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FIFTEEN

Lexi

After a quiet and relaxing evening drinking wine in our private hot tub, we got up bright and early to get a start on our day. We picked up the Jet Ski near the pier at our resort in Miri, ready for adventure. North of us, along the east side of the island, were several small islets inside the reef. The young local who rented and checked us out on the Jet Ski recommended we head for the second island, Koromiri, for privacy and a lovely beach.

My first time on a Jet Ski was both terrifying and exhilarating. I sat behind Slash, clutching him so tightly around the middle I wasn’t sure he could breathe. Throwing caution to the wind, Slash opened the Jet Ski full throttle, whooping with wild abandon. He reached speeds that would have been illegal if speed limits on a Jet Ski were a thing in the Cook Islands. My hair whipped around and the sea sprayed my face.

I just closed my eyes and held on.

At some point he insisted I drive, so I did. But I kept taking my hands off the gas when I felt we were going too fast, so there was more whiplash than I would have liked. Still, Slash remained patient and encouraged me to keep trying, cheering when I reached what he considered an acceptable speed. Fortunately, the waves of the lagoon were diminished by the surrounding reef. The ride was smooth, and the water shallow and clear. It was easy to see the bottom as we sped along.

It was about a twenty-minute ride before we reached Koromiri. It was bigger than I expected, with small trees and shrubs and lovely, white sandy beaches. Still, it was more like a sandbar on top of a reef. I didn’t mind, because it was completely deserted.

We parked the Jet Ski in a tiny cove on the ocean side and opened our backpacks. Slash pulled out a large beach towel, water, and a bottle of wine, while I got my hat, our lunch, and more suntan lotion out of my bag.

We made ourselves a small picnic, munching on cheese, crackers, salami, and pineapple chunks while drinking one of the most delicious wines I’d ever had.

“Oh my gosh,” I said after taking another sip. “I taste banana. In red wine. That’s crazy, and yet it’s so freaking good.”

Slash sipped and considered. “Definitely fruity, but you’re right. It’s quite tasty and is both light and crisp. This bottle is from the famous Koteka Winery, one of the most well-known wineries in the Cook Islands. They create their wines using bananas, along with grapes, and sometimes whatever fresh fruits are on hand, like mango, pawpaw, yellow-tinged oranges, and thevenevenefruit.”

“What’s avenevenefruit?”

“They’re small dark-purple berries that grow wild on the island, at least according to the store owner last night.Venemeans sweet. So, perhaps,venevenemeans extra sweet?”

I took another sip. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I love it so much. I don’t know what kind of genius thought bananas would work well in wine, but it’s shockingly delicious. I think I’ve found my new favorite wine. We must buy extra bottles to send to Basia, Elvis, and everyone back home so they can taste this. It’s amazing.”

“I think we can arrange that,” Slash said, smiling and running his hand down my hair. “In fact, the winery is only a few blocks from our resort, according to the store owner. He would, of course, love to sell us more. The winery owner is a relative, and I’m sure he’d show us around the place if we ask.”

“That is an excellent plan.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He brushed some sand off my leg and murmured, “I love to see you relaxed, happy, and even a little tipsy.”

I grinned. “Same for you. You seemed to be having a good time on that Jet Ski.”

“The best.” He leaned over, tipping my chin up so he could see my face clearly under the hat. “Look at us. Both finding happiness and fulfillment, and we’re nowhere near computers.”

“Imagine that.”

He cocked his head. “Hmm…do you hear that?”

I paused and listened. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.” He smiled, reaching over to rub my nose, probably because I still had a blob of suntan lotion on it. “It’s the sound of blessed silence. No one is following us. No one is trying to take our picture. No one is trying to kill us. And no one, including a runaway pig, is ruining our honeymoon. It’s just you and me. I’m going to cherish every moment.”

“Me, too.” I held up my cup, thinking Slash was right—Iwasfeeling tipsy. “To us, this island, sweet privacy, and this absolutely stellar wine.”

He tapped his plastic cup to mine. “To us and a fabulous, not to mention well-deserved, honeymoon.”

“I’ll drink even more to that.”

We drank the rest of the bottle, then took a tour of our little Pacific hideaway, looking for shells. I found a large and intact sand dollar, which I rinsed off and kept as a souvenir. We spotted dozens of crabs, clams, fish, and especially coral beneath the crystal-clear water. I was struck that I didn’t notice the heavy scent of saltwater that I expected from the ocean. Perhaps it was that the next piece of land to our east was over five thousand miles away, or maybe the small amount of seaweed moderated the smell.

As we walked, I reflected on how many of the important moments of my life occurred on or near the beach, starting with meeting the Zimmerman twins. For someone who wasn’t a big fan of the water, I was loving every minute. The sun and the sand were hot, but with my beach shoes and floppy hat protecting me, I didn’t mind that much.

Eventually we packed up and climbed on the Jet Ski to head back to the resort. I felt reluctant to leave our private oasis, which would be a first for me and the beach.

“Dang it, you’re making me like the beach,” I said to Slash as I climbed on the Jet Ski behind him. “I feel like ever since I’ve known you, little by little, you’re bringing me into communion with the sand, ocean, and waves.”