The resort is stunning. A low building we passed on the ride over houses the administration, plus meeting rooms. Surrounding it are lush pockets of trees carved up with pathways leading to the private pods of villas, including the one we rented out for our use.
Nestled amongst the paths are sparkling pools and flower beds exploding with pink and purple and white.
But the island itself is the main attraction. Lush vegetation, palm trees, a balmy breeze that makes me feel as if I'm on another planet. Far from the hustle New York and LA both personify in their own unique ways.
I frown at my phone-no list from the resort or Timothy yet. I had asked the woman at the desk to keep one detail off the shared rooming list.
My stealth wedding gift to Timothy-one grumpy British billionaire-hasn't checked in yet.
The attendant parks the golf cart in front of our villa, a light
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