saw me, and he seemed to spark from the inside out. He looked me right in the eyes and smiled, like that smile was crafted just for me and hand-delivered into my heart.
