Wet Part 3 - Rivera, S Jackson

Wet PART THREE

S. Jackson Rivera AmazingBooks

Published by S. Jackson Rivera Copyright 2015 S. Jackson Rivera Cover design by Creative Paramita (creativeparamita.com) Edited by Proof Before You Publish (proofbeforeyoupublish.com) Formatted by Totencreative (totencreative.com) ISBN-13:978-1517516734 ISBN-10:1517516730 All rights reserved. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. All text, characters, character names, places, culture, incidents, and distinctive likenesses thereof are property of the author. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means

without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events, either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places, events, persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. To report typographical errors, please email: [email protected] Thank you.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17

Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23

Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Bonus Scene:

Chapter 1 it.” Claire’s eyes teared up “I knew with sentiment. “I’ve known since the day you two came to our apartment, the morning after the infamous deck party. When’s the wedding?”

Paul, Rhees, Claire and Dobbs sat on the veranda at Banana Tree, a restaurant in a converted old plantationstyle home. Paul had closed the shop early so he and Rhees could make their announcement to Claire before anyone else heard the news. According to Paul, because of his handicap in the emotionromance department, he might have senselessly let Rhees walk out of his life without ever figuring out the better option. The restaurant, famous for their breakfast burritos, packed a crowd in the mornings, but their dinner menu was limited and ordinary. Paul had chosen the restaurant for privacy and Rhees

pointed out, in awe, his talent for scouting out the best private places. He hadn’t taken it as a compliment, knowing the reasons he’d learned to do it. There’d been times he’d preferred to enjoy a little time without all the flirtatious attention from random girls, and sometimes he’d just wanted to be alone with some random girl. Paul and Rhees flashed a quick glance at each other. Neither of them had given the details of the wedding any thought. It’d been such an ordeal, and relief, to finally just agree they would get married. “How long do you need to plan the wedding?” Paul asked Rhees.

Rhees didn’t answer, stunned by the question. “What kind of wedding do you want?” She still looked lost. “Rhees, I want you to have the wedding of your dreams. Anything you want.” She glanced down. “I’ve never really thought about it.” “You’ve always wanted to get married.” Paul grinned, thinking she had to be teasing. “Doesn’t every little girl have all the details worked out by the time she’s ten?” “Maybe most girls, but . . .” Rhees acted strange, like she’d been thrown off

balance. “I’ve always wanted to be married, I never thought about getting married.” “All right,” Paul said, lovingly stroking her back. “Think about it then. Take as much time as you need to decide what you want, but you should probably figure out who you want to invite though. We’ll have to make arrangements to get them down here . . . unless you’d rather get married in Utah?” “I don’t have anyone to invite, and no, I don’t want to get married in Utah.” “Rhees, it’s your home—” “This is my home. If I have to tell you that one more time, I swear—” “All right, but come on. You have no

one? Relatives? Friends?” “I haven’t had a really good friend —” She ducked her lips to his ear and lowered her voice so the Dobbsons wouldn’t hear, “Since Kylie.” She gave him a knowing, you already know that, look. “My parents were both only children. I remember a couple of family reunions when I was really young, but since my grandparents passed away, there’s no one I know well enough to invite.” Paul gave her hand a squeeze. “I’d invite Perry,” she shrugged one shoulder and frowned, “if I knew where he was. I doubt he’d come, but it doesn’t

matter since I have no idea where he is.” “What about Mrs. Michaels? I know you’re fond of her.” “She’s almost eighty, and she’s on a fixed income. If I invited her, she’d probably come, but what if something happened to her? I don’t want to even tempt her. I’d never forgive myself.” “Okay. We’ll talk about the guest list later. What about the rest of it? Flowers, decorations, venue—” “Why can’t we just find a Justice of the Peace? Can’t Worley just do it?” “No. Rhees—” This didn’t feel right. “I never saw myself getting married, but now that I can’t see myself not keeping you forever, I want the

