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Ian
“I’m not sure this is the best idea,” Zoe announced.
I picked up the bags the kindly porter had set at my—our—feet before zooming off down the narrow, twisty road before us. It led away from the old rehabbed church that served as my brother’s and his wife’s vacation property on a remote island, the name of which continued to elude me though I was currently standing on it.
St. John’s? Yes, that seemed like it could be the one. I would attempt to discreetly find out while not acting as if I didn’t already know.
Zoe and I were relatively new to this whole relationship business. I’d swiftly realized that being in a committed union was like navigating a minefield. I was just gaining my footing on the battleground. Slow but steady.
I was also learning how to be a brother. Simon and I hadn’t grown up together. He’d been raised in California while I’d been raised in London. We were just beginning to learn to tolerate each other. Him more so than me. Though I’d had the requisite feelings of jealousy that came from being pitted against each other by our mum, I’d also had a bit of hero worship.
No part of Simon had worshipped me. To be fair, he’d had no warning of my existence, and my arrival had heralded a torrent of trouble in his life. Some intentional, a lot not.
But we were past all of that now. Somehow. I still wasn’t sure how we’d all made it through relatively unscathed.
I even had my beloved Zoe by my side again, and we’d spent months together this go-round with no bloodshed. Well, there had been that one broken dish, due to me shagging her on the kitchen table.
Some casualties of war were worth it.
“You’re in paradise, Magic. Why ever would you say that?”
“We’re in paradise with a heavily pregnant woman. An isolated paradise. Doesn’t that seem like a recipe for possible problems to you?”
I slung the bags over my shoulder and stepped toward Zoe, cupping her face with my free hand. I’d forever thank all the gods that she was a light traveler. “It seems as if you’ve become a worrier in your newly maternal state.”
She poked me in the chest. “Easy for you to be unconcerned. You men just drop and run.”
“I hardly dropped and ran. As I recall, I spent an entire evening on the process of impregnating you, and then returned to improve upon my work the next day and the day after that.” I kissed her on the nose.
“Yeah, and I’m never going to hear the end of it, as if you were the first man to ever become a father. I had something to do with it, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh, I’ve forgotten nothing. And in case I do, I have this trusty little video—” I started to reach for my mobile, letting out a laugh as she batted my hand away from my pocket.
“Are we finally going to tell everyone?” She yanked one of her camera cases off my shoulder before I could protest. “Ideally, before I start to show and people think I’ve indulged in far too much Christmas baking?”
“You’re barely along yet and besides, your peanut butter thumbprint cookies are to die for.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, buster.”
“Not even into the pouch of them you secreted in your camera bag?” I reached for it and she laughed.
“You see far too much.” Her laughter faded as a surprise gust of wind skittered some fallen branches and leaves across our feet. “What is the weather supposed to be like while we’re here anyway?”
“It’s a tropical island. Hot. Sunny. And I’ve heard there’s a nude beach.”
“You better hope there isn’t anyone with a long-range lens or else your dangly bits might end up on the cover of a magazine.”
“Surely I’d sell even more records. My dangly bits are a sight, are they not?”
She didn’t respond, since she’d dragged out her own phone and was flicking through screens. “Uh, did anyone check the weather report before we came here?”
