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I met Peter on a snorkeling trip my last full day in Negril. He was chocolate and charming and at the time, everything I expected of a man who worked on the beach of an irie island. We locked eyes as soon as he got on the boat. I attempted to avoid his flirty gazes, but his bright smile kept pulling me in. He was silly but assertive and totally sure of himself. His friend tried to divert his attention away from me and onto my best friend so his own interest in me wouldn't be in vain, but his efforts were to no avail. As we reached our destination Peter jumped at the chance to hold my hand and guide me through the reef. We swam in sync, like we had done so in a past life. He pointed out all the bright colored fish and cautiously guided me away from anything harmful. When we finally tired of swimming and came up for air, he took the opportunity to profess his interest in me. All I could think at the time was that I would be returning to America in less than 24 hours and so I neither took him seriously nor thought twice about his advances, yet we exchanged numbers anyway. Later that night we would end up together, walking up and down the beach like old friends, stopping to talk, drink, dance and occasionally look into each other eyes searching for certainty. The moon was full that night as we once again stood in the ocean hand in hand, this time the stars joined us, and we clumsily tried to identify which one was which. I recognized the big dipper from a past love. My late fiancé and I would point out the stars as well, especially on warm nights as we traveled from island to island. A few days before Russell died boarding the plane in St. Martin, we went through the same motions, looking up, making wishes and wondering what was next for us. As Peter and I allowed the waves to push us closer together, I forced myself back into the moment, back into the present, letting the past drift out with the tide. Peters sweet raspy voice told me I had trapped him. I laughed as he went on about how in just a short amount of time, he had fallen for me. It was a confession I wasn't expecting nor a feeling I anticipated reciprocating. The night air eventually turned cold and it was time for me to return to my hotel room. I hadn't packed for my early morning flight and Peter had a long walk ahead of him. We made promises to stay in touch and I assured him that I would visit sooner rather than later. I doubt in that moment either of us truly believed that our words would hold true, but we also weren't aware of the guardian angel working on our behalf. It wouldn't be until many months later that we would come to realize our love was written in the stars. Whether that happened in St Martin many moons ago or months ago in Negril, we won’t ever know but what's for certain is that what's written can’t be erased.