whole shebang. I think we should go all the way.” Paul leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “That’s how this whole wedding idea started. I wanted to go all the way —you didn’t.” They all laughed and Rhees blushed. “Really! Why can’t we just find someone to marry us, like, tonight?” “You have to have a wedding.” Claire sounded motherly, authoritative. “You didn’t wait this long to just stand in front of Worley and sign a paper.” “That’s right,” Dobbs finally joined the conversation. “There’s no reason to rush into this.” Paul and Claire turned to give him a funny look. Dobbs pushed his

glasses up his nose and turned his attention back to his dinner. Rhees glanced at Paul, begging for help. “What about your family? Do you plan to invite your parents?” He scoffed. “Your sister? I know you love your sister.” “No.” His expression turned hard for a beat but then changed to acceptance. “It’s not that I don’t want her to come. It’s just . . . inviting her would only make her life miserable. I don’t want my parents to come, but if Mary came—it isn’t worth it.” “Aren’t we a pair?” she asked. He noted the sadness in her voice.

After a minute of silently staring at each other, Dobbs and Claire afraid to interrupt, Paul finally decided to stick with his instinct. He didn’t really care, but he was convinced every girl dreamed of a big, perfect wedding, and Rhees deserved the best wedding she could imagine. “This is the only time I’m ever going to get married. We need a real wedding. We have our shop family, and you have the whole Williams family on the island.” Rhees dropped her head back and laughed. “That’d be one heck of a party. The Williamses on this island know how to have fun.”

Most of their gatherings centered around a family member in need. Election parties—win or lose—they celebrated. House raising parties, home repairs, new babies, engagements, any need was deemed a reason to get together to help, and then party afterward. At first, Rhees had been uneasy with their insistence that she belonged, but Paul had never known her to shy away from work. He also knew her heart was too tender to turn her back on someone who needed help. The Williams’ style of family had finally drawn Rhees right in. “See? I know you’ll plan the wedding of the century.”

Rhees stopped laughing and suddenly looked scared. It took him a second, but Paul finally realized the reason for her apprehension. She didn’t feel competent to plan the wedding Paul had in mind. He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her cheek. He’d been acting so mushy, he didn’t recognize himself. “Don’t worry, Baby. You don’t have to do this alone. If I have to, I’ll plan the whole thing myself. I’ll plan the wedding of my freakin’ dreams.” “You’ve never dreamed of a freakin’ wedding.” “Yes, I have.” He grinned playfully. “I’ve just been too embarrassed to admit it.”

She pretended to slap his arm. “We’ll plan this together, okay?” He flashed his blue eyes, hoping to win her over. “Of course, Sweet.” Claire rubbed her hands together. “We’ll all help. You don’t have to do this alone.” “See? Nothing to get all anxious about.” Paul gave Rhees yet another quick smooch. “We still need a date.” Claire acted so excited. Paul raised a brow and looked to Rhees for an answer. “Don’t look at me. This is your freakin’ dream.” She shrugged at Paul. “If it were up to me, we’d be headed to

Worley’s right now.” Paul went blank on her for a second but then smiled and started calculating it all in his head. “Valentine’s Day.” “That’s like, three months away!” Rhees gave him a bug-eyed look. “You’re kidding, right?” “It’ll be here before we know it,” he said in his defense, but by the look on her face, she didn’t believe February fourteenth would ever come. “It’ll be romantic.” Paul waited for her to agree. She didn’t. “Rhees, Baby. I’m trying here. Valentine’s Day equals romance, right?” “It’s perfect,” Claire gushed, tipping

the vote toward Paul’s suggestion. “Who would have thought? A year ago Valentine’s Day, you two were only weeks away from meeting your destiny?” Paul reached for Rhees’ hand and pulled it to his lips. She finally smiled as they gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes and then fused their lips together with a warmer than casual kiss. “You guys are going to start getting all mushy, aren’t you?” Dobbs asked. Paul and Claire gave him a strange look when he groaned. oOo Paul and Rhees decided to risk

