At dinner, there was absolute silence, but this wasn’t peaceable. In spite of myself, I noticed Rayna looked tempting on a long, black tube dress. Her hair was all pulled back and she wore only lip-gloss. I observed how she didn’t have any alcohol with her meal. She barely looked at me—not that I’d exactly gaped at her either. It was then that my anger turned into disappointment. I was ashamed of myself for fighting so quickly after reciting our vows, and on our honeymoon, no less. This isn’t how we should’ve started, not how I planned this trip to be.
After our meal, I found myself on the rooftop patio, enjoying the night air. I sat up there reflecting. I fought with myself for being such a damn hothead. I didn’t mean to lose my cool, but dammit, it is my job to protect her. This means if she’s sloshed during our honeymoon and being careless, it was my duty to be aware of all danger. Besides, that piece of shit was flirting with her. That had pissed me off as well.
Regret began growing in my chest. I’d hoped that I hadn’t blown her honeymoon. She’d shown more merriment and had been more jovial than I’d ever seen her. Just like when water skiing, she laughed endlessly—even to a point of carelessness. But could I fault her for that? Isn’t that what I’d worked so hard to knock down—her guards? Rayna was lighthearted, loving, fearless, and opened to trying new things, like swimming in the ocean and horseback riding. She’d admitted to not having ever done those things and yet, she willingly gave them a try...for me.
Just when I’d decided to go find my bride and grovel my way into her good graces, she appeared at my side. I immediately noticed the somber look in Rayna’s eyes. There was something brewing in the back of them. I’d soon find out just what when she kneeled before me, pulled down my lounge pants, and made love to me with her mouth. I knew right away this was her way of apologizing, something she wasn’t always good at expressing. But by the way she had me clawing up the chair in almost no time, I’d gotten the sentiment. And when I’d cried out in ecstasy like a little bitch, I couldn’t remember what angered me in the first place.
We sat out there, on top of the boat, staring into the obscurity of night. Rayna sat at my foot, resting her head against my leg in peaceful quiet. My chest had loosened tremendously. The silence said so much, taught me an abundance.
At some point, a deck crewmember brought out a tumbler of brandy. “Mr. Jacobs, sir,” He placed the glass on a small table he’d brought out with him. “Mrs. Jacobs requested a nightcap.” With curious eyes, I nodded to him. He then turned to go back down the steps.
“You didn’t want one yourself?” I asked quietly.
Rayna never turned to face me. “I’ve had enough for today,” she murmured.
I could hear the miscellany of emotions in her tenor. Guilt tumbled through my veins again. I didn’t want her to carry this shit like it was all on her. I hadn’t been beyond reproach earlier. I took a long swig of my drink.
“We’re good,” I tossed aloud, enough for her to catch my sentiment.
She didn’t respond right away, but I knew she read between the lines. We were good. A minor quarrel didn’t classify us as doomed. After a beat, I glanced over at the top of her head. Rayna didn’t move much; she was stilled like a mannequin, gazing at the dark ocean. She didn’t speak until moments later.
“I know,” she sighed lowly. “This is all I’ve got. If I lose you, I don’t know where that would put me. We have to be…good.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that so I didn’t. I did, though, meditate like hell on it up there that night. Aside from that, I took it all in. I enjoyed the moment, relished the phenomenon that was having my wife at my side as we charted unfamiliar terrain.
The following evening demonstrated a vast improvement of both our dispositions. We had a private dinner at an exclusive restaurant on the beach of Puerto Vallarta, the place where we’d taken our first vacation together. My, how times have changed. The architecture was splendid as it was laid out in the design of a cave. We ate by mostly candlelight and enjoyed exemplary culinary and artful spirits. Lots of spirits. Rayna’s giggles didn’t return, but her minx persona did.
After we left the restaurant, we decided to take a walk on the beach. We made it to a festival of some sort where the natives were dancing almost in a hurdle, similar to when we were in The Bahamas for Rayna’s birthday last year. And just like last year, eventually someone pulled Rayna into the circle that was centered by a fire-pit. Unlike last year, Rayna obliged and was mimicking the natives in no time. I’d guessed that was a part of the talent of a dancer.