by J. A. Huss
“I’m not the one who’s worried,” I say.
Five says nothing to that. Just walks away, heading in the opposite direction from the one the girls went.
Our bungalow isn’t too far, and the journey to it goes by too fast. There’s so much to see here. I’ve been on private islands before, but this feels like a private country.
I wheel our luggage into the room and collapse into the chair, looking for the TV.
No fucking TV. Are you kidding me? These people are really cut off from the world.
I get what he’s saying. And I get why he’s scared. But they won. They’re still here. And the way I see it, if people really want to find you, they find you. There’s no way to really hide in this world anymore. I mean, you can try to stay secluded out here in the middle of the ocean. But eventually a satellite passes over or a boat goes by. Someone gets curious. It’s an exercise in futility.
Ellie comes through the door with a sigh. She’s sweating from the heat—even though it’s October, this is the Caribbean, after all—and pulls her wide-brimmed hat off her head, tossing it towards the coffee table. It floats past and lands on the floor, so I pick it up as she collapses next to me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Because something is definitely wrong. She’s been acting weird all week.
“Nothing,” she says, kicking her feet up.
I gently grab her legs and pull them into my lap, slipping her shoes off in the process. When my fingers begin their little dance across the high arch of her foot, she relaxes and shoots me a smile. “That feels nice,” she says.
“Everything we do this weekend will feel nice, Mrs. Perfect.”
She smiles at the name. Even though it comes with all kinds of baggage. “I’m excited about that part,” she says.
“What part aren’t you excited about?” I ask. “You’re not worried about the Silver Society coming back, are you?”
“No,” she says. And I’m relieved. Because if she was, I’d have to pay more attention to that kind of thing. But Ellie is an eternal optimist. She’s always been upbeat and positive. Even when she left me to find her own way in the world, she did it with the attitude of a fighter. Someone who wants to play and win. Someone who sees everything as an opportunity.
But she’s worried about something and I just can’t figure it out. “Then what?” I say. “Because this is your wedding, Eloise.”
The sound of her full name has her cracking another smile.
“It’s gonna be the best day of your life.”
With that declaration she pouts.
“What?” I ask.
She looks at me, every semblance of a smile gone. “It’s not.”
“Why?”
“Because the best day of my life is yet to come and sometimes, Mac, I think that day will never come. That it’ll never happen.”
“Oh,” I say, finally getting it. I slide my hand up her leg and squeeze her knee. “Babe, it’s only been a few months. We’ll get there.”
“You don’t know that. We should go see doctors.”
I shake my head at her.
“Why?” she demands.
“Because it’s premature, Ellie. We’ve only been trying for a baby since January. It’s not fair—”
“It’s October, Mac,” she says, her tone firm and stern.
“Right. Exactly my point. Ten months is not a problem.”
“I think it is,” she says, pursing her lips. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”
“Babe,” I say, pulling her into my lap. “There’s nothing wrong with you. We’re just getting started. And you’re probably just stressed about the wedding and stuff. I mean, it’s not exactly the best time to get pregnant, right?”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing. It’s just… stressful. And stress…” I shrug. “It does shit to people. Just wait until all this is over and we’re back home, all settled in. It’ll happen.”
“But what if it doesn’t, Mac? What if we never get pregnant?”
“Stop,” I say. “We’re not talking about it right now. This weekend is just about us. Pretty soon we’re gonna be parents and then we’ll have to wait eighteen years to get this kind of peace again.” She makes a face, intent on continuing the argument, but I beat her to it. “You know what we’re gonna do?” I say, moving her legs off me so I can stand.
“What?” she asks, her head tilting up to watch me.
God, she’s so pretty.
“We’re gonna go swim. We’re the first ones here and Five told me last week they have a whole other island that we can visit if we want time alone. So that’s what we’re gonna do. When Nolan and Ivy get here with Bronte”—shit, that just made her frown again. Note to self, don’t talk about Nolan’s new baby—“well, we won’t have another moment to swim naked.”