sleeping on the deck that night. They were nearing the end of the rainy season and it hadn’t rained in a few nights. They left The Room That Had No Purpose open, just in case. They lay on their mat, next to each other, on their backs, holding hands, and looking up at the night sky. “I’ve missed this,” she said. “Me too.” “I’m sorry I’m not more enthusiastic about a wedding. I don’t know what I want, and I’m afraid I could never do it right.” “I’m sorry I’m not more enthusiastic about a wedding too.” “But you’re the one who—you said

you—” He laughed. “I’m sorry for taking so long to get around to facing my feelings for you. I’m an idiot. We could’ve been married by now if I wasn’t such a dumbass.” He rolled his head her direction to look at her. “I should’ve just proposed the night you said you were gay.” She giggled. He was never going to stop describing what happened that night his way. “I know I’m an ass, but I don’t always realize when it shows. Most of the time I do, and sometimes, I do it on purpose. But there are times—with you especially—I don’t mean to. This is new

territory for me. I’ll have to trust you to let me know when it’s hanging out there, at least, more than normal. You reel me in, make me want to try harder. You’re pretty good at it, sometimes, but you also let things slide, sometimes, too. There are things I don’t want you to let slide, you know? I have to be able to trust you to not let too much slide. Okay?” “It’ll be my pleasure,” she joked because she wasn’t sure she really could. “And while we’re on the subject . . .” He paused. “Uh-oh,” she said with a groan. “Here it comes.” He rolled onto his side to face her,

so she faced him too, and they gazed at each other for a while. He tried to smile to ease her concerns and she let it work because he looked so beautiful, she couldn’t help it. “I need you to promise me you won’t run away from me again.” Her smile dropped and she looked away. “See? You’re doing it now, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Today.” Paul’s voice grew quiet on the last word. He didn’t expect the subject to be so hard to talk about. He closed his eyes and let out a loud breath, trying to rein in the sudden emotion making it so hard to

speak. “I was sure I’d lost you.” He cleared his throat. “In both senses. I had no doubt I’d lost your heart, but I thought I’d lost—aw, Dani Girl,” he choked out. “I was so sure you were going to die.” “I knew it was a risk, but I didn’t care anymore.” “I swam out, waited for you to—I planned to swim to you, and . . . die with you.” “No!” “I fell to my knees and thanked God when you made it.” He stroked the side of her face. “It worked out this time, but . . . I need you to—today.” His voice cracked again.

“I saw the lengths you’re willing to go to get away from me, and I can’t live the rest of my life, worrying you’re going to feel the need to get away from me again, so badly that you’d rather die.” “I ran because I thought you didn’t want me, but we’re getting married. I know now, you love me. I won’t need to run again.” His countenance fell. He knew it couldn’t be so simple. “Fight or flight.” She looked confused. “I’m a fighter. You’re a freaking pilot! You look away, close off, curl up into a little ball—you run . . . or you swim out into the fucking ocean and try

to fucking kill yourself!” She put her arm over her eyes, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I wasn’t thinking about what it would do to you—all I could think about was—” “Getting away—from me. I know.” “It hurt. I needed to get away from the pain, not you. I’m sorry.” “I know.” “I can’t make that promise. It’s a reflex. I don’t even know I’m doing it. How can I not do something I don’t realize I’m doing until it’s too late? The doctor can’t say, ‘I’m going to hit your knee with this hammer, but I need you to promise not to jerk your leg’.” Paul sat up. He needed to think.

