A special Valentine's Day preview. The full podcast, 'Living DANGERously in Love,' launches with three binge-able episodes on Wednesday, February 18th. Hit subscribe!

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They say love is risky. But no one warns you what "risk" actually means when your soulmate lives in a country your government calls "the danger zone."

I went to Santiago de Cuba in August 2019 for a two-week salsa vacation. I did not expect to lock eyes with a dancer named Danger — yes, that’s his real last name — and feel my entire world shift from a connection so instant it felt like fate.

This is the story of how we met — from that first electrifying dance at La Claqueta, to a date that taught me the true meaning of priceless, to meeting his mother (who may or may not have known I existed). It's about broken Spanglish, Google Translate moments, and the realization that sometimes the best communication happens without perfect words.

But mostly, it's about what happened when a global pandemic slammed every border shut between us — and the dangerous question that would eventually bring us back together.

Grab your coffee, wine, or Cuban rum — and welcome to the Dangerously in Love Crew. This is just the beginning.

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I told you how we met. Now let me tell you how I knew — really knew — that this was something written in the stars.

December 2019. I returned to Cuba with a suitcase full of Christmas gifts and a heart full of questions. Would it feel the same face to face? Would his family accept me? Would my months of Spanish practice pay off?

What followed was three weeks of magic: a rooftop love nest where he remembered every quirky detail about me, a family that welcomed me like I'd always belonged, and one unforgettable moment that changed everything — twice.

Then Abuela led us on a pilgrimage hours into the mountains to the shrine of La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre — Cuba's patron saint. There, surrounded by family, she blessed our relationship in a way that made it official in the eyes of his culture, his ancestors, and his faith. The story of the Virgencita — found floating on stormy seas, dry and undisturbed — became our secret map.

New Year's fireworks lit up the sky as I looked at my future. Our future. Together.

But January brought an airport goodbye I wasn't ready for. "Solo dos meses," he whispered. Just two months. Sixty days until I'd be back.

What could possibly go wrong in sixty days?

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