Page 332 of The Romance Adventure

Occasionally, things will work themselves out, a solution will appear, or, like in this case, amends will be made.

Turns out that a hop, skip, and jump from one tropical island to another is just what Jolie and I needed. Well, almost. We haven’t had a “talk” nor have we kissed or even cuddled.

But she said she returned to Palm Cove Villa to collect her shoes and hasn’t worn anything on her feet other than flip-flops for the last three days.

I’m not entirely sure she went to Barbados with me because the property could be good for business should Emmie decide to sell or for some other reason. I’d like to think it’s because my wife and I have something special.

On the flight, she was a bit cold, distant. But after landing outside Bridgetown, she relaxed and seemed to forget about her demanding and high-paced job. I’m guessing one draw for her to come to Coco Key was to expand her territory for Europeans looking for luxury real estate in the Caribbean. However, maybe the last months of tension between us needed to be cut outside the home.

It was a quick trip during which I mostly inquired about my aunt to the locals while Jolie went on her own to make real estate connections.

However, we also spent an afternoon exploring the area, and I caught a few waves. We enjoyed a candlelight dinner and swam under the stars.

I take that as progress. In addition to Jolie officially not ending things between us, I return home having learned three things:

Aunt Lorena is not at Chip’s property in St. Joseph, as suspected

The surf reports exaggerated the waves from the storm swell

My wife is a spy

I haven’t confirmed that beyond the shadow of a doubt, but it’s a hunch and my intuitions have an eighty-two percent success rate.

Take that go-with-the-flow, bros.

The McGregor men tend to belittle what they don’t understand. Then again, they don’t know what I really do, so I can’t blame them entirely. At times, I probably seem pretty flaky. Jolie doesn’t know either, but I have a strong sense that she doesn’t only broker real estate deals.

This isn’t an official dossier, but it would look something like this:

Name: Jolie Elizabeth Bond-McGregor (unless it’s an alias)

Aliases: Alejandra Gallego, Samira Al-Ghumari

DOB: 6/11/1993

Place of Birth: Her passport says she’s from Concordia, but she has at least two others

Occupation: Real Estate Agent, Spy, Officer, Other (unknown)

Hair: Dark brown, chin length, like silk

Eyes: Brown with beautiful flecks of gold

Build: Long limbs made for lounging seaside on a tropical island

Remarks: May have once been a ballerina (will have to inquire), built to live a life of luxury but is exceptionally nimble (except when she fell in the trash bin during the lightning storm).

Accent: Vaguely European, a blend of French and British common to Concordia.

Am I spying on my wife? Don’t judge.

It’s perfectly acceptable to have dual citizenship. It’s also not unusual to stash a passport somewhere it won’t easily be found, especially when traveling abroad.

When we were still at the villa, she left her suitcase open and went to take a shower. I thought I’d be helpful and try to find her house key. Instead, I came across a Spanish and Moroccan passport, in addition to the one she keeps in her purse issued from Concordia.

An ordinary person whose biggest crime is forgetting to return a library book on time doesn’t notice certain things—a bulge under a jacket, gloves on a sunny day, darting eye movements when walking down a street.

But to the trained eye, these can be signs of illicit activity. To that same eye, numerous passports, long periods away, and minimal social media for someone who likes shoes so much, are red flags.