(Cole)
I had been to Hawaii once before.
A conference. Three days in a hotel that could have been anywhere. I had seen the ocean from the window and not much else.
This was different.
Lena had fallen asleep on the flight over, her head against my shoulder, her hand in mine. I had sat there for most of the journey watching the clouds outside the window thinking about the fact that the woman beside me was my wife.
My wife.
It still landed differently every time I said it.
We had a villa on the water, private and quiet, the kind of place designed for people who wanted to disappear for a while. Lena walked in and stood in the middle of the main room and looked at the view through the glass doors and said nothing for a long moment.
Then she said it was perfect.
That was all I needed.
