Page 44 of D.I.E.T. (Did I Eat That?)

“You checked into coach. I upgraded us to first class.Surprise.”

“That’s too much. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense. It’s a long flight; I want us to be comfortable. Besides, nothing is too good for my girl.”

Okay,wow. First class. I’d never gone first class before.

“Back again?” the attendant with his blue sweater, red tie and fake smile, asked at check-in. “Is there a problem?”

“Apparently, I’ve been upgraded to first class,” I said. Sinjin slid my ticket to the attendant and then dropped that same arm around my shoulders, tucking me into his side.

“So you’re the lucky one,” the attendant gushed, making me blush.

With the first-class check-in complete, we walked back over to the bank of chairs to wait. I had to admit, having Sinjin next to me felt wonderful. We sat. He pulled me to him, positioning me until I found a position comfortable enough to rest my head against his shoulder. He leaned in, kissing my temple. God, why did relationships have to be so hard?. The man had my mind running in circles attempting to figure out his heart. He goes hot, hot, hot, thenwhoops, sorry, Vanessa.Well, I would have to let that thought go for now. After all, I had Sinjin and coffee and I was on my way to Antarctica.

Chile, I reminded myself.

Sixteen:

We landed at the Presidente Carlos Ibáñez International Airport in Punta Arenas, Chile after a grueling twenty-hour flight. Even though we’d stood and stretched, practicing a few of Trevor’s in-place yoga stretches every few hours, I was so ready to be on solid ground again. Sinjin took my hand to lead me through the throngs of people in order to do our stint waiting in line for customs and then a stop at a kiosk to exchange our American money for Chilean Pesos. It was nice to have someone with international travel experience along for the ride. Not only was he excellent company, but he knew the ropes. Once we made it through baggage claim, we walked to the front of the airport and waited for the shuttle that would take us to our hotel.

I couldn’t contain my excitement. My first time out of the country. Sinjin smiled and laughed at me as I danced on the balls of my feet while we waited. The driver, a little man in a bowler hat, pulled up and got out to open the luggage hatch on the small bus. He began speaking to us in broken English, but in perfect Spanish, Sinjin replied to him, making even this part go smoothly.

The airport wasn’t too far from the hotel located on the water. The ocean views blew my mind. Too bad the weather wasn’t warm enough to take a dip. Although much warmer than Michigan, the temps still only reached the fifties. Still, I might have to at least take my shoes off and dip my toesies, just to say I did it. The shuttle driver rolled to a stop in front of the doors in the circle drive. While he pulled our bags from the back, Sinjin pulled several bills from his wallet. The driver smiled, thanking him profusely. I had to assume Sinjin left him a generous tip. He always left a generous tip, and the driver appeared far too happy for it to have been a crappy one.

We were met by a bellhop in a traditional bellhop uniform of a burgundy jacket with bright brass buttons and brimless cap, who loaded our bags onto a cart, rolling it inside for us up to the front desk. Sinjin spoke to the older woman behind the desk in Spanish, she too wore a burgundy jacket but of the management variety. Pretty much the only thing I understood was Sinjin Barrow and Brigeeta Posch. As all the arrangements had been taken care of online, he produced his credit card and his identification, we received our key cards, and the bellhop led us to the elevator.

Sinjin, who, it appeared, didn’t do anything small for this trip, had upgraded us into a suite instead of the regular room I’d initially booked. A suite? It looked more like an apartment minus the kitchen. Seriously, we walked into a living room filled with a sofa and chairs, an entertainment center, and a liquor cabinet. Off the living room, we could eat our meals in the dining room at the elegant, Queen Anne style table and chairs.

Off the living room, too, was a small half-bath. Two small rooms, each with a small full bath of their own, and then the master suite with a master bath bigger than my apartment at home.

“Do you want to rest or sightsee?” he asked me.

“I’m jetlagged, or I assume I’m jetlagged, having never been before.” I paused to decide what I wanted. It didn’t help. “But how often am I getting to Chile? I don’t want to waste this chance to see everything.”

“Right. Why don’t we order up some room service and chill for an hour or so, then reassess?”

“I could eat,” I replied, lifting my head to kiss his cheek, but smooth move Sinjin twisted just in time to capture my lips instead.

“You missed the target,” he said. “I know you didn’t mean to go for my cheek, sunshine.”

“Of course not,” I answered, chuckling. “That would be a waste of perfectly good lips.”

“Glad you agree.” This he whispered in my ear, and yeah, I was still in love with the guy. If I had any lingering doubts, one press of his lips cured that idiotic notion and like a lovesick fool, I sighed.

He pressed his forehead to mine. I felt his heartbeat thudding away, even through his clothing. “Geet.”

“Sinjin.”

“Let’s get you some food.” Pulling away only far enough to walk, he kept me in close contact as he led us over to the phone sitting on a table beneath a framed mirror where they’d left the room service menu. We decided on pastel de choclo, which was like a corn pudding with meat and raisins. Also, this stew with chicken, corn, and carrots—it helped that the menu showed pictures. Then rounding out the meal we ordered ceviche and these Chilean donuts called sopaipilla for dessert. None of which was bootcamp-approved, and I didn’t care one bit.

Part of me thought it would be nice to reconnect with Sinjin in bed, but believe it or not, the bigger part of me didn’t feel like he’d earned it back yet. Vanessa’s calls and the merger were always going to be more important than me, whether I liked it or not. I wasn’t sure I trusted him anymore and not because of her. The other woman in our relationship was this stinking merger—the homewrecker. How did a girl get over that hurdle? And anyway, I was pretty tired from the trip.

We sat on the sofa and while I arranged pillows to make us comfortable, he turned on the TV. Together we decided on a movie. Some Spanish thing with subtitles. Then we pretty much just chilled out and snuggled until our food arrived. It was nice. I liked that he didn’t push for more than snuggling while watching an arthouse film.

After we’d eaten—and let me just say, Chilean food was killer good—we left the hotel, but we didn’t order a car. He walked us down to the beach where only a few other souls wandered the shoreline. The small waves lapped against the sand. Salt hung heavy in the air. My skin begged for moisturizer. I kept my phone in hand, snapping off pictures of the gorgeous seascape. Sinjin and I took selfies together with the ocean as our backdrop. Again, this was a romance novel waiting to happen in my opinion. And then because we could, even though it was only in the mid-50s out, we slipped off our shoes and walked in the ocean.

Fifty miles from Antarctica and we walked in the ocean. The water was freezing. I squealed when my toes first hit, but we were living the adventure of a lifetime. I couldn’t go all the way down to the southern tip of Chile andnotdip my feet in. I kicked water up at Sinjin. As I bent down to brush my fingers through the small waves, he kicked water at me. We laughed and ran around like a couple of teenagers.

---