I’m picturing it now.

I step into the office for the first time in half a month. I look nicely tan and, maybe, well-rested. Nobody knows the full story of my life, and most of the motherfuckers I work with think I’m on my honeymoon.

I look like it, too, in this imaginary scenario. It’s the first thing in the morning, and I’m fucking smiling. One of the Wolf of Wall Street-wannabes I work with takes notice and says, “How’s married life treatin’ ya, honeymoon boy? Was Hawaii good to you?”

And I tell them that Hawaii was just great, and I spent most of my time wandering.

And they’ll be fucking astonished and perplexed, because I am not a wanderer or a meanderer, or someone who lacks decisiveness and well-constructed contingency plans. I don’t play it by ear, and I don’t fucking wander.

Yet here I am, hours after running into Madeline, on a trip that didn’t even have a goddamn plan to begin with, and I’m having such a great time wandering around the beaches of west Maui and the streets of Lahaina with no purpose or destination in mind.

Madeline and I are bullshitting like old friends. We’re not gabbing on about our feelings or our lives or any earnest shit. We’re just rattling on about island weather, banyan trees, long-haul flights, and every mildly amusing thing we pass.

Like the metal sign we’re looking at that depicts a silhouette of a family: a father, mother, and a ballcap-wearing child fleeing from a palm tree. The tree appears to be firing round, black cannonball-looking projectiles at the family’s heads.

The words BEWARE FALLING COCONUTS are printed boldly at the top of the sign, with the same warning in Japanese printed below it.

We’re both stopped now, studying the quirks of this public warning.

“Why is the dad holding a lollipop?” muses Madeline.

“Maybe that’s actually the son, who just had a growth spurt and is now two feet taller than his dad, who has to wear that baseball cap to try and compensate.”

“Maybe. Maybe they’re all children...but the lady’s an adult. She has boobs.”

I notice that we’re holding hands for the first time since we went parasailing.

“I don’t know why they had to depict those boobs. Unless that’s what they mean by ‘coconuts.’”

Madeline shrugs.

“They do fall over time, I guess. Maybe it’s all a metaphor for aging.”

“Of course. So obvious. What do you think the Japanese part says?”

I watch Madeline consider the sign with convincing sincerity.

“It says, ‘This sign is a joke. Can you believe Americans fall for this shit?’”

“So pretty much a direct translation?”

“Pretty much,” she affirms in a whisper, and after an afternoon of drifting aimlessly around Maui, we both finally lean in to share a soft kiss.

I’m having the time of my life bantering about bullshit with Madeline, but I’m keeping the heavier shit to myself today—like how our kisses always just kind of happen, and they feel like the comfortable yet meaningful kisses that come with a long-term relationship.

I definitely need to keep fucking quiet about that.

I don’t know who’s leading the way at this point, or if either of us are paying any attention, but after we start walking again, I spot the main building of the resort just a couple blocks away.

“It’s getting dark.” Madeline looks upward briefly. It means she’s going back to her room now, her world.

I’ll say it: I’m blown the fuck away by Madeline. I barely know her, but every moment with her is filled with an electric fun and excitement that I never felt with Audra—or anyone.

But it’s a lesson, I guess. I’ll be newly single when I get home from my honeymoon, and I’ll go out all the time like I used to and meet loads of women, and eventually I’ll find someone else who makes me feel the same way.

Or not. I don’t fucking know. Or fucking care right now.

I’m actually completely content in the moment, something that’s become pretty fucking rare for me if I’m being honest. As Madeline and I walk back to the hotel, I’m thinking about ordering room service, or maybe just a trip to the fucking vending machine.

“I’m getting hungry.” Madeline’s clarion voice slices through my thoughts. “How about you?”

“Uloji it is, then.” The words come out without me even thinking them. Good, it’s about time my instincts showed up again.

“You’re joking. I’m not a millionaire.” She gives me this side-eye glance. “Are you?”

I give her a sly grin. “I didn’t throw my fucking wallet in the water. And you can’t stay here without experiencing the Michelin star restaurant onsite.”

“Uloji has two Michelin stars, actually.”

Madeline is looking downward, almost like she’s embarrassed to know that.

“Really? Since you know more about it than I do, and definitely more than most of the oblivious rubes who are probably eating there now, I’d like to right that cosmic wrong by treating you to dinner, drinks, dessert, and whatever the hell else you want.”

“The people eating at Uloji are rubes?”

“One thing I’ve learned in my line of work is that money can’t buy taste or intelligence.”

Madeline eyes the hotel.

“I need to just run, literally, to the lobby restroom first. Like, really.”

Madeline bolts into the building, and I take the time to just fucking enjoy the moment yet again. Jesus, have I been so caught up in work for so long that I’ve forgotten how to appreciate just being?

Not ten minutes later, we’re about to walk into the Uloji entrance. Madeline looks down at her clothes, realization dawning.

“Isn’t there a dress code? And don’t we need reservations?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“They’re gonna kick us out, and I’m honestly fucking starving.”

“I’ll go in and check. That way I can spare you the embarrassment, at least.”

“Okay, hurry up.”

I walk swiftly, using sleight of hand to retrieve a few bills from my wallet on the way in.

Madeline’s hugging herself slightly in the cooling dusk air when I get back outside a minute later.

“I thought you knew a lot about this place.” I do my best not to smile.

“What does that mean? I’m the one who said we needed res—”

“Let’s go. They’re ready to seat us.”

I hold in my laughter while watching the look of pure skepticism on Madeline’s face as we walk in.

“Right this way.” The maître d gestures for us to follow, and I finally let out bellow of laughter as Madeline’s eyes widen with happy shock.

