Devlin retreated.
For now.
He was beating his head against the wall, trying to convince Amy of his innocence in these imagined transgressions—the ones he’d never committed, or even wanted to.
Divorce would have been a hell of a lot easier if he wasn’t still in love with her.
* * *
THE FLIGHT FROM Chicago to Kauai, including a connection in L.A., took nine hours. And at least once every hour—if not more—Amy found she had to get up and move around the plane, at least for a little bit. She’d always been able to sit for hours on end, concentrating on whatever had captured her attention at the moment, but Amy found that she was currently exceedingly restless and needed to stretch her legs and walk around before she could sit down again.
Consequently, to cover up this new, strange need, she visited with everyone on the plane she knew. Everyone, except for the one person she’d known far longer and definitely more intimately than anyone else here.
She talked to Cara and Nick, the bride-and groom-to-be. She visited with the groom’s brother and even with Nick’s ex-wife, Megan. Ordinarily, an ex-wife wouldn’t have been included on the guest list for her ex-husband’s wedding. But both Megan and Nick had agreed that their two little girls should be in the wedding party, and not miss out on the festivities.
Nick and Megan’s divorce, Amy noted, had apparently been amicable, and they seemed to be, if not friends, at least friendly.
She couldn’t help wondering, as she returned back to her seat for the umpteenth time, if she and Devlin would wind up being friendly.
Probably not, she decided. She thought of Megan and wondered how Nick’s ex did it, how she looked so calm. Seeing Devlin with someone else, let alone seeing him exchange wedding vows with that person, would kill her.
Not that she had anything to worry about in that department. Once Devlin found out what she was keeping from him, most likely the hard feelings that would spring up would keep him from including her in anything that had to do with his life.
Amy lowered herself into her seat as if she was ninety instead of twenty-seven.
“Still searching for a way off the plane?” Devlin asked.
She stared at him, confused. “What are you talking about?
“Well, you’ve gone off on enough scouting parties in the past nine hours to make it look as if you were. Is something wrong?” he asked, growing serious. “I don’t remember you ever being so restless before.”
Best defense was a good offense. That was the only sports analogy she ever retained. She put it into play now. “With all those women throwing themselves at you, I’m surprised you remember me at all.”
Here we go again, Devlin thought wearily, struggling to hang on to his temper. He waved a hand at her. “Forget I said anything.”
“Like it never happened,” she answered, staring straight ahead.
The plane’s P.A. system crackled. “Ladies and gentlemen, please put your seat belts on. We’ll be landing in a few minutes. I’m happy to tell you it’s a balmy, clear eighty-three degrees—just another perfect day in paradise.”
The pilot went on cheerfully, but Amy tuned him out. She was too busy dealing with yet another overwhelming wave of nausea. When was this going to stop?
She was gripping the armrests again, Devlin noticed.
“You look pale,” he observed.
“Just trying to figure out what time it is,” she said, frowning as she looked down at her watch. “We’ve been in transit for nine hours, but there’s a time difference....”
Amused, he could afford to be patient with her, at least in this instance.
“You want me to tell you or do you want to struggle with the calculations?” he asked.
“I’ll get it,” she snapped. She pressed her lips together.
“You always do,” he told her. He wasn’t about to be pushy and he could afford to wait.
She shot him a dirty look that dissolved into frustration at the speed of light. “Okay, tell me,” she retorted. “What time is it?”
Time for you to come to your senses and realize that no one’s ever going to love you as much as I do, he thought.
Out loud, he said, “It’s 4:00 p.m.”
She muttered a grudging “Thank you,” as she reset her watch.
CHAPTER THREE
THE THREE AIRPORT shuttles and fleet of cabs that Cara had reserved for the wedding guests who weren’t renting cars were waiting to take them to the hotel when they deplaned.
“We’ll all meet in the lobby,” she announced, waving her friends and family to the shuttles and taxis that were parked at the curb.
“God, the Invasion of Normandy wasn’t this organized,” Amy noted as she got on the nearest shuttle.
“Well, Nick told me Cara wants everything to be memorable—and perfect—because this is going to be her only wedding,” Devlin said, boarding the blue-and-gold vehicle directly behind her.
Overhearing him, the guest who followed Devlin onto the shuttle muttered quietly, “Good luck with that.”
“Amen,” Amy murmured under her breath. The best-laid plans of mice and men—and women, as well, she couldn’t help thinking.
The expression on Devlin’s face when he sat down next to her indicated he’d heard her.
“Sometimes things do turn out well,” Devlin reminded her.
“Yeah, just look at you two,” Shane, Cara’s brother, pointed out with a grin as he made his way to the seats behind them. “You guys are going as strong as ever.”
“Just lucky, I guess,” Devlin answered. Making good use of the opportunity, he glanced at Amy for confirmation. “Right, honey?”
The smile on her lips was almost spasmodic. “Right,” she echoed.
