How to Honeymoon Alone

“Of course you should,” he says. “You’ve got more time on your hands now, too. You don’t have a wedding to plan.”

“Well, that’s definitely true.”

“Until you get married for real the next time. To the math teacher at your school, right?”

I use the paperback to smack him on the shoulder. He laughs, raising an arm in defense, and the sound makes me smile. “I should never have confessed that.”

“Think you’ll go out with him when you get back to Washington?”

“No, of course, not.” I shake my head and lean back in the lounge chair, stretching out my legs. “I don’t want to date someone at work. Can you imagine how awkward that could be?”

“Yes,” he says. “I can.”

That makes me look over. “Sounds like you’ve got a story.”

“Not particularly.”

“Phillip.”

He sighs. “During one of my early years as a legal intern, I dated another intern.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah. Didn’t go great when she decided she was more interested in her roommate than me.”

“Her roommate?”

“Yes. He was steady, dependable. Didn’t work too much and always answered the phone.”

I frown. “What, as opposed to you?”

“Yeah. I haven’t always been the best partner, Eden.” He runs a hand through his hair and adjusts his sunglasses. With them on, I can’t see his eyes. I can only read his expression from the movement of his jaw. “None of my exes were okay with my work days occasionally running to midnight.”

“But that goes in phases, right? Like when you’re deep into a mergers and acquisitions negotiation. It doesn’t happen on a normal Tuesday, right?”

He turns to me. “You remembered what I work with?”

“Yes,” I say. I had googled m&a the other night while in bed. Read up on the firm he worked for, too. I’d even googled his name. Phillip Meyer. But I hadn’t found much. Seems like social media isn’t his thing. “It sounds interesting.”

“You mean that?” he asks.

“Yeah, I do. Even if you never go to court.”

“Rarely,” he agrees. “I mean, I definitely have.”

“I bet you were the hottest lawyer that day.”

He chuckles, just like I’d hoped, and runs a hand through his hair again. It seems like he does that a lot when he’s flustered or taken by surprise. “I couldn’t say.”

“Don’t be modest,” I coo. I lean back in my lounge chair and open up my book again, still smiling.

Beside me, Phillip flicks some sand off his forearm. “So?”

“So, what?”

“Are you planning on dating when you get back home? Math teacher or someone else.”

“Oh,” I say. “I might. It’s not really something I’ve thought about. People seem to use a lot of apps these days, and that’s not really something I’m keen on.”

He makes a deep humming noise and falls silent again. I look over at the sky and the quickly moving clouds. Our conversations are always like that. They take unexpected routes and always end up in places I never anticipate.

“Will you?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I don’t really have any plans to.”

“Same as me, then.”

He hums again. It’s become a familiar sound these days. An answer that’s neither yes nor no, just a deep rumble in his throat.

“I’m not looking forward to going home,” I say. The wind sweeps in gently from the ocean, like a warm caress. I close my eyes at the sensations-the breeze, the sound of waves, and the sand beneath my left foot.

“Not many days left,” he says.

The words send a shiver of anticipation through me. I don’t look at him, but I’m aware of him nonetheless, just a few feet beside me. “Only a few.”

“Yes,” he says. “Wonder what you’ll get up to.”

“Who knows? I could do anything at all,” I say. “I heard those fancy bungalows have private pools. Might go skinny-dipping.”

His breath hitches. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Funny, that. I have a bungalow.”

“No, you do?”

“Yes.”

I bite my lower lip to hide my smile. Flirting is fun. I can’t remember ever doing it like this before, relishing the deepening attraction. With Caleb, it had been over and done with quickly. Both of us fell into a comfortable twoness on the second date.

I reach for my sunscreen and sit up. “I’m thinking of flipping over,” I say. “Would you mind?”

Phillip holds out a hand. “I can do it.”

I turn my back to him and sit still. This is the second time we’re doing this, but on the first, we’d still been cautious-two strangers, not knowing the limits of the other.

His hands sweep over my back in warm strokes. They linger at my waist, my lower back, and skim the edge of my bikini bottoms.