Ellie laughs. “We’re not swimming naked.”
“The fuck we’re not!” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. “We’re gonna go find that beach, take all our clothes off, and then I’m gonna fuck you senseless.”
I get a real smile at that comment. So I keep going.
“Mrs. Perfect,” I say, pulling her close so I can press my lips up to her ear. “I’m gonna make you forget about everything but me this weekend. You watch.”
“I don’t think you can, Mac—”
But my hand is already slipping up her dress. “This is how it’s done, right? This is the whole point of sex. To put babies inside you.”
“Stop it.” She laughs.
But I got a laugh and a smile. So more dirty talk is coming. “I’m gonna rip your clothes off on that private beach this afternoon, Ellie. And I’m gonna stare at your body. I’m hungry for it. I’m hungry for you in a way I’ve never felt before. I’m gonna touch you everywhere,” I say, my hand sliding between her legs, my fingers already stroking her softly. “And make you forget about everything but us.”
I kiss her soft, pliant mouth. Her lips respond, then her hands. She wraps her fingers around my biceps and squeezes, like she never wants to let me go.
“Are you ready?” I ask. “Are you ready for the best day of your life on Sunday? The day I say you’re mine and you say I’m yours. And we say it together, in front of everyone who counts. And there’s no taking it back, Mrs. Perfect. Because what we have is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, babe. And we know that. We appreciate that. And no matter what happens—babies or not,” I say, pulling back from our kiss so I can tilt her chin up with my fingertips and make her—force her to—look me in the eyes for the next part, “no matter what happens, we’re gonna be happy because we’re gonna be together.”
“I know,” she says, trying to drop her head and stop my intense stare.
But I don’t let her. I keep her right where I put her. In my sight. In my arms. “There’s no buts. Not anymore. We’re together. And if there’s no baby, then we’ll go adopt every kid we can find and fill that house up with little people who need us just as much as we need them.”
She nods and pulls away. I let her, because she’s aiming her cheek for my chest. So I give her what she needs more than my hand stroking her pussy. I give her a hug.
“Tori and West adopted.”
“Right,” I say. “And see how happy they are? They don’t need a biological kid to feel complete and neither do we. We’ll do whatever it takes to grow our family, Ellie. But right now, let’s just be happy together.”
She looks up at me, her eyes welling up with tears. “OK,” she says, giving in.
“But in the meantime let’s keep trying.”
She laughs.
“Because I really am gonna take you to that beach and fuck you senseless before Mr. fucking Romantic gets here, bringing all his drama with him.”
I take her hand, lead her out of the bungalow, and we find our way into the jungle. We go forward on faith. Faith that everything is perfect. Everything will be fine. And all we need is each other.
Chapter Three - NOL
AN
“Isn’t this exciting, Bronte?” Ivy is cuddling our baby close to her breast as we all look up at the helicopter approaching.
Bronte looks scared if you ask me. It’s her first ride. And to be honest, I’m not sure I like the helicopter idea. “Maybe we should just charter a boat?” I say.
Ivy shoots me a weird look. She doesn’t even bother answering because I’ve offered up this alternative several times and she thinks I’m being ridiculous.
Bronte’s mouth opens wide as the helicopter touches down. Her wild blonde hair is flying in the wind because I was in charge of dressing her this morning and I don’t know the first thing about taming baby hair for a helicopter ride. I’m just about to point to her and say, “See! She’s afraid of it.” But her delighted squeal has me shutting up.
It figures.
We had to buy special baby headphones for the ride because the noise level is too much for a six-month-old. I got black ones. With little skulls on them. And while I was at it, I bought her a little flight jacket to match. It has the most badass patches on it.
Ivy looked at her this morning. Looked at me. Back at her. Then said, “She looks like she’s starring in the baby version of Top Gun, Nolan.”
