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Why stop now?
“Favorite book,” I asked.
He looked at me with a raised brow. “Really? That’s your question?”
I shoved my shoulder into him, making him laugh.
“Yes! That’s a perfectly great question.”
He chuckled. “Agreed. Okay. Um … I think it would have to be The Outsiders.”
I smiled because I loved that book as well. It was also a favorite of my father’s and knowing Wyatt had a similar taste in books was promising. “Good choice. Your turn.”
It was nice having an intelligent conversation with another human being. The only person I could ever talk to was my father. He was the sweetest man in the world—although Wyatt was a close second—and he understood me.
All those quiet evenings when Allison went out partying, I would stay up late reading with him in his study. It always seemed to make him smile and relax when I read to him from his favorite books. John Grisham. Ernest Hemingway. F. Scott Fitzgerald. He was a lover of the classics, and I knew I could confide in my father about my troubles and doubts.
But this?
What would he think if he knew it was me on this beautiful island with Wyatt and not Allison?
Would he be disappointed?
Angry?
Disgusted with me for deceiving not only Wyatt but also our families?
I would be devastated if my father thought less of me. He was my rock, and even though he was the delicate one at the moment, he was stronger than I could ever dream of being.
I swallowed, the guilt I hadn’t felt in a while working its way back into my chest. Quickly, I pushed it out of my brain and focused my attention on Wyatt. He tapped his chin like he was thinking of a really good question.
“Okay, I have one. Do you have a nickname?”
“Nope. Although I loved it when you called me Angel.”
Anything was better than having him call me Allison, but I couldn’t tell him that.
He looked at me with confusion and tilted his head to the side. It was adorable. “When did I call you Angel?”
I grinned, thinking of the sounds he had made when I tasted him the night before.
He looked at my expression, a smirk forming on his face. “Oh, yeah. Now I remember.” He leaned in and kissed me sweetly. “Then Angel it is.”
The rest of our honeymoon was just as wonderful. We rode jet skis and tried our hand at stand-up paddling, which I found I was pretty good at. Wyatt, on the other hand, had no sense of balance whatsoever. It was hilarious.
We took several tours around the island—one by Jeep and one by helicopter. And on our final night, we sat outside our bungalow and watched the sunset.
I was sad to leave, but I knew it had to happen.
What would life be like when we got home?
Were Allison and I just going to continue to live each other’s life?
That wasn’t possible. We each had our own lives—our own friends—and different things we enjoyed doing. I worked at the local library three days a week and had a massive to-be-read pile of books next to my bed. Sure, I would give all of that up for Wyatt, but was Allison willing to give up everything for nothing?
“I need to tell you something,” Wyatt said, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to the moment at hand.
I turned toward him, the lingering light from the sun giving his skin a bronze glow.
