Ethan steps closer, smirking. “Tasks can be done in any order. But you doeverythingtogether. One bails? Card’s void. No exceptions—unless one of you ends up… dead or something. Which we’re hoping doesn’t happen.”
“And to keep you from turning this into a 24/7 frenzy,” Aria jumps in, her eyes sparkling. “We’ve added one more rule: a maximum of three tasks per day. That means wedding week bingo runs for exactly four glorious, chaotic days.”
“Are we ready to find out who your partners are?” Ethan grins enthusiastically.
They begin announcing the couple’s, and surprise, surprise—I get paired with Milo. He’s already watching me, one brow raised in quiet amusement. His hand is still resting on my thigh under the table, steadying the bounce I didn’t realize had returned.
Everyone begins pairing up with their partner as Aria and Ethan walk around the pavilion, handing out transparent wallets containing A4 versions of the bingo cards.
Milo pulls the card out and places it between us so we can both see it. We lean in at the same time, and our heads bump with a softthunk. Neither of us moves to pull away. It instantly reminds me of when we bumped our heads on the plane.
“So… we’re really doing this then?” I murmur, my fingers reaching out to brush the edge of the card.
“Seems that way,” he replies, his voice low.
“We should decide what we’re each day—strategically—so we’re not having emotional breakdowns every morning at breakfast,” I suggest.
He snorts. “Speak for yourself. I’m well-versed in keeping my emotional breakdowns to a minimum.”
My eyes roll. “Yeah, right. Mr. Controlled-and-composed probably has a color-coded spreadsheet for his feelings.”
His lips twitch. “And you probably have a chaos spreadsheet titled ‘Things That Could Go Wrong Today and How to Make Them Worse,’ right?”
I grin despite myself, butterflies kicking up in my stomach. “Touché. Today we should focus on the easy ones—matching tattoos, couple’s painting, and sunset yoga.”
Milo nods slowly, his eyes flicking across the card. “Tomorrow we can do the couple’s massage, write the poems, and whatever ridiculous dare Aria throws at us.”
I groan, tipping my head back against the chair. “Her dares are painfully vanilla. She once dared me to eat a pickle in one bite. That’s not a dare; that’s an average Tuesday. I’m ready to push boundaries, and she’s playing it safe like the bedroom only has missionary and mood lighting.”
Milo lets out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrates straight through me. “She once dared me down a glass of scotch… that I was already going to do anyway.”
“Exactly,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Vanilla. She’s scared of anything that’ll actually make her blush. Me? I say boundaries are meant to be fucked with.Hard. Preferably with a twelve-inch sparkly pink dildo and no apologies.”
Sue a girl for liking to experiment. I’ve got a drawer full of fun and zero regrets—except maybe that one time I tried the giant octopus tentacle thing from that sketchy sex site. Hard pass. My vagina filed a formal complaint afterward, and the tentacle now collects dust in a cardboard box under my bed.
Milo chokes on his coffee, coughing so hard his shoulders shake. I reach over and pat his back, letting my hand linger there.
“Easy there, Mr. Wet-Pants-Wonder,” I tease, my voice dropping. “Didn’t mean to kill you with my honesty. Or were you picturing me using that twelve-incher? Be honest—I won’t judge. Warning, though: I only brought vibrators with me. Oneisa rabbit, though.”
He straightens, cheeks flushed, eyes dark and glittering. I wink at him, my pulse hammering louder. I like this—rattling him. I like that he’s not running from it but engaging.
The rest of the planning continues. Leaning even closer, until his cedarwood cologne invades my senses, I keep going.
“On day three, we’ll do the selfie with a local animal—I’ve already spotted some lizards on our deck, so that’ll be easy. Then the waterfall and ATV treasure hunt,” I take a sip ofcoffee, then continue. “They’ll probably send us into the jungle anyway, so we may as well find a cute waterfall while we’re at it. Bonus points if we get soaked—those points are purely for my entertainment, though.”
He chokes on his coffee again. My parents glance over with curious eyes, and I press my lips into a thin line, fighting the grin that wants to break free.
“You okay over there?” I ask innocently, tilting my head so my hair falls over my shoulder and grazes his arm. “You look a little… tense.”
His stormy, heated eyes pierce mine. “You keep talking about twelve-inch toys and getting soaked like it’s nothing, and you expect menotto react?”
“I expect you to keep up, Milo,” I reply with a grin. “I’m not slowing down for anyone.”
His gaze drops to my lips, lingering longer this time, before he drags his eyes back up to meet mine. “Noted.”
I keep going like I didn’t just almost kill him. “Then on the final day, we’ll do the ridiculous outfits, a karaoke duet, and a slow dance to a song neither of us likes,” I pause. “I already have a playlist titled ‘I’d rather die than listen to this song one more time.’ There’s got to be at leastonetrack on there you hate too.”
He groans and rubs the back of his neck. “Please, whatever you do, don’t put me in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.”
