“We’re ready, Mr. Ryel,” the short man said with a thick Spanish accent and a discolored smile.

“The boat is waiting, correct?” Jared asked in a commanding, dispassionate tone he’d never used with me.

“Yes, yes. The boat crew wil take you to the Little Island and has been given instruction. You wil be quite satisfied, Mr. Ryel. You and the wife wil have a happy time.”

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as the smal man nodded to both of us with a grin so wide it made his eyes close. Jared squeezed my hand, pul ed it up to his mouth and pressed his lips to my fingers, keeping my hand against his chest. His eyes turned a bit softer as he thanked the man and handed him several American bil s.

When we went on holiday during my formative years, I loved to pretend. I felt I could be whoever I wanted when we left Providence, and of course Jack encouraged my fantasies. Mostly I was a princess; a few times I posed as a famous ice skater, and once I was even an up and coming young actress. With my father keeping drivers and assistants, it was easy to appear as someone important. Letting the locals think I was Mrs. Jared Ryel was by far the best role I’d ever played on vacation. I righted my posture; I was flattered by what was being assumed and wanted to portray my part to perfection.

Forty-five minutes after we left the wharf, our boat pul ed next to another dock, and the fresh hands of the boat crew went into action. Instead of pacing back and forth, they walked down the sand-covered pier to a trail, continuing around a corner past the thick, lazily bent trunks of native palm trees.

We fol owed the same path the crew had taken to another set of aging vehicles. Jared informed me these were two of just a handful of automobiles on the island. That fact came to light when I noticed some of the inhabitants straddling their bicycles and staring at our caravan with minor curiosity.

The morning had disappeared and evening quickly approached by the time I had settled into my room. At first glance, I was wary of what I would find inside, but once I climbed up the steps of my whimsical y painted bungalow, the inside was spacious and clean. Palm trees surrounded my temporary residence, and I noticed Cynthia’s casita peaking out of the trees to one side of me, and Jared’s on the other.

I splashed my face with water and changed into the turquoise maxi dress I had bought a week before just for the trip. I tied the halter around my neck and chose a pair of sandals from my newly organized closet.

I plodded over the dirt trail to Cynthia’s cabin and found her already on her spacious veranda reading one of the many books she’d packed. She wore a large brimmed hat and square shaped sunglasses, her legs stretched across an adjacent chair, properly crossed. Even in her remote casita, she remained a lady.

“Hel o, Dear,” she said, laying her book pages-down in her lap.

“Hi, Mom. How’s your cabin?” I asked, taking a seat beside her.

She leaned toward me and smiled. “It’s beautiful. And yours? What do you think about the island?”

“My room is great. I’m not sure about the island, yet, but I’m sure it’s going to be… interesting. No cars, no jet skis, no phones, no Wi-Fi, col ected rain for water…not exactly what I imagined when you said you wanted to vacation in the Caribbean.”

“I’m sure you and Jared wil find something entertaining to do. There’s snorkeling, fishing, and so on. Take care not to burn,” she said, returning to her book.

I took that as my cue to let her be. I strol ed back to my cabin and decided to continue my walk, fol owing a trail that led me to the beach in minutes. I gasped at the sight of it. The fishing boats on the horizon, the clear water and the Technicolor clouds were beginning to glow blues and yel ows from the descending sun; it al would have been the perfect shot for a postcard.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Jared said from behind me, folding his arms around my waist.

I leaned my head against his chest and stared out onto the ocean. “I think it’s the company more than anything,” I said, relaxing into his arms.

He pressed his lips against the bare skin of my shoulder and I smiled at the warmth left behind. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

I turned around and slipped my arms under his and tightened them around his middle. He was stil in his crisp white shirt and jeans, but his sleeves were rol ed up and he had changed into a pair of casual sandals.

“Why didn’t you correct the driver when he cal ed me your wife?”

He grinned. “I guess I just liked the sound of it so much I couldn’t tel him he was wrong. Did it offend you?”

