Honeymoon Hazards by Ben Boswell Page B

that response. I was pleased that she’d forgotten my own lingering glances in Annabelle’s direction. In fairness, I hadn’t been fantasizing about being with her, but rather her being worked over by a couple of lesbians. I decided not to pursue this line of argumentation either.
    “Who knows? Anyway, shouldn’t you be more focused on me than on them?”
    “I know,” she sighed. “It’s just, I hate that you were right. He was only hanging out with me because he thought he had a chance to score.”
    “Claire, I’m sure that’s not true. He was genuinely enjoying himself with you. But he’s just being a good guy and giving us space for our honeymoon.”
    I had no idea why I was defending the guy. My own view was that he was an asshole, whose only real interest in my wife was getting into her pants if he got the chance. But I knew that was a hurtful thought for Claire, so I was trying to convince her otherwise.
    The show ended just in time. Trent and Annabelle had graduated from whispering to kissing. I took Claire’s hand. As she stood, I realized how unsteady she was. She’d been drinking pretty steadily throughout the show ever as she glowered at Trent and Annabelle. Maybe a little fresh sea air would perk her up. We’d planned a walk on the beach anyway.
    We strolled a few hundred yards up the beach. We were carrying our shoes, feet in the surf. Getting away from her flirtation seemed to boost her mood.
    “God, it is beautiful here,” Claire sighed. “It feels like we’re a million miles away from home. A whole other world.”
    “Yeah, but it would get boring living here. Just one perfect day after another.”
    “I’d be willing to give it a try. But yeah, I think the best part is just being away from it all. Being someplace where no one knows you. Where your only concern is planning your next adventure.”
    “The only adventure I want is to sit by the pool and read a book.”
    “Stare at the hot girls?”
    “Sure, why not? Doesn’t hurt anyone.”
    She laughed as if at some private joke. A breeze blew in off the ocean. Claire shivered.
    “Let’s go warm up by the bonfire and then we can go back to our room,” she suggested.
    There was a large fire pit, surrounded by wooden benches with cushions. The brightness of the fire made it difficult to see especially coming off the darkened beach. We found an empty spot and I was surprised to see, once my eyes adjusted to the light, Trent and Annabelle sitting beside us, with Trent and Claire side-by-side and Annabelle and I serving as bookends.
    “Are you following us?” Trent joked.
    He reached across Claire to give me handshake, which put his face close to my wife’s.
    “Just a coincidence,” I replied.
    “There are no coincidences,” he said. He turned to toward Claire, “Did you enjoy the show?”
    “You mean the guys on stage? Or you with a girl young enough to be your daughter?”
    He paused, then laughed. “Age is all in the mind,” he replied as he returned his attention to his date.
    Some hotel staff brought another round of drinks. I sipped at mine. Claire took a heavy draw from her straw. God, at this pace I was going to have to carry her home. On the other side of the fire, someone began strumming a guitar and a round of campfire songs broke out, though the words were muted and indistinct as they reached us over the sound of the crackling fire and pounding surf.
    Trent and Claire were leaning toward each other. From the snippets I could pick up, they were busting each other’s chops. She kept referring to his “daughter.” He reminded her of her own youthful indiscretions on the booze cruise. Was it just my paranoia or did it sound more like flirting than bickering?
    I felt a hand on my leg. I turned to see Annabelle who had moved over to be beside me.
    “So what’s with your wife?” she asked.
    I took a quick glance over at Claire who was herself peeking at Annabelle, a look of self-satisfaction on her face. She was