“Okay, I guess it is too much to ask. It’s instinct, but . . . today!” He kept saying that, a sign of the trauma he’d endured, and he still hadn’t recovered. She sat up and snuggled into him and he put his arms around her, protectively. “You have to promise me you won’t run so far,” he said, looking down at her, speaking as it came to him. “If you need to run, don’t run so far that I can’t find you, okay? No more airplanes, or ferries, or fucking California!” He flashed a wide-eyed look as if to ask, ‘What the hell were you thinking?’ He glanced away for a second and shook his head, exasperated. He turned back with red-rimmed eyes and

emphasized each of the words that came out next. “And no more swimming fucking channels with strong, fucking currents and . . .” Another sob burst from his throat. “No more trying to kill yourself. Got that?” She moved to sit between his legs but turned to her side so she could put her arms around him. She laid her head against his chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Aw, Dani Girl.” He cleared his throat and composed himself. “If you need to get away from me, just tell me you need some space. I’ll have to learn to let you go. But maybe you could just . . . go get a massage or something, you

know? A shopping spree—even a drunken binge would be better than what you did today.” He exhaled while he grabbed her face between his hands and looked deeply into her eyes, hoping she’d understand the dread she’d caused him. “I like to eat when I’m upset,” she suggested. It was far from true. She lost her appetite in the face of the slightest crisis, but she attempted humor, hoping to lighten his mood. “How will you feel if I put on a few pounds?” “A few?” He chuckled. Her plan worked. “You’re going to get er-really fat putting up with my shit.” Still holding

her by the sides of her face, he leaned in for a tender kiss. When he pulled away, his eyes remained closed. “Rhees, I wouldn’t care if you gained a thousand pounds. I just need you to promise me —” His eyes opened and she saw the plea looming in the stormy blue. “— Promise you’ll never run so far away that I can’t get to you.” “I promise,” she choked out. “Thank you.” He kissed her again and held his lips there longer than last time. “One more thing,” he said against her mouth in the middle of the kiss. She groaned, pulling herself away from his mouth. “That was a really big one, Paul. That one is worth at least fifty

promises.” “I know, but this is important too.” He gave her a raised-eyebrow, fatherly look. “It’s that potty mouth of yours.” She laughed, sure he was just kidding. He didn’t look like he was and she finally inhaled sharply, insulted. “You swear all the time. You can’t sit there and tell me not to sw—” He made another parental, shushing face while he squeezed her cheeks between his thumb and fingers so that her lips puckered. He kissed them again to muffle her objections, the objections still coming from her squashed together, duck-billed lips. “That’s right. I swear all the God-

damned, fucking, shit, I’m going to hell, time.” His lips twitched and joined forces with his eyes, which bore into hers, making her forget to breathe. He didn’t release her from his grasp or his gaze. “I’ve been working on that. Since you came into my life, I don’t want to swear so much anymore, but I’ve been doing it for a long time. It might take a while, but I promise, I’ll work harder on that.” He finally let go but still held her gaze with a tilt of his head. He gave her the vulnerable little-boy look that had become her weakness. “But you—you only swear at me, or because of me. That’s an honor I could

live without. It reminds me of the bad influence I am on you. I don’t like seeing you becoming like me.” “Huh.” She looked out over the water, thoughtfully. It took time to think about it, call on her memory, trying to decide if it was true. She frowned. “Wow, I see what you mean.” She thought some more. “Bearing that in mind, knowing that bit of information will help. I promise to work on it too, but . . .” She struggled. “But if you really expect me to promise I’ll never swear at you again, knowing how meaningful promises are to you, I can only make it if—” She sighed. “The only way I could keep that one

is if you can promise to never make me so crazy that I feel the need to swear, because you really, more than any other person, you know how to push my buttons!” She’d worked herself up. “Ditto!” he snapped, worked up too. He closed his eyes and manipulated his mouth a few more times. He exhaled in resignation. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to it—learn to live with my wife— the sailor.” There was a pause between them before he burst into laughter and pounced on her, holding her down, playfully. “But expect to have your mouth washed out, regularly.” He commenced

assaulting her mouth thoroughly with his tongue, teasingly, expecting her to be repulsed, but she, not only didn’t mind, she gave back. “Hey,” Paul eventually whispered against her lips when he tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t have it. “We’re not married, yet.” “We will be.” “But we’re not. We’ve waited this long, I don’t want to ruin everything— after all this time, I don’t want to ruin it.” “Paaauul,” she whined. “We’re engaged. I’ve never felt this way before. Let’s seize the moment.” He exhaled, frustrated and torn.

