by Meghan March
I hold the champagne flute in nerveless fingers, wondering how Dane is going to reply. He turns in his seat and raises his glass to where it almost touches mine.
“We’ve got ten days to figure out if there’s still an us. I love you, Kat, but that doesn’t mean jack shit if we aren’t both willing to fight for this. You tell me on the flight home whether you’re in or you’re out. Deal?”
His ultimatum is no-nonsense, the most Dane way he could handle it.
I swallow as my stomach flips and knots. “Deal,” I whisper.
Dane clinks the rim of his glass against mine.
Chapter 3
Dane
Kat’s hand shakes as she pulls out her phone. One more check before they close the door and finally make her switch the damn thing to airplane mode. It’s an extension of her, and I spend more time staring at the top of her head than I do her face because she’s always buried in work. Even when she’s with me, she’s not present.
“Shit.” The curse comes from between her lips as a whisper.
“What?”
When she raises her fingers to squeeze the bridge of her nose, the reluctance to explain is all over her face. With her other hand, she turns the screen of the phone toward me.
“It’s been in airplane mode since my flight this morning. That’s why I didn’t get any texts.”
I don’t even know what to say to that, and instead give her a nod and toss back the rest of my champagne. It could be the last time we toast an anniversary, so I may as well enjoy it.
As soon as she flips the setting, the phone buzzes in her hand, no doubt signaling my messages. With an apologetic smile, she pulls up her e-mail and her thumbs fly.
I swear, the world could be burning down, but Kat would still find a way to ignore it and be productive. I used to be proud of her insane work ethic, but frustration edges out the pride now because it’s part of the way she’s shut me out.
Some people find their escape in a bottle, my wife escapes into her company.
Just one more thing to add to the long list of reasons why our marriage is fucked. I’m sure a shrink would say I’m projecting.
What about all your secrets?
It’s not like I haven’t tried to tell her.
She’s still tapping away even after the announcement comes that the boarding door is closed. The flight attendant pauses, one hand on the back of my seat, disapproval pinching her lips.
“Ma’am, you’ll need to switch your device into airplane mode now.”
“One second. I just need to send—” She cuts off her words in favor of finishing typing.
The flight attendant waits a few beats, as though she’s heard this a dozen times. God knows I have.
Kat drops the phone into her lap and holds her hands in the air. “See. Done. Off.”
The flight attendant meets my gaze. “You’ve got your work cut out for you getting this one to relax on vacation, I bet.”
“You have no idea,” I tell her.
Forty minutes later, we’re somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico. I want to reach over and lay my hand on Kat’s fidgeting fingers to get her to chill, but I don’t. She may be my wife, but right now that label feels hollow.
I choose a new playlist, one more suited to a punishing workout than a first-class flight to paradise.
In my peripheral vision, Kat adjusts her earbud and reaches for her coffee spiked with Baileys. It’s her second, and I wonder if now that her stimulant of choice—work—is gone, she’ll find something to fill the void rather than deal with the ultimatum I’ve thrown down.
I won’t take it back.
If it’s the only way I can break down the wall between us, I’ll do it. This week is hell for me too, even though she doesn’t have a clue why.
You have to tell her.
Right, like it would be so easy to explain why I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. Twice. That’ll go over great.
Kat might have built the wall, but I handed her the bricks.
Any man who says the right woman will fuck your world upside down knows exactly what he’s talking about. You’re perfectly happy living the single life, but then you meet a woman who blows in like a goddamned tornado. No warning, and suddenly your life is unrecognizable.
That was Kat. She wasn’t part of the plan. She changed everything I thought I had figured out, and what’s more, she didn’t even realize she was doing it.
Before it all crumbled, I would have told you it was the best fucking thing that ever happened to me. Now she’s avoiding eye contact from the seat next to me like she would with a stranger.
In the beginning, I never would have been able to picture things coming to this.
* * *
Two and a half years ago
Waiting around wasn’t my thing. Getting shit done and moving on—that was what I was best at. Someone else would have been the better choice for this job, but I’d drawn the short straw. It was a strange group when you had to fight over who would have to sit at the all-inclusive resort for a few days.
My annoyance with the task faded when I heard the unsure stammer of a woman declaring she was going to ride me until I needed a new saddle.
That was a new one. I dig her originality. She’d definitely caught my attention.
Asking her to dinner wasn’t part of my initial plan, but I’d gone with it. Now she was sitting across from me in this restaurant wearing a tiny excuse for a teal sundress I’d rather see on my cabana floor.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
I’d pegged her for a one-night stand, a distraction, but with every word that came out of her sexy-as-hell mouth, I was drawn in.
“Basically it’s like jumping off a cliff with no net, but I have faith that I’m going to fly rather than crash.”
Something I’d actually done before . . . although not the way Kat meant.
“So you walked away from your job at a big consulting company to take a chance on yourself.”