“See?” Shane said, his point made.
Amy sank a little lower in her seat and stared out the window to her left.
The shuttle driver took a quick head count. It apparently tallied with the information he’d been given—Cara had divided the wedding guests so that each driver knew how many passengers he’d have on his vehicle.
With a satisfied nod of his bald head, their driver got behind the wheel and set out for the beachfront resort where they were all staying.
The scenery was every bit as gorgeous as she’d anticipated. The road, however, felt almost unnecessarily bumpy. Amy quickly became oblivious to the former as the latter commandeered all of her attention.
She found herself praying the entire trip to the hotel, fiercely telling herself that she was not going to throw up no matter what.
“Now you’re not just pale, you’re turning almost green,” Devlin commented, growing genuinely concerned. He tried to touch her forehead, but she pulled her head back. “Are you coming down with something?”
“I’m just bus sick,” she ground out, waving him away and fervently hoping that she wasn’t going to throw up on Devlin. She’d never hear the end of it, and he might insist on dragging her to some walk-in clinic. Her secret wouldn’t be long-lived if that happened.
“I’ve known you since our first year in college. Since when do you ever get motion sickness?” he wanted to know.
“Since now,” Amy bit off. Why was he harassing her this way? She was here, wasn’t she? Now why didn’t he just bug off and leave her alone?
Anything else Devlin might have wanted to discuss was placed on hold because she absolutely refused to part her lips until they arrived at the hotel.
The trip seemed to take forever.
In reality, for the wedding guests who weren’t battling nausea, traffic was light and it took all of fifteen minutes to get from the airport to the hotel.
When the shuttle finally came to a stop, Amy thought she was going to weep with relief.
Getting o
ff, she discovered she’d stood up too fast, and her legs felt wobbly. Amy stumbled down the shuttle’s four steps.
Devlin turned when he heard her suck in air and was just in time to catch Amy with ease, his muscular arms closing around her. Holding her safe.
At least, that was the way he saw it. Amy viewed the whole thing differently.
“Well, this is a surprise,” he commented, looking down into her flushed face. “Are you throwing yourself at me?” he teased.
“Not hardly.” Amy scowled, embarrassed and also wondering how much longer she could keep her queasy stomach in check. She needed to get completely upright before she wound up rewarding her soon-to-be ex with a gift he definitely wouldn’t want. “You can let me go now,” she prompted.
His eyes met hers. “Not sure I want to.”
Her eyes flashed just like they had in the beginning of their marriage. “Trust me,” she told him, “you want to.”
There was something about the way she said it as well as the expression on her face that had Devlin releasing her and making sure the ground beneath her feet was flat—and steady.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he answered with an amicable grin.
Inside the hotel, Amy queued up at the front desk only to have Cara cheerfully breeze by with a general announcement for her wedding guests as she handed out keycards.
“You don’t have to wait in line. I’ve already checked you all in,” she said. She apparently enjoyed being everywhere at once and multitasking as she went. “Your cabana’s next to ours,” she said, handing both her and Devlin the corresponding keycards. “Why don’t you two take a couple hours to unpack and check out the beach. Nick and some of the guys are having a surfing lesson before dinner, too, if you’re interested. We’re meeting at the hotel restaurant around eight to go over the agenda,” she said, raising her voice so she could be heard by all the wedding guests.
“Agenda?” Amy repeated, confused. She’d thought the only structured event was going to be the wedding itself.
“Yes, the agenda for the next couple of days so that everyone knows where they’re supposed to be and what they’re supposed to be doing. We’ll eat dinner, too, of course.” Cara flashed a wide smile, the eternal happy and nervous bride-to-be. “I can’t believe this is finally happening,” she all but squealed, then looked up at Nick. “Nick and I are about to start our life together—officially.” She underscored her words with a loud, contented sigh.
Since Cara’s thousand-watt smile seemed to be aimed in her direction, Amy did her best to return the smile before Cara moved on to another couple.
She’d been like that once, Amy couldn’t help thinking. Happy, hopeful and wildly, wildly in love.
Now that period of her life seemed like a distant memory.
Except, of course, for the one tangible piece of proof of that love, courtesy of their one last attempt at reconciliation.
Initially, she’d agreed to have him back to the house so they could talk things out over dinner, she remembered ruefully.
But wine and candles had been involved, as well as vulnerable feelings, and one thing somehow led to another.
Morning came, and with it clarity—and her old insecurities, when Devlin’s phone rang and she saw that the call was from Bonnie. He’d sworn he didn’t know how the neighbor had gotten his number. She’d filed for divorce that day. When she’d found out she was pregnant a few weeks later, that revelation hadn’t changed anything and she hadn’t wanted to tell him until the divorce was final.
Amy glanced down at the keycard. The name of their cabana, Blue Paradise, was embossed on it.
The same as on the keycard that Devlin was holding in his hand.
