Chapter 40

“What are those boats?” he asked me, pointing to an incoming ferry as it cruised past us. “Would you want to do a harbor cruise or something, so we could get out on the water?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” I told him, and we followed the ferry along the waterfront promenade, up to Circular Quay, where it docked and disgorged its passengers.

“If we take a ferry to Manly, it’s cheaper, and we’ll go right past the opera house; you can get some great pictures. Then we can go hang out on the beach a little bit, maybe get something to eat.” Manly is only about thirty minutes from Sydney by ferry, and the tree-lined beach is an easy place to while away an afternoon, with lots of cute ethnic cafes across the street, and my favorite used bookstore tucked away up a little-known side street.

Which is how I ended up luxuriating in warm sand in the South Pacific sharing a bottle of screw top Chardonnay with a shirtless hunk, asking him questions about his many tattoos.