Rojo Beach
7:27 P.M.
Rojo Beach looked gorgeous that evening. Swirls of reds and pinks played and intermingled with the clouds. A light wind teased my hair, as well as Lex’s, and blew against our shoulders, licking at our shirts as we walked northward bound in the warm sand. There were very few people on the private beach. They relaxed on beach towels in the calming wind and ate ice cream cones purchased inland and brought to the beach. Couples necked on cement benches under palm trees. The temperature dropped to a sweet eighty degrees with no humidity, but in the distance, over the Gulf’s blue-green dark niceness, thunder rumbled, thudding in the heavens and warning of a minor storm for the later part of the evening.
I wondered if Lex wanted to hold my hand, but believed he didn’t. Whe
