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"They're very pretty," I said, marveling at the delicate blooms.
"This island is full of flowers. We have a couple of mango and papaya trees on the other side," he added.
I looked up, spotting clusters of coconuts hanging from the trees. "I see coconuts up there."
"Yes, plenty of those," Oliver agreed, pulling a handkerchief from the back pocket of his cargo shorts to wipe his face. The humidity was high, and I could feel my skin misted with sweat.
We continued through the woods, with Oliver pointing out various flowers and bushes. Some had fruit on them, and he pulled off two purple, tennis ball-sized ones, sticking them in his pocket.
"What are those?" I asked, curious.
"Passion fruit. We can have them with lunch," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"How much further?" I inquired, feeling the anticipation build.
"Not much. The beach is beautiful and pristine. You'll love it," Oliver assured me, his hand slipping into mine.
We arrived twenty minutes later, and Oliver was right, the sand was pristine and clean except for some seaweed brought up by the tide. We stripped out of our clothes before we had lunch. I wore a more modest bathing suit this time which was dark blue and covered all my parts.
We frolicked in the water and even though it was warm as bath water, it still was refreshing. We went back to the beach and laid down our thick white towels so we could have some lunch. The chef had packed us several containers in insulated freezer bags with ice packs.
Oliver took them out, opening the tops to reveal cubes of assorted cheeses, cured meats, olives, crusty slices of bread, hummus, homemade tortilla chips and an entire container of macrons. I took out a blueberry one and popped it into my mouth before we feasted on our meal. Oliver removed a pocketknife from his backpack and cut up the passion fruit, feeding me slices. It was delicious and I needed to go to the water to wash the juices off my face and hands.
“Are you having a good time?” Oliver asked.
“This is wonderful, but do you think we can go to St. Croix tomorrow?”
He chuckled. “Are you getting bored with me?”
“Not at all. I want to do a little shopping. Last time we were here, I saw some cute little shops I didn’t get a chance to visit.”
“Whatever my bride wants.”
Once we were finished eating, we packed up the leftovers and put them back into Oliver’s backpack then laid in the sun like lazy cats. He reached for my hand and put it to his mouth, kissing the back of it.
“I’m glad we decided to come here for our honeymoon,” I said.
"Me too. It was some feat to get the house ready in time," Oliver said, looking around at the pristine beach and the lush surroundings.
"And you did a lovely job," I replied, squeezing his hand.
"What's more, the house will be here for years to come, even if we have a bad hurricane," he added confidently.
"I don't want to think about this island getting destroyed by weather," I said, shuddering at the thought.
"It won't. I had it constructed with the best. The engineers tell me it will withstand the most vicious hurricane," he reassured me.
"Think of all the fun we can have here with our family. We could celebrate Christmas here," I mused, picturing our future together.
"Would you want to do that instead of staying in New York?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Maybe, though I do love New York during the holidays," I admitted.
"It doesn't matter where we go, as long as we're together," Oliver said, his voice softening.
I laughed. "Mr. Fox, I do believe you're turning into a mush."
"That's your fault," he said with a grin.