He’d love to do just that, but they were so close. He hadn’t come this far to blow it now. “Valentine’s Day,” he mouthed and kissed her one more passionate time. He pulled himself away and sat up, patiently ignoring her tirade–and begging. “You’re such a pruuude!” she taunted in a whiny voice. “Yeah, people call me that all the time—my middle name.” “What is your middle name?” She sat up and leaned on her elbows, wondering how she’d missed that. “William.” “Seriously?” She laughed. “The irony. We really are meant to be

together.” He forced a smile, but he’d never believe that. He loved her, wanted her, and he’d selfishly do everything in his power to keep her, but he’d never believe she was meant for him, not in a million years.

Chapter 2

R

andy showed up at the shop as usual, but instead of heading straight for the boat, he stopped in the office to make an announcement.

“I’m going ta be a gran pappy!” He sounded so proud. “Livia’s going ta have a kid.” “She’s only fifteen.” Rhees didn’t hide her shock. “Yeah, she’s fifteen and now I’m going ta be a gran pappy,” he said proudly. “She’s just a baby herself, how can you—” Rhees had started to share her opinion on the matter when Paul threw his arms around her and kissed her, trying to make it look like playful fun. His surprise, affectionate attack left her feeling off balance. He broke away from her lips long enough to smile warmly at Randy. “Congratulations, Randy. You’re

officially an old man.” Randy balked good-naturedly and walked out of earshot, chuckling and agreeing about life moving along too fast. Paul pulled Rhees around to the compressor room while she resumed her rant about Randy’s horrible announcement and how Olivia’s life was ruined. “How can he be so proud about his young, unwed daughter having a baby?” “You need to calm down. It’s just the culture here. The girls start running around in their early teens and start popping babies out. Grandma and Grandpa raise the babies while mom goes out and has fun. About the time her

kids start running around, mom finally gets married and settles down so she can raise the kids her daughters are popping out.” “But Olivia is just a little girl herself,” Rhees cried out, almost in tears. The Williams family on the island treated her like one of their own. Their unconditional acceptance made it impossible not to feel fondness for every one of them. “I know.” Paul kissed the top of her head while he held her. “The culture is different than what we’re used to, but it’s not all bad. You’ve seen how strong family is here. They stick together, and it all somehow works for them. It’s not

bad, it’s different, that’s all.” oOo Dive shops get busy during the holidays. People have time off and they want to get away from home. Paradise Divers booked almost more than they could handle from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. Rhees, with the help of Miranda’s oven, made a delicious, as close as she could get it, Thanksgiving dinner for some of the North Americans on the island and the shop guests that week, a young family of five from Colorado. Rhees used the family to try out her new Kid’s Club idea. She kept the too-

young-to-dive kids entertained while their parents went out on the boat each day. It worked so well, she decided to advertise the service to attract more families to the shop, and it did. They booked another family of seven at Christmas. “You’re amazing,” Paul said of her talent for attracting new business to his shop, and when he saw how much fun the kids had with her, he added, “the little herders are as much in love with you as I am.” When the larger family arrived, he volunteered to stay and help her with the challenging task of keeping five active children engaged. They loved him too,

or at least the little girl did. Paul insisted the boys just wanted more rides on the wave runners. He said he didn’t understand why, since he wouldn’t go faster than a snail’s pace with the kids on board, and that it was boring. Two of the boys were old enough to be certified, but weren’t, and that gave Rhees another idea. She’d heard Paul talk about being shipped off to sea camp several summers during his early teens. He certified as an open water diver the first year there, and has loved diving ever since. He loved Rhees’ idea of having their own sea camp, talked to the parents, and wound up having both boys certified in time to dive the last day with

