28
ROMI
Me: I can’t sleep.
Two a.m., and I should have been dead to the world after spending hours in the forest. At nine p.m., Ishmael had decided he wanted dimly lit pictures of me running between the trees in an evening gown and a pair of stilettos, which was basically my worst nightmare. I’d been so terrified of tripping that I’d been stiff and awkward, and we’d had to do a million takes before Ishmael was happy. At least we were on the beach tomorrow. Sand was better than leaf litter.
Aaron had come through with dinner, though. I’d been expecting PB&J and possibly a portion of fries, but his picnic was a vegan’s dream. Nachos with cashew sauce, tofu taco bites, enchiladas, even dairy-free churros for dessert.
“Where did you get all this?” I’d asked.
“From a food truck in Crescen
