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She laced her fingers with his. “Sway with me, then.”
He briefly lifted his gaze over her shoulder, saying almost to himself, “This would give me a chance to use my waterproof leg. I haven’t gotten an opportunity yet.” Then he quirked his lips to the side as he stared at her, a little bewildered. “What do I need to do? That’s pretty last minute.”
“All you need is a passport. Chris rented out all these suites at the resort.” At Mike’s eyebrow raise, Sam shrugged. “He’s rich. What can I say? My best friend can do stuff like that now.”
“What about a plane ticket?”
She grabbed her cell phone and pulled up theFour Chicks and Two Dickstext thread, messaging,Mike is coming to the wedding.
Bronte replied almost immediately with lots of exclamation points. Sam held her phone so he could see it as she typed,He’s worried it’s too late.
Beside her, he said, “I don’t want to be a wedding crasher,” and she typed that up too. Then everyone else sent a variety of GIFs, emojis, and texts.
“Why do you have the girls’ names listed but not the guys’? Who is ‘Boy Scout’?”
“That’s Jason, Gem’s husband.”
“Oh.” He scratched at his beard. “And ‘Plane Guy’ is…?”
“Chris. He and Bronte met on a plane.”
His brow crimped together. “So why don’t you use…”
She laughed at his confusion, like a math problem that didn’t make sense.
“What do you call me?” he asked.
“‘The Marine,’ obviously.”
“Do the girls call me that too?”
She loved that he called her friends “the girls” like they were old friends, and she was happy that he would meet them in real life. “Yeah, they do. When we first start talking to a guy or something, we almost never use their real names. We talk about them by their descriptors, like ‘What’s going on with Plane Guy?’”
He nodded, although he clearly didn’t get it. Then she kissed his cheek. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
24
Samantha wasn’t kidding when she said Chris would take care of everything. She explained that Chris didn’t speak to his family anymore, so it was really important to him to have Bronte’s family and friends there. He immediately got a plane ticket for Mike and even upgraded him and Sam to first class. When Mike asked her about paying Chris back, she waved him off with, “I’ve tried. He won’t take anything. You’ll understand when you meet him.”
Not that Mike currently had any money to pay the guy back with anyway, so he endeavored to tamp down his pride and enjoy the ride. After a couple of connections through San Juan and then Tortola, he and Sam finally passed through customs and stepped right onto a private water taxi that took them to Peter Island.
As they approached the private island, Sam linked her hand with Mike’s. “I’m glad you’re here with me. I would’ve been doing all of this by myself,” she said, leaning into his side. “The seventh wheel.”
He brushed back pieces of her hair that had been kicked up in the wind and kissed the top of her head, noting the shadow of insecurity in her voice. Sam was always so confident; it felt like a privilege to be able to witness the parts of herself she hid from the rest of the world. “Thanks for bringing me. Five days on a private island. Who’d say no?”
The closer the boat got them to the lush greenery of the island, the more Sam buzzed with energy, and by the time the captain docked, she practically flew up the gangplank, running toward the welcome center.
Mike reached for their bags, but a bellhop stopped him, so he followed Sam inside, where they were introduced to the concierge, who led them down to their beachfront suite. A bottle of champagne and a fruit platter awaited them, courtesy of the future Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham.
Sam helped herself, popping a piece of mango into her mouth while Mike uncorked the champagne. As he poured them each a glass, she opened the French doors to reveal a small patio off the bedroom, leading to a large grassy area with palm trees and hammocks, and the sandy beach beyond that. With champagne in hand, they explored the suite, from the huge Jacuzzi tub to the king-sized bed to the two-person shower.
“That’s handy,” she said, pointing to the bench in the shower. As if he needed a demonstration, she stepped inside, perched herself on the bench and crossed her legs. “Quite comfy.”
“Yeah?”
She raised one eyebrow as she sipped her champagne, and all his blood headed south.
“You want to try it out right now?” he asked after he found his voice again.