their parents. The parents vowed to bring the whole family back every year another kid turned ten so they could get certified too. oOo Paul and Rhees had finally cleaned up, shared an intimate dinner, and were ready to spend their first Christmas Eve together, quietly. Tracy and Regina had flown to England to visit Tracy’s family, leaving the betrothed couple to themselves in their apartment, without Regina ogling Paul to the point of discomfort. They snuggled on the couch, watching the lighted bush Paul had found

for Rhees, the closest thing he could find to a Christmas tree. “I miss the fireplace on Christmas Eve.” Rhees rested her head against his shoulder, lazily running her fingers over his Adam’s apple. “I wish I’d known. I could have figured something out, maybe a bonfire on the beach.” She smiled and turned her head up to look at him. “No. Just being here with you, this is the best Christmas—” Sadness filled her eyes. “Hey.” He pulled her closer. “Still thinking about your brother?” Paul had hired a private investigation firm to find Perry, intending to do whatever it took to

get him to the wedding. They’d traced him to San Francisco and found he’d died a few years after leaving home, of AIDS, or complications due to an HIV infection. They could only assume her parents knew and never told anyone, including Rhees. She wanted to believe they were protecting her. Paul believed it had more to do with being ashamed to find out their son was gay, probably the reason they’d fought with him so often. He believed Perry most likely gave up and ran away to someplace he could find acceptance. “Maybe a little.” She shrugged. “Mostly just comparing this Christmas to

last . . . are you sure you don’t want your sister at the wedding?” “Yeah. It’s not that I don’t want her here, but I don’t think she’d come without telling my parents. I already find myself suspicious of every guest we book, wondering if my father’s hired them to spy on me.” “He’d really do that?” “’Fraid so.” Paul would rather focus on Rhees than discuss his family. He knew her dad had passed away the year before and she’d had to spend the holidays alone. He hugged her with a gentle squeeze. “You’ll never have to spend Christmas alone again, as long as I have anything to

say about it.” “I love you,” she said. “I love you more.” “No you don’t.” “Do too.” “Don’t.” “Do!” They both laughed. He would go on forever . . . she gave up, she always did, first. “You’re such a stinker,” she said. “Am not.” She feigned a frustrated growl and squeezed him back with a giggle. “We should open presents tonight.” Once again, Paul demonstrated how

impatient he could be. “No. It’s Christmas Eve. Can’t open presents until Christmas Day.” “But you know tomorrow’s going to be busy. You may have to wait until late.” “I don’t mind.” She played along, knowing his concerns really didn’t center on her. “We won’t be busy right up until midnight. There’ll be time, even if it ends up being late . . . really, really, reeally late—” “You love using my disdain for anticipation against me, don’t you? Are you sure this isn’t just some passiveaggressive revenge for making you wait to get married?”

“No, I’m not sure. The only way to know is to move the date up.” She looked up at him and bounced her eyebrows up and down. He pulled her closer and kissed her long and hard but had to break it off before things got any steamier. The new, no longer as fearful of all things sexual, Rhees had been driving him to the brink, and he feared what would happen if he reached his limit. He glanced at the tree, or the presents sitting underneath, distracting himself, and He, from their most recent thoughts. “Pleeease?” he mouthed, flashing a sidelong, sad-eyed puppy-dog look, the

saddest look he could manage. It’d almost killed Paul to wait to give her his present, at least one of them. He’d been trying to tempt her to open it since the day he bought it, but she refused. He’d had enough anticipation. “Okay, but just this once. From now on, we wait until Christmas Day.” “I’m still wondering where my real present is, because that beautifully wrapped box under the Christmas bush has nothing in it but a package of storebought spaghetti. I know you wouldn’t really give me pawsta for Christmas.” “I can believe you peeked!” She giggled, saying it as if she’d said the opposite of what she did. “Just imagine

the delicious meal I’ll be able to cook for you with that.” She slugged his arm. “I knew you’d look.” “So, did you get me a real present or nawt?” he asked, rubbing his arm. Her mouth gaped open, almost convincing him the pasta might really be his present. He felt bad for making her think she’d given him a stupid gift, but about the time he wanted to kick himself, her mouth twisted into a sly smile. She stood and unlocked the door to Tracy and Regina’s room. “Gotcha!” she said before she slipped inside and returned with another wrapped package. She looked pleased with herself for outmaneuvering him.

