Chapter 4

 

 

A boat takes us to a private island – an island I own. Cherish is surprised by it – asks me why I need my own island.

I tell her, “First, we’re married so everything that’s mine is yours. And I bought an island because I have to spend all this money on something, baby, so why not buy an island?”

The boat docks. Gentle, turquoise, buoyant waves bounce the vessel against the pier. I take Cherish’s hand to assist her off the boat. She stands on the dock and takes in the scenery. From where we are, we can see the massive size mansion surrounded by tropical trees with a mountainous terrain as its backdrop. I knew I wanted the house when I first saw it, the same way I knew I wanted Cherish when I first saw her. But back to the house – it’s a large mansion big enough to house four families, but it’s only us. For two weeks, we’ll have a few workers to cook and keep the place tidy. To keep a stock of anything we need. They’re staying at the guesthouse a few miles from where we are. I didn’t want them staying at the house. It just needs to be me and my woman.

Cherish’s mouth falls open when she sees the house. Is that—”

“Yes. That’s where we’re going.”

We walk across the beach. It only takes a few minutes to make it to the house. We walk inside. She’s still in awe of this place. I don’t know why. It’s only a third of the size of the estate, but whatever the case, she’s fascinated.

I give her a quick tour then we make love in the shower before dinner. We’re sitting here in front of the food. After I prepare a plate for her, I make one of my own. Curry dishes are big here. The chef makes a fish curry and rice meal. Smells delicious.

When we start eating, Cherish comments on how good and different the food is, then she says, “I have a confession to make.”

“What’s that?”

“Sometimes, it’s difficult for me to determine when you’re being serious versus when you’re just playing with me.”

I glance over at her and look away. I’m aware she has a hard time with that. Most people do. However, I would like to think she knows me better than most people.

“Maybe having me all to yourself for two weeks will help you in that regard.”

“You think so?”

I look at her and continue eating.

“See, like right now you didn’t respond to me.”

“I didn’t think I needed to.”

“Monty, Monty, Monty,” she hums. “I’m glad we have this time to ourselves because there are a lot of things I want to know about you.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“No rush. We have two weeks, right?”

“Yes,” I say holding her vision with precision. “Two…weeks.”

She glances away like she can’t handle my stares. She probably can’t. I have to make her look at me most times. Like my eyes possess some kind of power she can’t absorb too much of.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” she asks.

“No, not at all, sweetheart. Eat before your food gets cold.”

She peers at me for a moment before deciding to take my advice, but it doesn’t last long. She says, “I have a question for you.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“What is the number one thing you like about me?”

“The number one thing?” I ask.

“Yes.”

There’s no number one thing, really. My love for her encompasses everything she is. “Can you specify?”

“Specify how?”

“Are you talking mentally or physically?”

“You choose.”

I wipe my mouth and say, “I like your will.”

“My will?”

“Yes. Your determination. You’re a strong-willed woman.”

“In your line of work, I’m sure you’ve crossed paths with plenty of strong-willed women.”

“I have. What’s your point?”

“You’ve never thought of dating any of them?”

“No. Cherish, can you eat, baby?”

“I am eating. I can eat and talk at the same time. I just want you to answer my question.”

“I answered your question,” I say, but I don’t tell her the answer to what she’s seeking because, in all honesty, the women before her don’t matter. She’s all that matters to me. “Back to what I was saying about you—you’re are a very strong-willed woman. You’ve endured a lot and never gave up.”

“In some ways I did. I didn’t go completely to the left and turn to the streets or nothing like that, but I did give up.”

I lower my fork. This is the first time I’ve heard her say this, so I want her to know she has my full attention. I ask, “How did you give up?”

“By not aspiring for things.”

“What things?”

“Goals I wanted to meet. I wanted to be somebody. No offense, but do you think I aspired to be someone’s personal assistant? I’m not knocking it. It was a job. It enabled me to pay my bills, but I don’t think it’s a position people dream about. It’s just one that needs to be filled.”

“Then tell me what kind of work you want to do and I’ll help you work toward it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. Why do you sound surprised?”

“Because when I mentioned something about cooking, you pretty much told me I wouldn’t have to do that—almost like you don’t want me to work or do anything else.”

“I want you to do whatever you want, Cherish. I’m not holding restrictions over you. As for cooking, you don’t need to do that. That’s what chefs are for. Besides, it will free up your time to chase your dreams and be a mother to our children.”

“That’s the problem—I’m not quite sure what I’m chasing,” she responds looking down at her plate. She looks up and says, “When you get stuck in life, the dreams stop and you accept our circumstances. So, I don’t know what I want. I don’t know.” She looks embarrassed to admit that.

“Well, fortunately, you have all the time in the world to figure that out.”

“Yeah. I suppose I do.”

“In the meantime, let’s enjoy our honeymoon.”

She smiles but I see the uncertainty in the depths of her pretty eyes.