Story 24 | Summer Getaways | Harbour Island: Strangers In Paradise
Imagine your dream beach vacation on the most beautiful beach in the world. Now add your dream chance encounter.
Welcome to 🏝️Plot Twists Summer Getaways🏝️, our first story series!
Starting today and through the end of the summer, each Plot Twists story will be set in an incredible vacation destination. We’re headed to far-flung coasts and tropics, both domestic and international. I was thinking I should offer a beach read, so why not seven?!
I’ve selected only spots I’ve personally been to, so you can enjoy the most authentic descriptions that make you feel like you’re on that exact beach, book and drink in hand, the sun warm on your skin, the crash of the waves and the breeze the only sounds as you devour a delicious story…
First stop, my personal favorite beach on the planet: Harbour Island in the Bahamas. And at the end of every story, I’ll reveal where our next story will take us!
Remember: trips are better with friends, so please invite your reader-besties to join us on this journey. 🙏🏻
(Should I also share my guide to traveling to each of these locations?)
Let the vacation begin!
Harbour Island, Bahamas: Strangers In Paradise
“How do we know it’s a dolphin and not a shark?” Ema asked no one in particular.
Everyone on their stretch of Pink Sands Beach was casually standing oceanside squinting into the waves to discern the exact origins of that dark shadow hovering just off shore. And by everyone, it was all of maybe a dozen people. Harbour Island was a small island to start, it was the off season, and it was later in the afternoon, with the sun beginning to set behind the palms, so the beach was largely empty. They had the surreally translucent turquoise waters and signature creamy pink sands practically all to themselves. Well, and the dolphin-shark shadow.
“I still think it’s a shark,” her husband Loughlin said aloud, equally transfixed by the nature show before them. “Look at that fin, there’s no curve.”
“I’m with you, man. That point means shark!” A couple from further south on the beach had strolled up for a closer look, and the man chimed right in. There are few things more unifying than a possible shark sighting.
Ema mostly kept her eyes on what surely was a dolphin (only hole with that argument is that she was fairly certain she read that dolphins didn’t swim in these waters, but she was no biologist or whatever the name was for an ocean scientist), but she cast a glance at the couple that had walked up.
At first blush, they were like any other pair on the beach. Unkempt, sea-tousled hair. Dark sunglasses. Shoeless. Holding hands, but not in a cringe way. He in a tee and trunks. She in a white linen cover-up, signs of a bikini peeking out. Very normal. Not like the fancy people who vacationed at The Dunmore who were always impeccably attired, as if their hair didn’t react to the humidity and their sunscreen wasn’t at all greasy or impossible to rinse off. This couple was normal, unremarkable. Except that they were both very tall.
Which is what prompted the second glance that shocked her into choking on nothing. Ema was just standing there, looking at a maybe shark, wondering how the couple was so tall, when she realized exactly WHO was standing next to them chatting them up about dorsal fins and water temperature and migratory paths as if ANY of them had any idea about anything.
It was Alison Stone and Griffen Jaymes. Alison-freaking-Stone. Only the biggest music phenomenon in the world and her not-insignificant quarterback boyfriend. Ema had grown up on Alison’s music, every album almost in lockstep with her own life stage – perhaps less dramatic, though. Ema had navigated the treacherous waters of Ticketmaster to score tickets for Alison’s most recent sold-out global tour and later even taught a class at her church on the model those concerts provided for creating a welcoming, come-as-you-are community for younger generations. It was safe to say she was a fan. And then some.
Griffen and Alison’s adorable and redemptive relationship was social media’s obsession, partially thanks to the very public nature of their courtship, played out in football games and concerts. But his season had wrapped, and she was on break from the tour. No one had seen them publicly in a month.
No one, that is, except Ema, who was inelegantly choking and being patted on the back by a concerned Alison, which was causing Ema to further lose composure because her idol was TOUCHING her. Though this was decidedly NOT how she had hoped this cosmic meeting would go down.
Meanwhile, Loughlin paid his wife’s plight no notice, as he was deep in conversation with Griffen about sharks; the two men were boldly boasting about exactly how far they would dare swim out with a shark, though neither made any motion toward the water.
Ema ceased her sputtering just as Griffen and Alison resumed their walk, waving goodbye, shifting their eyes back out to that fin out in the water and quietly basking in the anonymity of a remote tropical beach.
“Loughlin!! Did you see who that was?” Ema whisper-hissed, as soon as she was certain they were out of earshot, pulling Loughlin back toward their beachfront cottage, part of the bohemian oasis, The Ocean View. “That was Alison Stone and Griffen Jaymes!”
Her husband was of course well-versed on the couple, given Alison’s music was a constant fixture in their home and his own interest in football. And just being a human alive during this time and paying any attention to the news.
“Oh, wow. You’re kidding. No wonder you were losing it! I was talking with Griffen Jaymes?” Loughlin lapsed into his nervous tic of stream-of-consciousness talking. Ema loved the vulnerable admissions that this cute trait brought forth. “Wait, are you sure? Griffen was looking kinda puffy. Maybe that couple just looks like Alison and Griffen. And they get that all the time. Or maybe it was vacation bloat. I’m not bloated, am I?”
“You thought he looked puffy?! He’s more chiseled than you any day of the week.”
“Whoa there, honey. I know you’re a fan, but let’s not get carried away. Do you think Griffen thought I could play with him? Not in a game, just a casual game of catch.” He started stretching his arms as though warming up. “I think I could handle that.”
“Loughlin, I botched that so hard,” Ema lamented. “She’s the most important artist of my life, and I just coughed and choked and hacked away when she was standing next to me – and she touched me! I didn’t say a word!! Not a word!? What are you supposed to do when you meet someone like that?”
