My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon

I lift a brow and growl, “Maybe I just want to touch your wet body.”

She blushes the sexiest shade of pink, and it’s not from the sun but from the fire we create together.

“So, this is where I make myself scare for an hour or so and you’re free to do whatever. There are cabanas over there” —Dylan points to a few huts with white curtains pulled along the sides— “or sand basically everywhere.” He puts his hand to his mouth, talking around the backside of it as though telling us a secret, “Pro tip, sand in sensitive areas is abrasive and more for the movies than real life.”

“There are floats and snorkels if you wanna swim, a trail loop if you want to hike through the trees, and if you hold a hand up, the bartender will bring you beer or a glass of wine.” He pats his chest, indicating that he’s the bartender too.

With that, he jogs away as if the sand beneath his bare feet is his natural habitat.

“So, what do you want to do?” Emily asks us.

Doug clears his throat. “Babe.”

Whatever drama Abigail is having with Emily, I’m not looking to cockblock my fellow man. This is his actual honeymoon, and I don’t want to ruin it by tagging along. Plus, that plays into my desire to get Abigail alone too.

“Thank you so much for inviting us along today,” I start. “It is more than generous to share your time and this beautiful place with us.” I look deeply into Abigail’s eyes, begging her to understand my intention to get her alone as I tell Emily and Doug, “I am sure you had plans for your afternoon here, so please do not let us interrupt them. We’ll go over to the far cabana and let you have your privacy.”

“Thanks, man!” Doug holds up his hand for a high-five, which I give him. “We’ll go this way then.” He pushes at Emily’s lower back, guiding her toward the cabana furthest away from the one I indicated.

“Doug!” Emily argues, but I turn away, not caring about anything more than the next hour with Abigail.

I take her hand, which is warm from the sun and the work we did to paddle here, and lead her down the sand. “Walk with me.”

The waves lap at the sand and our feet. “It’s so beautiful,” Abigail whispers as though she’s hesitant to disturb the scene.

I don’t see the water, the sand, the sun, or even the flowers. All I see is her. “Yes, you are. The most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”

She blushes, her cheeks pinkening even more than the glow of the sun. Her ducked chin doesn’t last for long, though, as she looks back up at me. “Why do you keep saying stuff like that? I mean, I get it when Emily is around, and it’s definitely driving her crazy—thanks for that—but when it’s just you and me, you don’t have to—"

“Speak the truth?” I finish for her.

She makes a face—one of confusion and doubt.

“Abigail, I think you are an amazing woman, sexy and smart, with sunshine and wildness in your soul. My guess is that you’ve been smothered, people not understanding your spirit and trying to make you fit their narrow views for their own comfort.” She tilts her head, not agreeing but also not disagreeing with my assessment. “But if they don’t support you in your truth, they do not deserve you. Like this Emily.” I look back over my shoulder, seeing an empty beach behind us. “I think she doesn’t hate you. She simply doesn’t understand, and that makes her question everything, especially herself."

"And that's my fault?” she argues, bowing up to defend herself.

I stop our progress down the beach, spinning her so that we face one another. “Of course it’s not. My point is that I see you fighting this cage, and I’m saying . . . don’t. Why bother? You will never be happy if you allow someone to trap you inside it. Own your beauty, own your wings, own the destiny you have created for yourself without apology.”

Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, her eyes wild and sparking. “Pretty words. They make it sound so easy. Just do whatever you want and if it pisses people off, that’s on them?”

She’s angry but I don’t understand why. I’m trying to compliment her, but she hasn’t taken it as such. “No, but you should not have to live small because someone else can’t fathom your boldness.” She settles slightly, sensing that I meant no harm, so I keep going. “At home, in Positano, it was assumed that I would go to university, perhaps get a business degree. I would work and marry, have children, and grow old in the same place I was young. It is what my family has always done.”