I shook my head. “Not at al . I’ve always liked to pretend on vacation.”

Jared raised one eyebrow, amused. “Are you royalty this time or an award winning actress?”

“Neither,” I laughed. “Apparently this trip I’m Mrs. Jared Ryel.” The words rol ed off my tongue like I had spoken a beautiful foreign language. It felt strange to say the words together, yet it was familiar somehow.

Jared’s eyes brightened. “Wel …pretend if you like. There’s only so much longer you can do that.”

I frowned. “Don’t remind me. Only five days left and we haven’t even started, yet.”

“I didn’t mean for the remainder of our trip, sweetheart. You can’t pretend to be Mrs. Jared Ryel when you are Mrs. Jared Ryel.”

“Oh,” I said, processing his last sentence.

He looked down at me with the softness in his eyes that he reserved only for our sweetest moments. I took in a deep breath and let a broad grin spread across my face. As talented as I had become over the years at false impersonation during vacations, I couldn’t pretend not to be overwhelmingly besotted by his sentiment.

“What do you say we walk down to the vil age?” Jared suggested. Sliding his hands down my arms, he took a few steps backward and pul ed me along with him.

“I say yes,” I chirped, stil high from the euphoria I had felt just moments before.

At a leisurely pace, Jared and I walked hand in hand down a dirt road—it wasn’t even a road, real y, more like a double path that had been worn by bicycles, scooters, and the occasional vehicle.

We approached a fork in the path that bore a sign directing us to the nearby vil age.

It wasn’t long before the smal huts and aluminum buildings of the vil age came into view. There were clusters of locals at each one conversing and watching us walk past. Some were smiling at us and some were eyeing us indifferently before returning to their various conversations.

I didn’t see a single tourist shop, although there were craftsmen sel ing various items.

We entered a hut that appeared to be a combined blacksmith and jewelry stand. Jared watched me look over the rings, necklaces and ear rings, some with shel s, some with gems, although roughly cut and not one of them held with prongs or soldered. One ring in particular caught my eye. The band was silver, and at first glance there seemed to be tiny shel s fastened to it in decoration, but when I looked more closely, I could see the two dozen or so miniscule gems appeared to be rough, uncut diamonds fastened to the ring with a tiny wire.

“You like that one?” Jared asked.

“It’s very unique,” I said, stil staring at the indentations of the band.

The man held it closer for me to see. “This is real silver,” he boasted proudly. “We hammer it…see here?” He pointed to the indentions in the band.

“Polished by hand and hardened in the tumbler. The diamonds are hand-fastened with the wire. Ten gauge wire, see…?” He made a show of rotating the ring to show how secure the diamonds were. “Made right here,” he beamed. “Very beautiful. You try on?”

Jared smiled patiently to the vendor and held out his hand. The man placed the ring into Jared’s palm and he lifted my hand, sliding it on my left ring finger.

“It’s a little big, but it fits,” he approved, looking up at me from under his brow.

“It’s beautiful….” I trailed off, eyeing it for a brief moment before taking it off. “Thank you. Have a nice day,” I said, nodding.

I wasn’t sure what expression was on my face, but Jared chuckled and shook his head. His arm hooked over my shoulder and he pul ed me affectionately to him, kissing my cheek. He was remarkably different in this place than in Providence. The clouds in his eyes had been noticeably absent since we’d boarded the plane in Rhode Island, even while he dealt with organizing the crews and getting us and our things to each point in the journey. It was a nice change from the turmoil and angst he usual y dealt with concerning our relationship. If it were even possible, I had fal en in love with him al over again.

We meandered to the end of the road, which consisted of four more brightly colored sheet-metal huts, two on each side. Some of the locals had congregated on one side playing their various instruments. The music was a lively blend of Latin and Caribbean, and it seemed to float in the air perfectly with the heat and humidity. Jared led me to where they were gathered and we watched them clap and play. They smiled at us as we approached, and then the man strumming the guitar gestured with a nod behind us. We turned to see an older couple from the other side of the street march to the beat until they were in the middle, and then they danced together.