“Yeah,” I said, pretty fucking pleased with myself. “So fucking cool, right?”
Then I got another one of those looks for swearing.
Girls. I don’t shake my head as the helicopter door slides open and we walk forward. But I want to.
It’s not that I wanted a boy. It just never occurred to me that we’d have a girl. And I do realize—after the fact—that it wasn’t rational. In fact, it was kinda stupid. It’s just… I don’t really know what to do with a little girl. It seems everything in that department belongs to Ivy. She does her hair. She paints her toenails with special baby polish. She buys her dresses and makes her look pretty. She even decorated her room.
I wanted green, man. Celtics green because that’s my team. I was even gonna settle for green and white instead of green and black.
But nope. Her room is pink and gray.
I do admit, it was a better option. But Celtics green was a good idea too.
I feel out of my element here. And it’s only gonna get worse, right? Baby Bronte will grow up to be pre-teen Bronte. She’ll fall in love with some jerk in a boy band and plaster that dumbass’s face all over her wall. Ivy will take her to stupid boy-band concerts and shit. Then she’ll fall in love with a real guy and I’ll be the asshole dad meeting her date at the door with a shotgun.
And Ivy is already talking about baby dance classes when she’s three.
I think she’d dig tee-ball way more than stupid ballet, but what do I know?
I just don’t see how I can win at this daughter stuff.
And I know Ivy’s not ready for another one yet, but I’m totally into trying for number two like right the fuck now.
We get settled into the ’copter and Bronte is fascinated by everything.
Wrong again, Nolan. She loves it.
Ivy chats with the pilot for the whole twenty-minute ride. I think about the wedding. Then I remember Pastor Rockwell, Ivy’s father, who kinda hates my guts and is gonna be here tomorrow night when all the parents and family show up.
I get it. I took his daughter away. I eloped with her, robbed him and Mrs. Rockwell of a wedding, and then showed up on his doorstep with my newly pregnant wife. He definitely hates me. But it’s been over a year, man. Come on. This guy needs to cut me a break.
Our resort out in the California desert is going so well we moved to Colorado so Ellie and Ivy could be BFFs. That’s like… a whole three hours closer to Ivy’s parents now, since they’re still living at that private school he runs up in Massachusetts. They could at least give me that.
Plus I’m making bank now. I was making bank before too, but now it’s totally legit bank. Club money is kinda dirty. But resort money, now that’s something you can talk to your in-laws about. And I got a huge inheritance when my father passed away last year.
Except Ivy’s father isn’t into money. He’s not impressed by material things.
Which makes me roll my eyes.
“Why are you rolling your eyes?” Ivy asks in the headset.
“Thinking about your dad,” I say. “And how I can’t ever please him.”
“Well, he was certainly excited about coming out here for the wedding.”
Yeah. But that’s because he doesn’t know we’re all still lying low after we almost got sucked into some bullshit secret society last year. And Five. Jesus Christ. He’s gonna ask a million questions about Five and then what do we say?
I don’t say any of this to Ivy, of course. Mostly because I don’t know this pilot, even though he’s on Five’s payroll, and he can hear everything we’re saying. But also because I don’t want Ivy thinking about last year. She got shot.
Shot.
I still can’t believe it.
The only good thing to come out of that whole nightmare was that her ex, Richard, was proven to be a douchebag. Which made me look a whole lot better in the eyes of Pastor Rockwell.
Bronte reaches for me, which makes me smile and forget all the crap rolling around in my head as I take her from Ivy’s arms. She pats her hands on my cheeks and spits up right on my shirt.
I kiss her chubby cheek and say, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
She laughs out her confirmation.
“I think she looks adorable in this Top Gun outfit.”
Ivy drags her eyes off the view of paradise below and gives me an indulgent smile. “She does,” she says. “But wait until you see her in the special dress I had made for the wedding.”
