I’d never had anyone wait on me, and it felt surreal to be lying under the giant white cabana facing the pristine pool with the grand fountain in the middle, the deep cobalt ocean waters just in the distance. I hadn’t planned to be here. James and I were supposed to be in a Victorian room at a quaint B and B in Santa Barbara. The limited savings we had between us would have barely covered airfare anywhere, so we’d decided to go somewhere local and take a honeymoon later, when we could afford it.
But James’s mom had surprised us with this trip during her toast at the wedding reception, wryly joking that there was no way her son and his new wife were missing out on a proper honeymoon. The bed-and-breakfast we’d booked in Santa Barbara just wouldn’t do. The crowd had tittered and laughed, and I’d noticed James tense at the slight dig his mother had made, but it hadn’t bothered me. I agreed that we deserved a real vacation and would have charged it on a credit card if James had let me. We needed to bond as husband and wife. And if we didn’t go away now, I suspected we’d be one of those couples who never did.
At the reception, I’d been giddy and flushed from the champagne I’d been drinking, and I’d run over and hugged Isabella tightly, feeling thankful I’d inherited such a generous mother-in-law. Isabella flinched slightly when I squeezed her, but I wasn’t surprised. I’d quickly noticed that giving material gifts came easy for my mother-in-law—it was offering the emotional ones she seemed to struggle with. Hopefully, in time, that would change. I was used to an affectionate family—you could never enter my parents’ house without giving them each a tight hug. Once my mom embraced Isabella so tightly at Thanksgiving that I thought she might break her, the pinched look on my mother-in-law’s face something Beth and I had laughed about later.
I had started to pull away from Isabella, but she held on to my shoulders, then leaned in closer, and I’d involuntarily inhaled a strong whiff of her Chanel No. 5 perfume as she whispered, “You can use this romantic getaway to start trying! James told me he’s ready.”
I’d stepped back so I could see her face. I studied Isabella’s hazel eyes. She was serious. James had talked to her about this? I shook off the uneasy feeling that washed over me. I thought about the check that Isabella had given us last month. The money she’d insisted was a gift for the nice big house she wanted us to buy. Which I now clearly understood was payment for the pack of grandkids I was to provide for her. I stood in the center of the ballroom at the Pelican Hill Golf Club and wondered: Would Isabella’s generosity always come with strings?
Now at the hotel, I adjusted my white straw hat to shield my face from the hot sun that was beginning to peer into the cabana. I knew we couldn’t wait long. James and I had talked about kids; I knew he wanted them. My stomach tightened as I thought of my last gynecologist appointment when I’d gone in for my annual exam. I swished the memory away. We were still so young, just twenty-five and twenty-seven, respectively—I still had plenty of time to figure things out.
“What have you been thinking about? You’ve been staring off into space for ten minutes.” James stood over me, his olive skin already a deep brown from the sun, drops of water falling from his red swim trunks to the concrete, creating a speckled pattern by his feet.
I swatted him playfully with my magazine. “Were you stalking me?”
“What if I was?”
“Then I’d say that’s pretty damn creepy!” I laughed.
“If you want to call me names, then fine. I’ll take it. But I blame you!” He pointed at me.
“Me?”
“Yeah. You. It’s not my fault if I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. You’re the most beautiful woman here.”
I smiled. “You said that to me the first time we met.”
“I did?” James sat on the edge of my chair and put his hand on my ankle, sending an electric current up my leg.
I cocked my head. “Yes! How can you not remember that? Or were there so many pretty girls at the store that day that you went from aisle to aisle until one of us took the bait?”
I had been chewing on my thumbnail, debating between a cabernet and a pinot, when I saw an arm reach past me and grab a bottle. “This one,” he’d said as he set the Wild Horse pinot noir in my cart.
I had whipped around, ready to be annoyed. Because, really, who did that? Until I saw his face. The way his eyes sparkled. The slight five-o’clock shadow. And his smile. It shone like a beacon.
“Why should I listen to you?” I’d teased, and pointed at the six-pack of Corona Light in his hand. “You look like a beer drinker to me. And also a fan of kid’s cereal, it seems.” I nodded at the Lucky Charms under his other arm.
“I’m multidimensional. When I’m with the guys, I drink this,” he said, and held up the Corona. “When I’m with the most beautiful woman in the room, I drink this,” he said, grabbing the pinot out of my cart. “And when I’m alone, I eat this.” He held up the red box with the rainbow and leprechaun on the front.
“So what will you be doing tonight?” I blurted before I could stop myself. He was cheesy and had obviously done this before—his charm was effortless, like a skill he’d been honing for years. Yet. There was something about him. In just one minute he’d made me feel more special than my last boyfriend had the entire three months we’d been together—he’d always made me work so damn hard for it. But this guy? He was making it so easy. I was ready for easy.
James had smiled and tucked the bottle under his arm. “Drinking the wine with you, of course.”
I knew Beth would roll her eyes so hard later when I told her the story. But I hadn’t cared. “Tell me when and where.”
That was the beginning of it all. We were married nine months later. And now we were in Maui.
James laughed and stroked my leg. “I may not remember what I said to you at the store that day, but I do know what I thought.”
“Let me guess. You were thinking, ‘She’d better have good taste in wine or this is never going to go anywhere.’”
“No way! I was hoping you’d have some milk for me Lucky Charms,” he said with a poor attempt at an Irish accent.
I pushed him in his tight abs. “You know, surprisingly, your cheesiness was one of the things I loved from the moment I met you.” I ran my fingers through his thick, wet hair. “You wear cheesy well.”
James smiled. “Thanks. I think? You should have seen the look on your face when I grabbed that wine bottle off the shelf!”
“I was about to reach for my Mace until I saw how cute you were!”
“Hey. Cute guys can be psychopaths too.”
I kissed him deeply. “I decided I’d take my chances.”
“Good thing.” He reached up and caressed my breast over my triangle top, and my body caved into his. “Maybe we should go up to the room,” James said. “That cabana boy is going to be here any second. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was coming up with excuses to check on you. He’s been over here every five minutes!”
“Whatever,” I breathed, running my finger inside the waistband of his swim trunks.
“I’m not going to be able to stand up for a couple minutes!” He nodded toward his erection, and we laughed.
I hoped our sex life would never change, that a simple touch could always send sparks flying—that we’d never stop wanting each other with such hot passion. But if I listened to Beth, apparently the odds were stacked against us. My sister had gotten married only four years before and recently confided that their sex life had become routine and she’d found herself fantasizing about George Clooney.
I’d been incredulous; Beth was only a few years in—practically a newlywed! “That’s the pregnancy hormones talking. Look at you! You’re about to burst—almost eight months along.” I’d leaned over and rubbed Beth’s swollen belly and said a silent prayer I’d also have one someday. “After you have the baby, you’ll get the passion back.”
Beth had only rolled her eyes at me as she waddled into the laundry room to wash some baby clothes she’d just purchased.
I traced James’s chest with my finger. “Can I ask you something?”