FIN
'Guajira, el son te llama a bailar, a gozar....' The lyrics of Amor Verdadero are still sweeping through my head.
I wake up to find myself softly humming the tune. And my hips are gently rolling from side to side. As if I've been dancing in my sleep.
The rattan fan in the shape of a palm spins slowly on the ceiling above with barely a murmur. I hear the faint chink of plates as Beatriz sets up the table in the garden gazebo. For our second last breakfast here, on the Cayo Santa Maria.
Early tomorrow we'll be motoring our way back to Havana for the night. Before jumping on a plane for Florida, then onto Atlanta and....home.
I can't believe how fast the last three weeks have flown by. And I know neither of us are relishing the thought of leaving this beautiful country. The sights, sounds, colours, food and beaches.
But most of all....the people.
Sorry, waxing a bit lyrical much? Don't mean to come off like a tourism commercial.
***
"I've always wanted to go there, but no one ever wanted to come with me. Looks to me like a photographer's dream. And with the clubs, music....well....it's not exactly your run-of-the-mill honeymoon destination I s'pose?"
"You don't mind us going to Cuba....do you Skip?" Norman asked tentatively after we landed in Houston and went to check in for our next flight.
Think the fact that I smothered him in eager kisses? Then all but bounced my way to the first-class airline lounge with his hand in mine. Told him I didn't mind a jot!
The flight took just over seven hours and we forced ourselves to sleep for some of it. Because we're both still exhausted after the wedding. But our excitement got the better of us halfway through.
"I've booked us into a little hotel for the first few nights in Old Havana. They gave us the honeymoon suite. Are you Ok with that....sharing a bed?"
"Well it'll look a bit weird if we ask for a twin, huh? And I suppose we need to get used to it for when we start travelling for your work and stuff. Word of warning though. Hog the feckin blankets and I'll treat you to a Dutch Oven."
"You seem to forget, me little divil....that I'm prime serial killer material. I don't take kindly to threats."
"Newsflash, dear. We're married. I'm your wife now and wives don't make threats....only promises."
"You promised to protect me."
"Only from others, not from moi."
"Lucky me then, eh Skip" He whispered slyly.
Did that thing where he tilts his head back, then looks at me with half-lowered lids. With a little smile that'll melt the polar ice cap....and my underwear.
Right then? I wished I could dunk myself in the frigid run-off.
Will I never learn?
Norman watched me with great amusement when lunch was served. As I marvelled over the number of courses. The silver service, teeny-tiny salt and pepper shakers that're in the shape of planes.
"Souvenir. It's Ok, they expect you to take them" He winked then wrapped his up in a tissue and slipped them into my carry-all.
"Over the next few months between filming we'll be pretty much going around the world, Skip. Most of it in First Class like this. You'll get used to it all."
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A Convenient Wife - A Norman Reedus Fanfic Romance
FanfictionSemi-mature. Completed. There is such a thing as being too 'eligible' a bachelor and Norman is finding the price of fame a high one. He thought having a wife would give him some protection. But this is one trip down the aisle that could end up with...
