Jess put a death grip on my hand as the single-engine Pilatus PC-12 banked to make its final approach into Gustaf III Airport on the island of Saint Barthélemy.

"I hate small planes," she said as she buried her head in my shoulder.

I squeezed her hand back and kissed the top of her head. We landed without incident and rapidly passed through customs to meet our driver for the short trip to the Eden Rock St. Barths. The resort sat in the center on the island's north side. A butler escorted us to the Waterlily suite, laying out our suitcase in the bedroom, while we immediately opened the expansive...