Last Resort Read Online Free PDF

behind. Should you have any request—no matter how small—please do not hesitate to bring it to my attention. We pride ourselves on our hospitality. I may be biased in my opinion, but at the end of your holiday I am sure you will agree that Isla Fin de la Tierra is the closest place to heaven on earth.”
    Jonas drives us across the bridge to our bungalows.
    “It’s beautiful,” Gwen enthuses upon seeing the interior of our bungalow. “We have to take pictures. Check out the bathroom. This is the nicest place I’ve ever stayed.”
    I have to agree. The bungalow has a vaulted ceiling with exposed wooden beams and a massive ceiling fan with blades shaped like banana leaves. Our bed is on a platform overlooking a seating area that comprises a few comfortable chairs, a coffee table, and a couch. The bathroom is spacious with a large, walk-in double shower.
    This is the first time I have been alone with Gwen since we left home. I collapse on the bed and kick off my shoes.
    “You hungry?” she asks.
    “Starving.”
    “I’ll take a quick shower—then we can hit the restaurant.”
    I hear the shower faucet turn on. I begin to unpack my luggage and notice a silver, ice-filled pail with a bottle of champagne sticking out of it. The card taped to the pail reads:
    To Mr. and Mrs. Crane. May this be the first of many romantic nights. Courtesy, Jonas Dunlap.
    Holding the pail, I feel like an impostor. It is a welcoming gift better suited for honeymooners—not for a man and woman just coming off a months long separation. If things on this trip go successfully, we can drink the champagne on our last night to celebrate. If the trip ends in disaster, I can always drink the bottle alone to get good and drunk. I take the pail, open the sliding glass doors to our small patio facing the beach, and toss the ice to the sand. The champagne I place far back on the top shelf of our closet. Gwen hums softly in the steamy shower. I do not mention the champagne.
    “Honey, can you help me with my dress?”
    Gwen is in the bathroom. I enter to find her topless, wearing only lacy panties. I am stunned. We used to walk around nude in front of each other all the time, lounging in bed for long hours, naked and carefree, but that was before I discovered her affair. This is the first time since we separated I have seen any skin on my wife past her collarbone. Before her exquisite beauty, my mouth hangs open and I stammer nonsensically. If she notices my awkwardness, she does not let on.
    She puts the bra on and turns her back to me. “Can you buckle this?”
    I fasten her bra. She slips into her dress—a flattering red cocktail piece that tempts me to run a hand over the smooth silk that hugs her curves.
    “I hope you’re going to get dressed,” she says as she turns to the mirror to apply make-up. “They won’t seat us for dinner unless you’re in formal wear. Isn’t that exciting, Phillip? Getting all dressed up for dinner? I feel like I’m in a classic film.”
    “Sure, I’ll get one of my suits.”
    “Don’t you want to shower first? A hot shower is so refreshing after a day cramped on airplanes.”
    The thought of stripping down and exposing myself to Gwen is unnerving.
    “It will take too long,” I dodge. “Maybe I’ll take one later.”
    She shrugs, and then turns to me eagerly. “Hey, Phillip, before we go to dinner can we walk on the beach?”
    “I like that idea. I was hoping to hit the beach as soon as we arrived.”
    “Great. When we walk on the beach, make sure you roll up the hem of your pants. I want to be near the waves. I find it so romantic—walking on the beach with my handsome husband.”
    I blush.
    “This might sound sort of silly,” she adds. “But there is something about waves washing on the shore—one wave after another, forever, endless—that strikes me as incredibly rejuvenating. The water wipes everything clean.”
    Wipe everything clean. The subtext doesn’t escape me. We finish dressing and