I could respect that. I’d left behind a steady paycheck for nothing but the hope of a bigger reward. It was a scary thing for most people, but Kat was brimming with excitement.
“Exactly. If I don’t believe I’m worth taking a chance on, then why should anyone else? Besides, life is too short not to take risks. There’s no time like the present.” She lifted the mojito to her lips and took a sip.
There was something she wasn’t saying, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to get it out of her. Or maybe I was reading more into the conversation than I should have been.
“But first, vacation?”
Kat lowered the drink to the table. “Benjie bullied me. I finally said yes, because . . . well . . . it’s going to be a while before I get to take a week off again.”
Definitely something she wasn’t saying, but the server interrupted.
“Sir, someone left a message for you at the hostess stand.”
She dropped the folded slip of paper onto the table and I picked it up, scanning the words before tucking it in the pocket of my shorts.
“Could we get the dessert menu? I think my companion would like something sweet.”
“Of course. One moment.”
When the server walked away, Kat’s forehead creased. “Do people leave a lot of messages for you at hostess stands?”
“Not often, but it happens.”
Her blue gaze darted over my shoulder. “The cougar behind you has been eyeballing you like she’d rather have you for dinner. I’ve got a twenty that says it’s from her.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at her tone. Half jealous, half mocking. I reached for my wallet and pulled out a twenty, then tossed it on the table.
“Seriously?” Her eyes lit up. “That’s bold. I couldn’t imagine doing something like that.”
“I could. Maybe not hit on a guy at dinner with another woman, but you did claim me with your friend on the beach.”
Kat covered her face with both hands as her cheeks turned pink. She was just the sweet side of tip
sy, and it was fucking adorable.
“I can’t believe you heard that. Be kind. Lie to me if you have to and tell me you really didn’t.”
Add another lie to the tally? I don’t think so.
“I didn’t say I had a problem with it.”
“I guess that’s a good thing.” She lowered her hands to the table. “Because then you’d really be shocked when I told you that I wasn’t joking.”
I reached out and took her smaller hand in mine. “I’d be disappointed if you were.”
Chapter 4
Kat
Present day
When the captain announces we’re making our descent, I breathe a sigh of relief. This flight is several hours shorter than when I came home from London last week, but with the clock ticking down on what could be the end of my marriage, it felt eons longer.
It’s all my fault. I know it.
Dane has barely looked at me, choosing to tip his baseball cap down over his face and sleep for most of the flight. Normally I’d be comforted by his familiar ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime, but now it feels like a cold slap to the face.
I’m panicking and sucking down coffee and Baileys, and he’s as calm as ever.
Because he’s already done?
No. He gave me an ultimatum, and he always keeps to his word. Benjie might have lied to me, but Dane never has.
The plane jerks as the tires connect with the tarmac, and Dane finally lifts his hat from where it hid his face and resettles it on his head.
His gaze lands on me immediately. Well, not me exactly, but the phone in my hand. My thumb is itching to take it out of airplane mode so I can check my work e-mails and messages.
They have it under control, I tell myself. My very capable team has been prepped for my ten-day vacation, and I know they can handle everything just as well as I would.
That knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to let go, though.
I talk myself out of turning on my phone and instead pull my purse out from under the seat and shove my phone inside.
Dane’s eyebrows go up, no doubt with shock.
Maybe if I can still surprise him, we’ve got a shot.
When the flight attendants open the door, a wave of heat and humidity sweeps into the plane.
Welcome to Belize.
It seems like as good a place as any for starting over. All of the important milestones of our relationship have happened in tropical locations, so I’ll take it as a good omen.
* * *
Two and a half years ago
Benjie was in love. Apparently the bartender he’d met for drinks was the one, and they’d spent every free moment together.
If it were any other trip, I’d be ready to strangle him, but secretly, I was thankful for the excuse to spend more time with Dane.
Dane.
He was so unlike any of the guys I’d met for drinks or a quick dinner since graduating from business school, and definitely not like any of the guys I dated in college.
He was all man. It wasn’t just the tattoos and muscles, it was the way he didn’t fill every lapse in the conversation with stories about himself and things that should impress me. For some reason, that impressed me even more.
Wind whipped off the water and flung my hair into my face as we walked down a chair-lined aisle out to a covered pier. You might think it would be awkward to walk down an aisle next to your vacation fling, but not so much with him.
The companionable silence between us broke when Dane turned away from the water to face me. “I have to leave in the morning.”
I heard the reluctance, but also the finality of it.
“What?” I searched his brown eyes like they were going to give me an explanation. “I thought you said—”
He shook his head. “I know what I said. But plans changed. I got called in to work.”
“That sucks.”
Dane lifted a hand to cup my cheek, and we faced each other in the same spot where a bride and groom would probably stand tonight and say their vows as the sun sank into the ocean. “I want to see you again, Kat. Tell me you want to see me too.”
