Page 83 of The Vacation Mix-Up
His rests his hands on his head. “We pretty much are. Greenland has the northernmost land point in the world.”
“It does?”
“Yeah.”
I take a seat on a rock and confess my lack of culture. “I’m not very good at geography. This is the first time I’ve left the States.”
“Me too. Well, North America.”
“Really?”
He twists his head to look back at me, the corners of his mouth quirking. “Shocked again, are we?”
“You just seem… worldly.”
“I’m not.” He kicks a small stone, and it tumbles down the hill. “I’ve been to the Bahamas, but that’s it.”
“The Bahamas sound lovely. When did you go there?”
He dips his head. “On my honeymoon.”
“Oh.” Guilt clenches my chest. “Sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
Not wanting to dredge up memories he may not want to revisit, I can’t help but pry. “How long were you married?”
“Fifteen years.”
“Fifteen years! How old are you?” I blurt, then raise my hand, realizing how rude I’m being. “Sorry. That was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer.”
He chuckles. “It’s fine. I’m thirty-six.”
“So you got married when you were—” I do the math in my head. “twenty-one?”
“Nineteen. We’ve been separated for two years.”
“Wow! You were just a baby.”
“I was,” he says, taking a seat on the rock beside me. “And so was Krystal. In hindsight, we were naïve and stupid.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Fifteen years is a long time to be married. Some don’t even make it to five.”
“I suppose.”
“Do you regret getting married so young?”
“I do now.”
Silence settles over us, so I pick at some moss and bury my curiosity.
“How ’bout you?” he asks. “Ever been married or engaged?”
I scoff. “No. All work and no play, remember?”
He scoffs too.
My eyes settle on his, an unspoken sense of mutual sorrow and regret spiraling around us with the breeze. His gaze drops to my lips, and mine to his, my heart thudding as I wonder what he would feel and taste like.