Yeah, that thing. I have no clue where to start with that. I’m really hoping Ivy’s gonna dress her for the wedding because it’s got like… layers and shit. Tulle or chiffon. Whatever the hell you call that floofy fabric that fancy dresses are made of.
“And her hair will be so cute!” Ivy squeals. “I can’t wait. I’m gonna burn the entire day into my mind and think about it constantly for the next hundred years!”
I thought I knew women, ya know? Thought I had a pretty good understanding of what they’re all about. But it turns out I only knew a certain type of woman. Baby girls… I just have no clue, man. None.
Bronte falls asleep soon after that, which makes me feel all warm and happy inside. So I let all the doubts and weird shit crawling around inside my brain fall away and just enjoy the ride.
It is beautiful. The islands down below are nothing but small patches of white sand beaches. The water is so fucking blue—so many unreal colors of blue, there’s not even a word to describe it.
And then Five’s place comes into view. I’ve never been here before. None of us have. Five is freakishly weird about letting people on his island. But his queen wanted a wedding, and he knew the rest of us were talking about a group one, so he offered.
I’m kinda humbled that he’s doing this, actually. And not only is he allowing the Rockwells to attend, he even invited Pastor Rockwell to officiate.
It means something. Especially to a gang of guys like we are. Tight-knit and filled with secrets. But Five’s secrets are part of it, so it means he’s one of us now.
I kinda like having a number six on this team. In fact, we’re not really six, we’re twelve. All the girls are part of us now too. Even his girl—Rory Shrike.
Match is gonna flip his lid when he gets here. And Cindy… Jesus. I don’t know what Mysterious has been telling her all these months, but I’m guessing she kicked his ass when he finally broke it to her that her sister was alive.
Cindy and Oliver were kept in the dark on purpose. Five didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about Rory. Did I mention he’s a little bit paranoid?
He is. And that reunion between Oliver, Cindy, and Rory—not to mention Ariel, who didn’t know anything either—well, I wouldn’t miss that for the world.
I’m looking forward to my wedding t
oo. Just like Ivy said, I’m gonna burn that day into my mind and think of it often over the next hundred years just like my Mrs. But tonight, when these Shrike siblings all get back together… well, let’s just say the shit is gonna go down.
And that’ll be one for the books too.
I smile at my private thoughts as the helicopter circles over an island down below. It’s big, as far as islands go. I count three houses, a few outbuildings, too many bungalows to count, and something that looks like a barn with paddocks filled with horses, with a whole maze of trails leading into the jungle.
“Yeah,” I say, whispering into my headset so Ivy can hear. “We’re having a wedding in paradise, babe. There’s never been a wedding quite like this before, has there?”
Ivy leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder. “Never before. Never again. We’ve got the market cornered on best wedding for all eternity. And I can’t wait to see you all dressed up in your tux. All hot and sexy.” She turns a little, and I think she’s forgotten that the pilot can hear her, but before I can warn her, she says, “I’m gonna give you the fantasy night you’ve always dreamed of, Mr. Romantic.”
I look up at the cockpit and catch the smirk on the pilot’s face as he looks over his shoulder at us. I pull my headset down with the one free hand Bronte isn’t monopolizing right now, and then do the same for hers, so I can lean into her neck and whisper, “Mrs. Romantic, I don’t need the fantasy anymore. Because I’ve got the real fucking deal every day of my life.”
She giggles, hiding her face in that shy way she used to do more often when we first met.
And I decide I like that. I miss it.
So I’m gonna make it my goal for our wedding night.
I’m gonna take her to our room, do things to her she’s never even dreamed of, and make my Mrs. blush the entire fucking time.
Chapter Four - WEST
I like the boat.
I like Tori and Ethan.
And I like the fact that we’re getting married in a few days and Ethan gets to be my best man.
But other than that… yeah. I’m not too excited about this reunion. For one, it’s on Five’s island and ever since Match explained all the particulars that surround that guy I’ve been a little leery of him.
