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“You don’t want to go back to New York any sooner?”
I shook my head. “No. You deserve a vacation, and we deserve a honeymoon.” I was certain this was where we were going to make our baby, and there was no way I was leaving early. “Is something wrong?” I asked. “Do we have to leave?”
He shook his head. “No. Just making sure.”
I rolled next to him, tucking my knees to my chest. “But I would like to go out to dinner tonight.”
“Really?” He lifted his eyebrows. “No room service tonight?”
“No. I want to try one of the resort restaurants. Or we could go to one of the villages.”
“After that performance, Mrs. Hartwell, you get to decide.”
I giggled. “That good?”
“You really have no idea how amazing you are.”
“You could keep telling me,” I teased.
His eyes traveled to his empty chaise. I saw his phone lying in the center.
“What’s wrong?” I pressed. “You have that look. I’ve seen it. I already know it.”
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
I had a feeling if I told him to grab his phone and check it, he would without hesitation. I wasn’t naïve enough to think he could just turn off the business side of his brain for our entire honeymoon.
“Is it news about your mother or Mr. Lancaster?” We were both expecting his mother and her attorney to pursue as many lawsuits as she could to contest Jeremy’s father’s will. Timing it while Jeremy was out of the country seemed like her style.
“No. It’s not my mother. I’m not worried about Byron Lancaster. They can both kiss my ass.”
“It’s something, Jer. You have that little crease line on your forehead.”
“I think we should go inside and shower before dinner.” He hopped up from the chaise and wrapped a towel around his waist.
I would never get tired of studying his gorgeous body. He hesitated in front of the curtain, giving me time to cover myself.
“You aren’t going to tell me?” I pouted.
“No. I said it’s nothing. It’s nothing.”
I exhaled, realizing that every time I thought we were closer, he was going to hold something back. This was why it was hard to love Jeremy Hartwell. This was what terrified me. The tiny threads we had woven always seemed vulnerable to snags. What if they frayed? What if we couldn’t tie them back fast enough?
I slipped a cover up on, stuffing my bikini into my beach bag. “Ok. Let’s go.” I marched into my pair of flip-flops and followed him on the pier back to our villa.
I hoped no one noticed I walked like I had just dismounted a horse. A hot bath was exactly what I needed before dinner.
There was one week left of our honeymoon, and I was going to soak up every second because today was the day my husband told me how he felt about me, and we needed to celebrate something good.
I pushed the button to extend the leather seat in our travel pod. Jeremy typed on his laptop. Every few minutes he would stop and ask if I was ok. My answer was the same. Yes. Flying back to the States was easier for some reason than when we left for Tahiti.
I felt the honeymoon hangover. I didn’t want to leave the island. I loved French Polynesia. I loved our villa. I loved our dinners together. I loved snorkeling, and even hiking to two more waterfalls. I loved the sex. I loved our intimacy. I loved how Jeremy worshipped my body, and did everything right every time to get me pregnant. I looked at him as I began to doze off. More than anything, this honeymoon showed me I loved my husband.
“Do you want me to order anything for you?” he offered.
I pulled the warm blanket to my chin. “No. I’m going to sleep. It’s night in New York, right?”
“Yes. We land in the morning.”