“You could tell her how much you admire her work.”
“I don’t want to make it about me! And it can’t be like work for her. How do you relate on a human level? Without ignoring what an incredible creature she is. What do you even say to someone who paints pictures with her words? She’s just so witty and cool.”
Ema gave an exasperated sigh and plopped down on the side of their bed, the cottage doors flung open to the lush swath of tropical vegetation they were nestled in, the roar of the ocean an ever-present vacation lullaby.
“Babe, you’re overthinking it. I’m sure you’d be perfect if the moment presented itself again. It’s a small island, maybe you’ll get another shot.”
“Ohmigosh, noooo, I didn’t think that we might see them again. I almost hope we don’t run into them again. I still don’t know what I would doooo.”
“Now don’t start spiraling. Let’s just get ready for dinner,” Loughlin offered as distraction. “We’re eating at the hotel restaurant upstairs tonight, so we don’t have far to go, but that shark sighting put us a little behind.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll shower first because I take forever.”
—
Dinner was a delight.
The Ocean View’s eponymous restaurant sat at the top of the hillside resort, giving a view over the tight property and palm trees, down to the beach below. The dining room was almost entirely an al fresco terrace dotted with sun-bleached wooden tables and chairs and covered by comfortable canopy. Loughlin, ever the gentleman, gave Ema the seat overlooking the ocean, while he faced the remainder of the restaurant, able to give her a heads up when their lobster and grouper arrived, laden with fresh vegetables. This Caribbean island went all out on simple but decadent menus.
The sun had set long ago. The breeze sauntered gently around them, coming and going. The ocean couldn’t be seen anymore, still made its presence known as the waves crashed and pulled. As Ema and Loughlin moved from their table to the sofas for a nightcap and a game of cards, an awkward interaction in the restaurant behind her caught Ema’s eye.
The group seated beside them all evening was on their way out and had stopped at another table tucked in close to the main house. They had suddenly gotten loud, in part due to drink and in part from some strange commotion. Ema craned a little to see what was going on. Loughlin paid it no mind and started shuffling the cards.
A shift in the crowd gave Ema the view she needed: Griffen and Alison were squirming from the unwanted attention, and the group was not getting the hint.
Ema grabbed Loughlin’s forearm. “Have they been there all night?”
Loughlin knew exactly what she was referring to. “Yeah… I didn’t say anything. You seemed stressed by the thought of seeing them again.”
Ema was overcome with love her husband and a sudden understanding that she had to intercede on behalf these two people she admired. She may not know how she would handle interacting with such famous people she held in high esteem, but she certainly knew what not to do.
“I’ll be right back,” she said to Loughlin.
Ema strode through the dining room terrace with confidence, right up to Alison and Griffen’s table, ignoring the over-eager fans asking questions and telling stories without consideration of their targets.
“Alison, Griffen,” Ema said, naturally assuming a faux but convincing authority. “The car you requested is ready. Please come with me.” She smiled flatly at the fans, waving one arm wide to usher them to move on, which they followed. They just needed the nudge.
Without a word, Ema led Alison and Griffen away, back toward the sofas, maintaining the pretense of a “car,” as though she were a member of their team.
Safely away from the clamoring group, Alison finally asked, “Hey, we didn’t order a car. Our golf cart is out front.”
“Oh, no worries,” Ema said, genuinely calm. “There’s no car. I just made up something to give them a reason to move on to get you away from them. I hope that was okay.”
“That was awesome!” Griffen exclaimed.
“Thank you so much,” Alison added.
“Don’t mention it,” Ema said. “Looked like you were in a tight spot, and I saw an easy way out. It was my pleasure. Have a great night.”
She nodded her goodbyes and sat back down on the sofa next to Loughlin, who was still shuffling cards, preparing to deal. The coffee table held their half-finished cocktails, and the restaurant had largely cleared out. This was the good stuff of vacation: the cocktails with condensation running down the glass, the cards fat from humidity, the cool night after a hot day in the sun.
“Do you have any spoons?”
Ema looked up to see Alison hadn’t moved and was asking her about spoons.
“Excuse me?”
“Could we join you?” Alison asked. “Do you know how to play Spoons? I love playing cards on vacation.”
“I love Spoons,” Ema said thickly, channeling her reverence for this unexpected moment into her genuine favorite card game. BE COOL, she screamed at herself internally. DO NOT PASS OUT. BREATHE. Do not open your eyes wide. Poker face. Breathe. Just play cards. Breathe.
“Please, join us. We can ask for spoons, and get you guys some drinks,” Laughlin said, gesturing for the waitress.
“Perfect, let’s play,” Ema said, leveling out and realizing she would remember this vacation forever.
Next Stop
I intended to have a cute itinerary mapping out our schedule for Plot Twists Summer Getaways, but it’s currently the wee hours of the morning before this goes out, and I haven’t started it yet, and I do have a baby to tend to, so I’ll add it in later… We still have a lot of summer left!
Drumroll, please! For our next Plot Twists Summer Getaways story, out June 12, we’re going to The Hamptons!
UPDATE: *cute* itinerary graphic now complete. Now mama needs a nap.
🩵 If you enjoyed this post, please click the like button below.
That small action means a lot to me. It’s a reminder that you are who I’m writing for, and it helps me get these stories in front of new readers. Thank you for being part of this community!
💌 Looking for your next read?
If you liked this story, I would also recommend:
Story 12, pt 1 | A Meet Cute For Christmas
Happy December! We’re kicking off the month with a two-part holiday romance. This plot is my direct response to cheesy, dissatisfying holiday rom-com movies and wishing for something more substantial that was still a blast. More “The Holiday” and less “I Fell In Love With A Snowman.” I made that latter title up, but they’re not that far off.