Page 18 of How to Honeymoon Alone

“We’ve stopped away from the other tourist boats,” Jamie says, “but there should still be plenty of turtles here. Green turtles, mostly, but we might see a hawksbill if we’re lucky. I’ll join you guys in the water with some food for them.”

“No leatherbacks?” I ask.

He smiles in surprise. “They’re rare here on the west coast, so probably not, no. You know which species we have?”

“I read up beforehand,” I say. “Isn’t it also the hatching season right now?”

“Sure is,” he says. “So make sure you look twice before lying down on the beaches. Nests are clearly marked and currently protected by volunteers. Ready to get in the water?”

I make my way to the platform at the back of the catamaran. Turquoise water laps softly at the edge of the platform, and beneath the surface, I see only the sandy bottom—far, far down. It looks gorgeous.

A feel a shiver of fear at the sight of so much deep water, surrounding us in every direction. But it’s clear, and it’ll be warm, and I let myself linger in a frisson of anticipation. Adventure. That’s what I’m on.

An adventure.

Phillip comes to stand beside me on the diving platform. He’s been quiet since we came on board, but now he speaks up, his voice dry and teasing. “You were a teacher’s pet in school, weren’t you?”

I look sideways at him. “You’d rather answer emails than enjoy the expensive catamaran cruise you’ve paid for?”

“Answering emails is my way of enjoying the cruise,” he says, deadly serious. But then he breaks and a half smile curves his lips. “I’m kidding,” he says and pulls the goggles over his face. “Now come on. Let’s get in the water.”

“Right,” I say and look back at the wild expanse of ocean. “The turtles wait for no one.”

The water is colder than I expected and really salty, making floating on my stomach an easy feat. Beneath me, I can see the sandy ocean floor. It’s so very far away.Barbados has never had a shark attack. I’d researched this very thoroughly. The waves are soft and gentle, and I bob with my head in the water, breathing through the tub of my snorkel.

Jamie dives into the water with us. He shouts and I look up, seeing him waving a few feet away. “There!” he calls and points to a spot in front of us.

I swim in his direction, my eyes glued to the waters beneath us. And there it comes.

A large sea turtle glides quickly beneath the waves. It pumps its flippers once and ascends, taking a dried piece of fish from Jamie’s hand before diving away again. As graceless as they are on land, here they’re aquatic gymnasts, and this is their realm.

One turtle turns into three, all drifting beneath us in the turquoise water. They’re larger than I thought they’d be and much more curious. A turtle comes up close, inspecting my feet, and I tread the water as carefully as I can. Happiness explodes in my chest.

I’ll remember this forever,I think.Forever, forever, forever.

Thirty minutes later, my little underwater camera is full. I climb up onto the platform, sea droplets sluicing off me.

“That was incredible!”

Jamie chuckles and reaches for my snorkel set. “They’re Bajan turtles,” he says. “Of course, they are.”

I twist my braid around and squeeze, letting the water drip back into the turquoise depths. “Green turtles, right?”

“The very ones,” Jamie says.

Phillip pulls himself up the ladder after us, arms flexing, and comes to stand beside me on the platform. Water runs down his body in rivulets, following unseen paths over his arms and muscled chest. He pushes the wet strands of hair back off his forehead, and his stomach flexes with the movement.

“That was awesome,” I say. He might be the surliest and richest workaholic I’ve ever met, but evenhecan’t say anything snarky about swimming with ocean giants.

“You brought a camera?” he asks. The sun glitters off his wet hair, now near-black.

“Yes. I don’t think the quality will be great, though.” I hold up the plastic square. I’ll have to get the film processed when I get home… if there are still places that process analog film.

He looks at the camera for a long second. “Preserving the turtles for posterity?”

“Yeah. I promised my students pictures of my trip.”

Phillip steps up on the catamaran deck, and I follow him, puddles forming beneath us on the shiny deck. “Your students?”

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