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Hale withdrew his phone to obsess over our unchanged travel schedule some more. “I emailed it to you so you have a copy.”
“Great. I was looking for something enthralling to read on the flight.”
“I’m just trying to make sure everything goes according to plan.”
“I know. And I’m choosing to ignore your anal-retentive, compulsive need to obsess over unchanged details because I love you, and I know this is one of the many ways you love me back. But Hale, if you act like a nitpicky perfectionist once we’re on the islands I will duct tape your mouth shut.” I smiled sweetly. “‘Kay?”
He held my stare and shut off his phone. “Point taken.”
We were taking the private jet out of JFK International Airport at seven and would be in the air for approximately four hours before landing on the sunny islands of
Turks and Caicos. My stress levels were already plummeting at the mere thought of ocean breezes, weather in the mid-eighties, and passing day after commitment-free day on the powdery white beaches overlooking the turquoise sea. So I wasn’t going to let Hale’s OCD cramp my chill vibe.
An army of bellmen appeared and Hale directed them with the authority of a military leader. I ignored the chaos and pre-gamed in the kitchen with the butler, who had just made me a delicious margarita.
“I’m going to miss your margaritas, Percy.”
“Thank you, madam. But I’m sure they’ll have delicious cocktails at your next destination.”
“But yours are made with love.”
“Thank you, madam. The trick’s in the limes and cilantro.”
I raised a brow. “Interesting.”
“Rayne—” Hale paused in the doorway. “You’re drinking?”
I raised a brow. “Are we not supposed to?”
He pocketed his phone and wallet. “The cars will be packed in twenty minutes. It’s time to say goodbye to Elara.”
My good mood evaporated. This was why I needed alcohol.
Twenty minutes later, Hale was consoling me in the back of the sleek town car as I wept quietly and considered canceling the whole trip.
“She’ll be fine, baby. We can check in with them as soon as we land.”
I knew he was right, but it felt like I was leaving my heart behind. That regretful sentiment evaporated, however, the moment we hit the islands.
Our villa was an ivory masterpiece, stunningly contrasting against the cerulean blue of the ocean that mirrored the flawless sky. It was our own personal Eden, a literal heaven on earth, and I was on board for a long week full of sin.
We started each day with mind-blowing sex, a few screaming orgasms, then a boozy brunch, and a good morning call to Peanut. We slept off all that hard work on the beach, followed by a soak in the hot spa, and more incredible sex. Each day concluded with a decadent dinner, then night swimming under the stars which inevitably led to—you guessed it—more sex.
I had a feeling Hale was trying to cash in on his wedding gift. I gave him the only thing I knew he really wanted and couldn’t buy—consent to knock me up.
Was I ready to have a baby? No, not really. But I hadn’t been prepared for half the shit in my life and things were working out okay. Plus, I loved being a mommy to Elara. My life was already full of rattles and diapers, so why not add some more?
After Turks and Caicos, it was off to the Maldives. No private jet on this trip, because that flight was a hell-of-a-long jaunt. Twenty-one freaking hours with only a short layover in between. I experienced every possible emotion on that journey and, honestly, I was shocked Hale hadn’t thrown me off the plane at one point. But, man, was it worth it.
Maldives was the perfect idyllic setting for a romantic getaway. The seas were calm, the skies were clear, and the breathtaking coral reefs were just beyond the pristine beaches. This time we were staying in a private little hut right on top of the water. Hale said it was the perfect place for snorkeling and diving.
To be clear, I had never been much of an adventure girl. Nor was I into water sports—or any sports for that matter. Honestly, walking left me winded some days, and I never ran unless something was chasing me. But I was coming to discover Hale was a bit of an adrenaline seeker, so I made arrangements for us to do some underwater exploring.
I was an okay swimmer—meaning I survived by doggy paddle, but Hale had been on the swim team in college. He’d grown up on various coasts. He spent a lot of time at sea on his father’s yacht and often sailed with his brother. I should have known I’d be way out of my league.
“Where did you say you rented this equipment?” Hale asked as he examined what I had thought was top-of-the-line snorkeling gear.
“They were advertised on one of the brochures.” I’d been slightly persuaded by the cute little cartoon fish in the ad, but now I sensed I might have been swindled. “Does yours smell like fish? Mine smells a little like fish.”
