Page 63 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
“I’m packing, actually. But I can call you once I’m on my way to the airport.”
“I’m not hopeful enough to think you’re coming home for a visit, so where are you headed this time? Back to London? Or New York?”
I grab a pair of black flip-flops and pack them into the zippered part of my suitcase. “No, actually. I’m heading away for a few days ... to the Maldives.”
When Hart called this week, saying that I’ve been working too hard and asking me to come away with him to the Maldives for a long weekend, where his family owns a home, I felt powerless to refuse him.Like a true hopeless romantic, I pictured us cuddled together on a sun-drenched stretch of beach. Far away from my smartphone and the stresses of running the foundation.
Mom makes a noise that can only be described as encouraging. “Oh là là. That sounds fancy. But it’s quite a flight.”
She’s right, but I’m actually looking forward to the long flight. I don’t get much downtime, and forced airplane mode, along with time to nap and read, sounds positively luxuriant right now.
“What’s in the Maldives?”
Might as well rip off the Band-Aid, Alessia.“Hart,” I admit sheepishly. I mentioned him only twice before to my parents—once after Napa and then again after the Hamptons, both times to their stark disapproval. Not that it surprised me. My parents’ reaction to his age was basically what I’d expected, which is why I’ve been quiet on his presence in my life.
“Oh.” She sounds surprised more than anything.
“Now’s not exactly the best time, with how busy I’ve been in Nairobi, but he convinced me that I’ve been working too hard and could use a few days of downtime,” I say, rambling. I tend to do that when I’m flustered.
“Well, I’m sure that’s true, but I’m honestly surprised to hear you’re still seeing him.”
The awkward silence that stretches between us lasts a moment too long.
I draw a breath to steady myself and release it slowly.
I place my toothbrush and toothpaste into my toiletry kit and carry it to the bed, where my suitcase is still open and spilling out onto the bed. I’m probably overpacking. It’s possible I’ll wear a bikini and little else ... a devilish image of a shirtless Hart splashing in the surf flashes through my brain.
My mother’s voice brings me back to the present. “Alessia, it’s your life and you know I don’t like meddling ...”
But . . .
“But honey, honestly. What are you doing?”
There it is. There’s the judgment I expected. It’s why I haven’t told my parents much about Hart. I haven’t wanted to hear their opinions. I bite the inside of my cheek. “I’m just having fun, Mom.”
She lets out a slow sigh. “Galivanting across the globe with some kid? It’s hard being a grown-up, but this is not the way to do it.”
Some kid?Ouch.I ignore the dig, the way you do when you’re trying to keep the peace and your sanity, but her words sting more than I care to admit.
Composing myself, I close my eyes. “Mom. I really can’t talk right now. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay,” she relents.
When I end the call and shove the phone into my bag, I know I won’t be calling her back today, because I can tell our conversation about Hart is far from over. And quite frankly, I don’t need another person in my life rooting against us. My own skepticism about our relationship is enough to keep my anxiety well fed for now, thank you very much.
It’s a long flight—nearly thirteen hours—but once I land and Hart meets me at baggage claim, all those hours suddenly seem worth it.
“Hi,” he says, smiling at me.
“Hi,” I return, feeling a little shy.
He looks gorgeous—suntanned and happy—wearing a white button-down shirt that’s open at the collar, with floral patterned swim trunks.
The Jeep is parked outside, and with the wind in my hair and Bob Marley singing on the radio, I lose myself in the perfection of this moment. From the driver’s seat, he reaches for my hand, then kisses the back of it once as he navigates down the winding road. We pass the water taxis and fishermen’s boats bobbing along and continue past thetourist spots and waterfront restaurants. The sand looks like sugar, and the water is impossibly turquoise blue.
As we drive, there are red streamers adorning the buildings that wave at us in the breeze. Red paper lanterns. Red flowers overflowing from pots. Everywhere I look, my favorite color.
“Wow. What’s all this?”