Maybe it’s a slow night at Uloji, maybe it’s my doubling of the maître d’s weekly paycheck, but in no time flat, we’re seated by a massive picture window and served an amuse-bouche of caviar and yellowfin ahi with horseradish vodka sauce.

“It sounds weird, but it’s really fucking good.” Madeline’s opining with her mouth full of ahi and her eyes on the sunset out the window.

“Ahi sounds weird?” I ask while spooning caviar onto a water cracker.

“No! I mean horseradish vodka sauce. No reason it should be weird, though.”

“You should have some caviar.”

Madeline shakes her head while taking another bite.

“I’ve had too many strong flavors. It’ll just be a waste.”

Madeline readily finishes the plate while the waiter quietly stops at our table and opens a bottle of Veuve Cliquot Yellow Label champagne. The back-waiter swoops in and collects the empty ahi plate as soon as Madeline finishes.

“You’ve got some ninjas working here,” marvels Madeline.

“Ah, we want to be sure there’s room for your next course.” The waiter’s genuinely enjoying himself.

“The mochi crusted monchong?” Madeline’s wide-eyed, so elated it’s like she’s asking if it’s for real.

“But of course,” the waiter says while filling her glass.

“And the Keahole lobster?”

“As you wish, madam.”

Madeline gives the waiter a little toast with her glass.

“My favorite words.” Madeline takes a liberal swig of champagne.

“I’ll just have the scallops.” I didn’t even look at the menu, but the waiter nods knowingly and leaves.

I reach for the caviar spoon, but Madeline grabs it first and helps herself to a large scoop, eating it right off the spoon.

“What happened to the strong flavors?”

“I don’t know when I’m gonna get this chance again,” Madeline answers with her mouth full. “They don’t serve this stuff in economy.”

“Is it a long flight home for you?”

Madeline takes another smaller spoonful and licks it off. She then takes a slow sip of champagne and flashes a sly, flirty smile that could bring the whole fucking Pacific to a rolling boil.

“Depends on the tailwinds. I don’t mind if it gets long.”

Suddenly, all I can think about is what happened in my suite last night.

I try to calm myself by gulping down more expensive champagne and caviar. The set of plates come out as the sunset is ending. I don’t know what’s in my fried scallop dish exactly, but it’s so good that I almost forget about how fucking hot Madeline looks, even without makeup or a fancy dress.

We end up splitting the lobster, and the meal is somewhat quiet.

“How much longer are you in Hawaii?” I finally ask.

Madeline just shrugs while finishing her monchong.

“Little while.”

“Okay...well, I’ve been having a blast. I’ll be honest, Madeline. It’s because of you.”

Madeline pours the last of the champagne bottle in her glass.

“Cool. I like blasts.”

I slide my chair around so I’m sitting closer to Madeline.

“Hey, I know we haven’t been talking seriously, but this won’t take long, I promise.”

Madeline chuckles a little.

“What’s on your mind, friend?” Madeline laughs again, this time at her own silliness.

“Pretty soon I’m going home, and you’re going back to your life, wherever that is...”

“I’m going back to wherever that is, true.”

Maybe Madeline’s getting extra jokey to avoid talking about this, maybe she wants it to be serious.

“All I’ll say is, the way things are for me right now, it would be a colossal mistake to jump into anything serious.”

“I appreciate your candor, but I harbor no illusions about this. When you go back to wherever-it-is, and I go back to wherever-that-is, it’ll be over—just like that sunset. It’s been nice, though, Ethan.”

“Been nice?” Feeling relieved, I pull my chair in a little closer. Madeline’s blazing, sexy smile returns, and she begins running her fingers around the rim of her glass.

“It is nice, right now.”

Madeline’s brushing the edge of her sandal up and down my lower leg under the table, just barely touching it. I lean in a bit, wanting to see where this goes, and my hand reflexively ends up on Madeline’s chair.

Before I can react, I feel her grabbing my wrist and guiding my hand to her thigh.

“Did you leave room for dessert?” I’m legit whispering, scanning the candlelit room with my eyes. There are a few people at distant tables, and soft music is playing, but I can’t even concentrate on giving a shit, not when I can feel the silkiness of Madeline’s leg, the tops of my fingers sensing the warmth underneath her skirt...

“I always do,” Madeline purrs, not too concerned with being discreet.

I sit straight up and look out the window, the exposed part of my arm staying still, but my hand is edging through the wonderland between Madeline’s thighs.

My cock’s already starting to stir, and after Madeline lets out a high-pitched squeaking noise, I need to take a deep breath to keep things from really getting…hard.

“What was that?” I inquire loudly, playing it off like we’re just a young, drunk couple having some fun in a fancy-ass restaurant on vacation.

“Maybe someone’ll say, ‘I’ll have what she’s having.’” Madeline’s breathing a bit heavy between words, and I’m reaching into her panties for a few light, teasing touches.

I withdraw my hand slowly, and I hear the waiter’s footsteps drawing close behind me. Madeline looks pleased—for now.

“Would the table care to continue with a cheese course? Or a dessert?”

I turn around to see the back-waiter wheeling a dessert cart toward us. I look at Madeline for her answer.

“We need to get going. Thanks. Someday I’ll be back, though, with my lottery winnings.” Madeline’s already standing up, ready to go.

I peel four fresh hundreds from my wallet and hand them folded to the waiter.

“Sorry if this is gauche, but we’re in a hurry. This is for the meal, champagne, and excellent service.”

“No worries at all, sir. Have a wonderful—”

I hand over another several c-notes.

“If you could have a sampling of desserts and cheeses sent to my room, that would be fantastic. You can just leave it outside. Ethan Barrett.”

Madeline and I practically run out of the restaurant door.