I swallowed, surprised he wanted to take what I’d convinced myself was a fling beyond the confines of the vacation.
“Say yes,” he said. “Don’t make me kidnap you the next time I want to see you.”
Thoughts and ideas streaked through my brain like pinballs going wild in an arcade game. This was the worst time in the world for me to start a new relationship . . .
Dane noticed my hesitation. “You’re driven. Ambitious. I am too. We only get one ride, Kat, and I think you’re meant to be part of mine. Say yes, and I promise you won’t regret it.”
We only get one ride. Those words could have been tattooed on my heart for how much I agreed with the concept.
Life is short. Take risks. There are no guarantees. You might not get another chance.
Those lessons were hammered home hard with my mom. One day you think everything is fine and the next, you’re handed a horrible death sentence.
All it took was a tremor through my hand for me to give an answer. I squeezed my fingers into a fist and released them.
“Yes.”
When he led me back down the aisle, wedding guests were beginning to filter in.
Maybe, just maybe, someday we’ll be walking down an aisle like this for a completely different reason.
Nah, that’s just crazy. Right?
* * *
Present day
Dane strides alongside me, his duffel bag on his shoulder. I pull my carry-on behind me as we follow a yellow-painted line on the sidewalk into the airport that will undoubtedly lead to Immigration and Customs.
When I met him on weekends in romantic tropical locations while we were dating, I’d be giddy with excitement at this point. But today is completely different. He still hasn’t spoken to me, and the silence has reached a level beyond painful.
I want to say something. Anything.
I’ve always loved Dane because he let me be me, concentrating on his own business, and then we found our common ground in the middle when we were both able to steal time.
That lasted for a year after we said I do.
How did I let it get so bad? Why didn’t I do something to stop it?
When the couples ahead of us stop in view of the immigration-officer booths, I find the voice I seemed to have lost on the flight.
“I didn’t know what destination address to put on the immigration form.”
He glances down at me, his dark eyes searching my face. “You could’ve asked.”
“You were sleeping. I didn’t want to bother you,” I say, but what I really mean is I didn’t want to poke the sleeping bear.
“Give me your form.”
I fish it out of my purse and hand it over with a pen.
He says nothing, just scribbles an address in the spaces I left blank, and hands it back to me. The line inches forward, and I can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversations happening all around us.
“So, first snorkeling, and then cave-tubing, and then we’re going to do the zip-line. Don’t worry, I’ve got it all planned.” This comes from the perfectly pink lips of a perky young brunette with Bride printed on her shirt in gold script.
Honeymooners. How sweet.
Her new husband smiles at her indulgently, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “What makes you think I’m going to let you out of our room?”
She giggles, and something that might be cute any other day sounds like nails on a chalkboard today.
Because I don’t have that anymore.
“You coming?”
Dane tosses the question over his shoulder as he waits for me at the front of the line. I close the gap between us and follow him to the next available immigration booth.
I hand him my passport and arrival document, and he slides them through the hole in the Plexiglas window. The immigration officer picks mine up first, glances from the picture to me, and th
en back at the passport.
“You stole my name.” The man’s accented English, the noise from the excited travelers in line, and the barrier between us all work together to make it hard to hear him.
Dane stiffens.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“You stole my name.”
I’ve been through immigration in over a dozen countries, but it’s the first time someone’s said something like that to me. Then I take in the nametag on his shirt. CROSS.
Oh. “So you’re Mr. Cross too?”
“I could be your Mr. Cross,” he says, his eyebrows lifting suggestively.
“I’m pretty sure this one still wants me.” I force a laugh to cover the uncertainty of my statement.
When Dane doesn’t comment or even throw an arm around me, the tiny shreds of hope I’m holding on to fade away.
The immigration officer grabs his stamp and brings it down hard on my passport like a judge with a gavel.
The verdict? Ten days isn’t enough time to fix this.
“You can always stay in Belize with me if he changes his mind.” He winks, and Dane still says nothing.
The fact that I’m fighting tears in the immigration line is ridiculous, but that doesn’t make it not true.
The officer swipes and stamps Dane’s passport, but doesn’t give them back. Instead, he glances down at our arrival documents.
“Where are you going?”
I can’t answer the question because I have no clue. I should have read the paper before stuffing it in my passport.
“Sweet Water Caye,” Dane replies for us both.
The immigration officer’s eyebrows go up. “That’s a small place. Not too busy right now with low season. Pretty, though. Isolated.”
“That’s exactly what we need.” Dane finally wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me against his side. “No distractions.”
I want to cheer at the gesture of possession and believe he means that he wants me all to himself, but I’m afraid it’s a jab at my constantly working.
The officer nods. “I can see the appeal. Enjoy Belize.”
He slides our passports through the opening in the glass, and Dane drops his arm to retrieve them just as quickly.