“We’re sharing the cabana,” she said, the reality slowly sinking in. She had no idea why that should come as a surprise to her. After all, in the eyes of their friends, they were still very much married, and married people shared the same room.
And the same bed.
The latter piece of information became glaringly evident as she walked into their assigned cabana—which was a single, large room with a full bath attached to it.
The queen bed seemed to grow in size as she stared at it until it all but took over the room.
“This,” she said with finality, staring at the bed, “is going to be a problem.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Devlin sounded annoyingly cheerful.
Her eyes narrowed as she turned to look at him. “You’re right. Thanks for volunteering.”
Since she could only be referring to sharing the bed, he pointed out one obvious fact. “We’re both adults here, Amy.”
“Hence the problem,” she insisted.
He laughed, thoroughly enjoying watching her squirm. “Only if you can’t keep your hands off me.”
She didn’t like him having fun at her expense. “I might be the only woman on this island who can,” she retorted.
He was not about to get sucked into that argument. Instead, he decided it was best to turn his attention to unpacking. For once, he thought, Amy took the hint and fell silent as she put her things away.
Silence became the third occupant in the room. It grew by the minute, seeming to suck up all the oxygen around them.
Devlin had to put an end to this. “Amy—”
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Hey, you two, no dawdling. We’re all meeting at the restaurant in fifteen minutes so if you’re fooling around in there, make it quick,” Nick called through the door. His words were followed by a hearty laugh.
There went her stomach again. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold out. “You go on ahead,” she said, waving Devlin off. “I just need to freshen up.”
How long could that take? In his opinion, she was gorgeous just as she was. Not that she ever thought that herself, which was, he knew, the root of all their trouble. If she could have believed she was beautiful, that he wanted nobody but her, surely she would never have succumbed to her extreme jealousy toward other women.
“I can wait,” he told her.
She misinterpreted him. “You don’t trust me?”
Were they doomed to a life of eternal sparring? There was no way he was going to be pulled into an argument. “Let’s just say I missed being around you and I’m making up for lost time.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Oh, puh-lease.”
“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it,” he informed her.
Especially since it’s true, he added silently. Most of the time.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE WAS GOING to throw up at any second and she really didn’t want Devlin around to hear it. She just knew he’d start asking her all sorts of questions and it wouldn’t take him long to put two and two together. The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to tell her they needed to stay together for the baby’s sake.
If he was going to stay, determined to make a go of their marriage, she wanted it to be because he loved her. But that boat had obviously sailed. And she’d had a hand in pushing it out of the harbor, she thought ruefully, her emotions spiking again.
“Go. Now. Please. I’ll catch up—I promise,” she said between gritted teeth. She didn’t know how much longer she was going to hold out.
“Okay, fine. But Nick and Cara are expecting to see us as a couple—a loving couple, not a couple of bantam roosters going at each other.”
“Right. Couple. Loving,” Amy agreed.
Placing both her hands to his back, she pushed him out the door.
The second it was closed and he was gone, she made a dash for the bathroom. She had just enough time to drop to her knees in front of the toilet bowl before she began heaving. Amy closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to pull herself together.
It was gett
ing worse, not better. Morning sickness she could put up with. But this was turning out to be “all-day sickness” and she had absolutely no way of predicting when it was going to strike next. One minute she’d be fine, the next she felt like she’d been spun around like a top.
Maybe if she just didn’t eat anything, Amy thought, making her way out of the bathroom, she wouldn’t have these repeat bouts of nausea. Otherwise, she was fairly certain she wasn’t going to be able to hide this from Devlin for the three days they were together.
Amy changed into something a little more suited to the weather on the island, and popped a few mints into her mouth—fervently praying they wouldn’t lead to another round of nausea—and went to meet the others at the open-air restaurant that looked out onto the beach.
Just as with the flight, Amy was the last of the guests to arrive. Everyone else was already seated.
Glancing around for Devlin, she spotted the dark-haired girl hovering over him first. Whatever he had just said to her had her laughing.
Nothing ever changes, Amy thought angrily. Women were still throwing themselves at Devlin, and now that they were headed for a divorce, he was going to be catching them.
And whose fault is that? a little voice in her head asked.
Amy pivoted on her heel, made a ninety-degree turn and started back to the cabana. She really didn’t feel like watching Devlin in action.
She’d hardly taken two strides toward her destination before she felt someone behind her grabbing her arm. She found herself being pulled around and staring up into the face of an exasperated Devlin.
“Where are you going?” If he hadn’t looked up just then, he wouldn’t have seen Amy storming away. Now what was wrong?
“Back to the cabana—to pack,” she ground out.
She wasn’t making any sense. “Are you out of your mind?” he demanded. “Pack? You just got here. You’re supposed to be unpacking.” It took everything he had not to shout at her. Nobody could get him angrier faster than Amy.
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