Phillip's gaze stops on my hands. “Is that a guidebook?”

I glance down at it, and the colorful Post-it notes that stick up among the pages. “Oh, yes. I’ve been reading up on the island.”

“I’ll say.” His lips curve in one corner. “How long are you planning on staying? Two months?”

“Two weeks,” I say. “But it never hurts to be prepared. Those who fail to plan—”

“Plan to fail,” he cuts in. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Oh? Where’s your guidebook, then?”

He holds up his phone. “The accumulated wealth of human knowledge, right at my fingertips, and probably more up to date than a book.”

“You do seem very attached to your phone,” I say in a brilliant retort. It’s my wittiest moment to date.

But he snorts. “The disease of the modern age. What are you in line for, then? Is your Wi-Fi also shit?”

“No, it works. Is that why you’re here?”

He nods. “Seems like the network doesn’t reach all the way to the bungalows, at least not reliably. I was on a video call for work this morning, and it kept cutting in and out.”

“Did you try turning off the video? Sometimes that helps.”

He looks at me with a patience that feels entirely put on. “Yes. I did try that.”

The grumpy five-year-old is back. “Take your calls in the lobby,” I suggest.

“I’ll have to do that going forward.” A frown appears between his dark eyebrows. “So, why are you in line?”

“I’ve booked a snorkeling cruise for tomorrow. It will probably be the highlight of my entire trip. I can’t wait to see the sea turtles and want to double-check the pickup spot so I don’t miss it.”

“Is it a sunset cruise?”

“Yes, should be. I think it departs from the Bridgetown Marina.”

“Have fun,” he says.

“Thanks. I’m planning on it. Oh, we’re moving.”

The couple with the large suitcases in front of us shuffles up to the sole receptionist, who welcomes them warmly. The woman speaks first. Her voice is loud and reverberates through the lobby. “Thank you. We’re so excited to finally be here. It’s our honeymoon!”

I can’t stifle the low groan that escapes me. Phillip snorts, and it sounds just as cynical as mine.

“Honeymooners,” he mutters under his breath.

I shake my head. “They’re everywhere.”

“It’s already knocked a star off my review,” he says darkly.

The deadpan delivery makes me laugh. It’s only a chuckle, but Phillip’s eyebrows rise at the sound.

“Oh no,” I say. “I bet this multi- million-dollar resort will hate that.”

He looks away, but that curve of his lips is back. “They better. I can write very strongly worded reviews.”