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6.

We couldn’t fly together. For one thing, I was already going to be in Africa. I was scheduled to bein Malawi, doing conservation work with African Parks.

But I didn’t tell her the other reason: We couldn’t risk being seen together, the press findingout about us. Not yet.

So, she finished her Eat Pray Love thing, then flew from London to Johannesburg, then toMaun, where I’d asked Teej to meet her. (I wanted to do it myself, of course, but couldn’t withoutcreating a scene.) After an eleven-hour odyssey, including a three-hour layover in Johannesburg,and a hot car ride to the house, Meghan had every right to be grumpy. But she wasn’t. Bright-eyed, eager, she was ready for anything.

And looking like… perfection. She wore cut- off jean shorts, well- loved hiking boots, acrumpled Panama hat that I’d seen on her Instagram page.

As I opened the gate to Teej and Mike’s house, I handed her a chicken- salad sandwich,wrapped in clingfilm. Thought you might be hungry. I suddenly wished I had flowers, a present,something besides this measly sandwich. We hugged, and it was awkward, not just because of thesandwich but the unavoidable suspense. We’d talked and FaceTimed countless times since ourfirst dates, but this was all new and different. And a bit strange.

We were both thinking the same things. Is it going to translate? To another continent?

And what if it doesn’t?

I asked about the flight. She laughed about the Air Botswana crew. They were big fans ofSuits, so they’d asked her to pose for a photo.

Yay, I said, thinking: Shit. If one member of the crew posted that photo, the cat would be outof the bag.

We all jumped into a three-bench truck, Mike driving, my bodyguards trailing, and set off.

Straight into the sun. After an hour of tarmac roads, we were facing four hours of dirt tracks. Tomake the time go faster I pointed out every flower, plant, bird. That’s a francolin. That’s ahornbill. It’s like Zazu from The Lion King. That’s a lilac-breasted roller, and he seems to bedoing his mating display.

After a respectful period of time, I held her hand.

Next, when the road got flatter, I ventured a kiss.

Just as we both remembered.

My bodyguards, fifty meters behind us, pretended not to see.

As we got further into the bush, as we neared the Okavango, the fauna began changing.

There! Look!

Oh, my God. Is that…giraffes!

And over there, look!

A family of warthogs.

We saw a breeding herd of elephants. Dads, mums, babies. Hi, guys. We started along afirebreak road and the birds were going nuts, which sent a weird shiver down my spine. Lions inthe area.

No way, she said.

Something told me to look back. Sure enough, a flickering tail. I shouted for Mike to stop. Hehit the brakes, threw the truck into reverse. There—standing right before us, a big fella. Daddy.

And there, four youngsters, lounging under a shady bush. With their mums.

We admired them for a while, then drove on.

Shortly before dusk we arrived at a small satellite camp Teej and Mike had made up. I carriedour bags to a bell tent beside a huge sausage tree. We were on the edge of a big forest, lookingdown a gentle slope to the river, and beyond: a floodplain teeming with life.

Meghan—whom I was now calling Meg, or sometimes just M—was stunned. The vividcolors. The pure, fresh air. She’d traveled, but she’d never seen anything like this. This was theworld before the world was made.

She opened her small suitcase—she needed to get something. Here it comes, I thought. Themirror, the hairdryer, the makeup kit, the fluffy duvet, the dozen pairs of shoes. I was shamefullystereotyping: American actress equals diva. To my shock, and delight, there was nothing in thatsuitcase but bare essentials. Shorts, ripped jeans and snacks. And a yoga mat.

We sat in canvas chairs, watched the sun set and the moon rise. I whipped up some bushcocktails. Whisky with a splash of river water. Teej offered Meg a glass of wine and showed herhow to cut the end off a plastic water bottle and turn it into a goblet. We told stories, laughed a lot,then Teej and Mike cooked us a lovely dinner.

We ate around the fire, staring at the stars.

At bedtime I guided Meg through the darkness to the tent.

Where’s the flashlight? Meg asked.

You mean the torch?

We both laughed.

The tent was very small, and very Spartan. If she’d been expecting some glamping trip, shewas now fully divested of that fantasy. We lay down inside, on our backs, feeling the moment,reckoning with the moment.

There were separate bedrolls, the result of much worry and many conversations with Teej.

Didn’t want to be presumptuous.

We pushed them together, lay shoulder to shoulder. We stared at the roof, listening, talking,watching moon shadows flutter across the nylon.

Then, a loud munching sound.

Meg bolted upright. What’s that?

Elephant, I said.

Just one, from what I could tell. Just outside. Eating peacefully from the shrubs around us.

She won’t hurt us.

She won’t?

Soon after, the tent shook from a loud roar.

Lions.

Are we going to be OK?

Yes. Don’t worry.

She lay down, put her head on my chest.

Trust me, I told her. I’ll keep you safe.