Dreamland(67)

As soon as she asked, they all started cackling. With the ice finally broken, I turned toward Morgan.

“Any regrets?” I said under my breath.

Morgan gave me a sunny smile. “None at all.”





Thankfully, none of them pressed either Morgan or me about the night before, though by their avoidance of the subject, I was reasonably sure that Morgan had spilled the beans about pretty much everything. Instead, the five of us spent the day chatting and occasionally jumping into the pool to cool off. We ordered snacks from the pool bar, and afterward Morgan and I went for a walk on the beach. I held her hand, thinking how it seemed to fit perfectly in my own.

By late afternoon, everyone was ready to call it quits. Morgan announced she needed a nap, and after hauling our used towels to the bin, I slipped back into my shirt and flip-flops. By then, Morgan had already put on her cover-up.

“Would you like to have dinner later?” I asked.

“What are you thinking?”

“How about a picnic on the beach?”

She took my face in her hands and kissed me gently. “That sounds perfect.”





We arranged to meet behind the hotel at half past seven, but like Morgan, I also needed a nap. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Surprisingly refreshed when the alarm went off, I showered and dressed before ordering two Greek salads from a restaurant down the block, one with added salmon and the other with grilled shrimp. On the way back to the Don, I also bought a bag of ice, along with more iced teas and bottled water.

Staking out a spot next to the dune to the side of the hotel, I spread out a sheet that I’d snagged from the condo. I had just opened a bottle of water when I caught sight of Morgan approaching. Rising, I met her with a hug and got her settled on a collapsible beach chair I’d brought along.

“What did you bring?” she asked. “I’m starved.”

I pulled the salads from the cooler, and after we finished, we used the dune as a backrest, snuggling in its shade. I put my arm around Morgan, and she curled into me as the sky began its slow and miraculous transformation. Blue faded to yellow; pink highlights cut long swaths toward the water as the sky turned orange and then finally red. As if on cue, the moon started to rise just as the sun was setting.

“I want you to do something for me tomorrow,” I finally said.

She rotated toward me. “Anything.”

I told her what I wanted, and though she didn’t answer, she didn’t reject my idea, either, which I took as a positive sign.

Afterward, we went back to my condo, already kissing and undressing on our way to the bedroom. We made love with tenderness and renewed urgency, and afterward, Morgan twined her limbs around me, her head resting on my chest. When she finally drifted off to sleep, I gently untangled myself and rose from the bed. Wrapped in a towel, I went to the living room, which was bathed in silvery moonlight streaming through the sliding glass doors.

As I stared at the moon rising above the trees, I thought about how much I loved Morgan and marveled at how different my own life seemed when viewed through the lens of these new feelings. Naturally, my thoughts turned to the fact that yet another day had passed and that Morgan would be leaving soon, and I wondered again what was going to become of us, dreading the idea that a decision was coming, one that might break my heart.

Back in the bedroom, I pressed my body against Morgan’s. Even in sleep, she sensed my presence and responded, her body curling into mine. I breathed in her scent, feeling complete, and though it took a while to fall asleep, I knew that after I finally drifted off, I would no doubt dream of her.





When we woke, Morgan persuaded me to join her and her friends on a visit to the Dalí Museum, an hour after they finished rehearsal.

We held hands as we toured the exhibits, which I’ll admit I found more interesting than I expected. Maria seemed quite knowledgeable about the artist and took time to explain why one painting or another was particularly important, and while most of what I saw wasn’t exactly my style, there were four or five that I kept returning to to study. They were strange but definitely thought-provoking.

Afterward we went to Clearwater Beach, sinking our bare feet into the powdery white sand and floating in the warm gulf waters. I had to leave early in order to get to my show on time, and I reminded her again of my request, but as usual she deflected. Lingering over a long kiss, I whispered that I loved her, not caring in the slightest what her friends might say after I was gone.

The Thursday-evening crowd dwarfed Tuesday’s—no surprise since the weather was idyllic—and more people continued to stream in as I rolled through my first and second sets. Soon there was barely enough room to stand. Again, I was surprised by the number of requests for my original songs—clearly people were familiarizing themselves with my recordings online—and only too happy to mix things up on the evening’s playlist. Overall, it was the booziest crowd since the previous weekend, and Ray and the staff struggled to keep up with the drink orders.

When Morgan and her friends showed up with about twenty minutes left in the final set, heads turned at the posse of stunning young women. I immediately launched into the song that had been inspired by her, followed by some sing-along standards to juice the crowd. Though I was still uncertain about how she would react, I cleared my throat and tapped the microphone, getting everyone’s attention, before turning my gaze to Morgan.