What did it say that she didn’t remember the last time she’d had sex with the man she was going to marry? Rhys didn’t want to think about it. He hadn’t planned on thinking about it when he was supposed to be down here with Jules and Mason. Rhys’s only responsibility was to be around when she was away from her bungalow. That it was her honeymoon had literally never been an issue for him. He’d seen her with romantic partners. Titan had vetted most, since they hired him after that one asshole had abducted her years ago. Rhys had never cared who she dated, only that they wouldn’t hurt her.
Had her other partners been transactional like Mason? Is that how she viewed relationships? Just like she saw acting and life in show business? She was the product. Rhys couldn’t fathom.
“It’d been months,” she said, half ignoring his pleadings, half seemingly surprised. “That’s a long time.”
“Jules—”
“Don’t worry. I’m not asking about your love life.”
He never dated anyone seriously. He scratched an itch when necessary. Similar to Jules and Mason, he guessed—then ordered himself to stop thinking about it.
They ordered an extra muffin and a coffee in case Abigail’s stomach had settled enough to handle breakfast and returned to the bungalow.
“You’re up.” Jules rushed in, setting the to-go bag and coffee on a side table.
They found her on the couch in the living room, her hair wet from a shower and her knees tucked to her chest. The platter of crackers sat on the coffee table.
“Yeah, but you need to stay over there. Way, way over there. I have no idea how contagious I am.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Abigail tossed the closest throw pillow in warning. “You should have run away from me last night.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jules said, gesturing to the muffin bag and coffee. “We brought you breakfast. I could give you half now and—”
Abigail held up her hand like a traffic director. “Don’t come closer.”
“Fine. If you want caffeine and something besides crackers, here.”
“I’m fine. Go make out on the beach or something.” Abigail wriggled her eyebrows and smirked. “Yeah, I’m sick but not blind. I saw those pictures. You all did one hell of a job at faking that.”
Rhys shoved his hands into his pockets.
Jules blushed like she’d never been filmed kissing someone before. “I guess you’re feeling good enough to be obnoxious.” She backtracked toward the door. “That has to be a good sign. We’ll check on you later.”
“Rhys doesn’t do things so-so, does he?”
“Abigail.”
“I’m standing right here,” he pointed out, also heading toward the door. He wasn’t exactly sure what “so-so” meant, but he had guesses and didn’t want to be part of their sisterly gossip.
“I’m just saying—”
“Go to sleep, Abs. Before I strangle you.” Jules blew a kiss to her sister and hurried past him.
“Let us know if you need anything,” he said, following.
“Rhys isn’t so-so. I believe it in my bones,” Abigail announced as Jules slammed the door in a hurry.
Once outside, he caught up to Jules. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. We have a swim with the dolphins after lunch. Have you ever done anything like that?”
“No. What was so-so?” Why was he asking? He had a good idea and didn’t want any part of the conversation about her ex.
“Mason.”
Yup. Her ex and the so-so sex that she couldn’t remember having months ago. Why did he open his mouth?