Another couple joined them and then the guitar player cleared his throat to draw our attention. He nodded again to the street and spoke again, this time to Jared.

“You dance? Take your wife to dance!” he urged with a smile, gesturing again with a nod out to the other couples.

Jared smiled and looked down at me. “Would you like to dance?”

A sudden feeling of nervousness came over me, but the eager expression on Jared’s face made it impossible to say no. He pul ed me to the center of the dirt street and twirled me around to the beat of the music. We danced for several songs, laughing as the people around us clapped and cheered. Jared effortlessly spun me around the improvised dance floor. My dress fanned out with every turn and my sandals kicked dirt against my legs. Soon I was breathless, but Jared didn’t seem to be remotely tired.

As the sun set the music slowed, and Jared pul ed me close. My mind flashed back to the first time we danced at the pub, and I remembered what it felt like to be that close to him when he was al but a stranger to me. Just a couple of months later, we were in a foreign country, on a tiny island in the Caribbean Sea, dancing together in the middle of a dirt laden street among strangers, posing as husband and wife. Although both instances would be moments I would forever regard as precious, Corn Island was magical.

Once the song was over and the beat picked up again, Jared pul ed away from me with an apologetic smile. “It’s going to be dark soon and you’ve had a long day. We should head back.”

I heaved a resigned sigh, pul ing my mouth to the side in disappointment.

“We’l come back,” he assured me, lacing his fingers in mine as we waved goodbye to our new friends.

“Yes! You come back! We’l play more music for you!” the guitarist said.

Jared walked over to him, shook his hand and pressed a twenty in his palm.

“Thank you. We had a wonderful time.”

“No problem! You come back anytime!” The man smiled, even more animated than before.

We waved again before returning the way we came. Once we passed the fork in the road, Jared scooped me up in his arms.

“You don’t have to carry me,” I said.

“New shoes?” he asked.

“How did you know?”

“They’re rubbing against your toes. You don’t want to get blisters your first day here. We have a lot to see, yet.”

I shook my head. “You sense my feelings and you can pin point exactly where I’m uncomfortable?”

“I’ve told you that already. But it is getting stronger.”

“I know, but I stil haven’t gotten used to the feelings-thing. It’s….” I wrinkled my nose trying to think of an adequate word.

“Weird,” he finished for me. “You’ve mentioned that.”

I kissed his cheek enthusiastical y. “It’s already been an incredible vacation, and we’ve only been here a few hours.”

“I want this to be the best vacation you’ve had…so far.”

“Mission accomplished,” I whispered, running my nose along his cheek.

“I’m going to trip over something if you don’t stay away from my ear,” he chuckled.

“I doubt that,” I said, lightly biting his earlobe. I’d only meant to tease him, but a quiet moan escaped with his sigh.

“Nina, please don’t.”

“Does someone have an ear fetish?” I taunted, grazing the edge of his ear with the tip of my tongue.

He abruptly set me on my feet. I pressed my lips together and tried not to burst out in laughter.

“Wel . That’s something you didn’t tel me on our first date,” I giggled.

Jared tried his best to be annoyed with my teasing, but his face twitched until a grin broke out across his face. “That’s probably because I didn’t know, then.”

I grimaced, knowing he would add this to the list of rules. “One more thing I’m not al owed to do.”

He scooped me up into his arms. “I’m already fighting with myself every second I’m alone with you, Nina. You…in this dress…as beautiful as you are. Not to mention feeling how happy you are with me, in this place.”

He sat me on my feet again and I realized we were already at my casita. I looked over to see Cynthia note our return. Satisfied, she blew me a kiss and retreated inside for the night.

It was only then that I realized my mistake. “You’re going to make me sleep alone, aren’t you?”

Jared tenderly touched my face. “If I had my way, you’d sleep in my arms every night for the rest of our lives.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I said, unable to hide my relief at his answer.