“The right person is out there,” I said. “I really believe that.”
“I know she is,” he said. “I just wish she’d hurry up.” He paused. “It’s weird not being with you for our birthday. Thirty years and this will be our first birthday apart.”
“I know,” I said softly. “I hate it too.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, and I could hear the smile coming through even under the heaviness. “You’re about to be in the Caribbean with your man. You don’t hate nothing right now.”
I laughed. “Go be with Harvey. I’ll call you when we land.”
“You better,” he said. “Happy birthday twin.”
“Happy birthday Nel.”
I hung up and stood there for a minute in the quiet of Dex’s kitchen, holding the bittersweet feeling of missing my brother on our birthday while also knowing that both of us were exactly where we were supposed to be. That was a new feeling. I was still getting used to it.
The front door opened and Dex walked in looking exhausted and handsome in the way he always did after a long day on a job site, still in his work clothes, carrying his hard hat under his arm. He walked straight to me without saying a word and wrapped both arms around me from behind, pressing his face into the side of my neck.
“Long day?” I asked.
“Long week,” he said against my skin. “Something smells good.”
“Dinner’s almost ready,” I said. “And I have good news. I checked my portal this morning. I passed all my finals.”
Dex pulled back and looked at me, a massive grin breaking across his face. “That’s my girl. Future business administration mogul with a chemistry minor. I knew you’d kill it.”
“Don’t make it weird,” I said, but I was smiling.
We ate at the kitchen island, talking about nothing and everything, the kind of easy conversation that had taken a year to build and now felt like breathing. After dinner he pulled me upstairs and we celebrated our last night before the trip the way we always did. Loud enough that I was glad his nearest neighbor was a quarter mile away.
The baecation vibes hit us the second we stepped off the plane in Curaçao. Nique had her sunglasses on before we even cleared the gate and was already taking in everything around her with that quiet alert energy she got in new places. The water here was a shade of blue that didn’t look real, turquoise so clear you could see straight to the bottom. The buildings in Willemstad were painted in these bold yellows and reds and oranges that lined the waterfront like something out of a postcard. The air was warm and salt heavy but lighter somehow than Mobile air, like it wasn’t carrying anything.
She had been through a lot this year. School, the business growing faster than either of us had anticipated, figuring out her family, figuring out us. Watching her finally exhale as we checked into the resort and stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the water made every bit of the planning worth it.
But the real plan was for tonight.
We spent the day doing exactly nothing of consequence. We found a spot on the beach and stayed there longer than we planned. Nique had on this color block one piece, yellow and hot pink with turquoise straps and little silver rings at the sides, cut high on the hip. I had been taking her to the gym with me for the past six months and her body was showing every bit of that work. She knew exactly what she was doing when she packed that swimsuit. She ordered drinks she didn’t finish and took pictures of the water every twenty minutes like it was going tolook different from the last time she checked. Nique wanted to walk along the waterfront after and I wanted to go back to the room and she acted like I had suggested something criminal. We ended up walking. When we finally got back to the resort she took over the bathroom for an hour and a half getting ready for dinner, which I had learned by now was just part of the deal. I was dressed and ready in twenty minutes and sat on the edge of the bed scrolling my phone until she walked out and made me forget what I was looking at.
She had on this light blue satin dress that hit mid-calf with a slit running up her thigh. Rhinestone starfish and seashells were scattered across the fabric catching the light every time she moved, and her sandals had these little crystal bows at the ankle that somehow made the whole thing make sense. Her hair was down, gold jewelry everywhere. She looked like she had been made specifically for this island.
“Close your mouth,” she said, grabbing her clutch off the dresser.
“I’m ready when you are,” I said.
We headed out as the sun was starting to drop, the sky turning that particular shade of orange and pink that Curaçao seemed to do better than anywhere else. I reached for her hand as we walked and steered her toward the path to the cove instead of the main restaurant.
“I want to show you something before we eat,” I said.
She looked up at me. “How long is it going to take because I am starving.”
“Five minutes,” I said.
“You always say five minutes and it’s never five minutes.”
“Just trust me,” I said.
She sighed but followed me, her heels clicking on the stone path as the last of the daylight faded around us.
She heard them before she saw them. Voices she recognized. Laughter she knew.