“Tracy left her key with me.” “No way! I tried to sweet-talk Reggie into admitting you were keeping it in their room. She said she didn’t never know nothing about it.” Paul imitated Regina’s accent. “—And I believed her—the traitor.” The idea of losing Regina’s loyalty concerned him and he scowled. “I’m losing my touch,” he mumbled. “Relax. You haven’t lost anything as far as Regina is concerned. It wasn’t in Regina’s room when you asked,” Rhees said, and he felt better, even though she gave him a scolding look, showing how busted he was for trying so hard to find his present. “She didn’t know about it

until the day she left—and for the record, after we’re married, if you use your Kaa eyes on any other woman but me, I’ll rip them out of your head and get them mounted and framed. They’re mine. I’m the only one you’re allowed to hypnotize with them, do you understand?” “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed sheepishly but then smiled gloriously as he jumped up to pull her gifts out from under the tree. He sat back down next to her with bubbly enthusiasm, resting them on his lap, fidgeting with the one he was most excited about. “Okay, so how do we do this?” she asked. “We’re starting a family tradition

here, our first Christmas together.” “What do you mean?” “The way we do it this year will set the precedent for years to come. Do we open our gifts at the same time? Or shall one of us open while the other watches? Do we take turns, you open one and then I open one?” “I didn’t know there were so many ways to do it? How’ve you always done it?” “My dad would wake us up early— like, one o’clock in the morning, early.” The smile on her face warmed Paul’s heart. “Anyone who knew him would never guess, but he was such a little kid at Christmastime.

“Anyway, we’d all gather around the tree and dad would start handing gifts out, one at a time. He’d just reach under the tree and whoever the package was for, we’d watch them open it, and then dad would reach for another until they were all opened. There were only the four of us . . . and then three . . .” Paul put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, knowing she’d just thought about her brother again. It would take a while before her memories of him stopped making her sad. She’d only recently been able to recount memories of her parents without choking up. She cleared her throat. “We didn’t have much money, so it

didn’t take long. I don’t know how practical that would be for a larger family.” “At my house, it was a free for all. When I was younger, things were different. My brother, sister, and I were inseparable.” He’d intended to steer her away from thoughts of Perry but wound up on a topic that suddenly left him feeling his own sense of loss. “But once we moved to Florida, everything changed. Pete and Mare got up extra early one year but didn’t bother to wake me. When I did finally get up, they’d opened all my presents for me— colored all the pages of my coloring book.” He shrugged with a reminiscent

grin and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t mean to give her a reason to feel sorry for him. “That’s probably when I started snooping and opening presents before Christmas.” “Okay,” she said, aghast. His plan had worked. “Christmas rule number one. No one opens any presents until the whole family is there. Not even you!” Paul frowned, but then looked apologetic. “You and making me wait,” he said under his breath. He didn’t miss the roll of her eyes. “Here.” He handed her one of his gifts. “Open mine first. I already know what you got me.” The look on her face made him

regret teasing her. “I don’t, really. I was just teasing you.” It didn’t help. She was sure he was lying to make her feel better. “Honest! Okay, so yeah, I peeked at the one under the tree, and that’s how I knew there had to be another present around here—and I would have peeked —I tried my darnedest to find it, but I never did.” He made sure she noticed the remorse in his eyes and then tapped the gift she held for him, alternating between looking at her and the present. “I don’t know what’s in here, I swear . . . and it’s freakin’ killing me!” He couldn’t help his silly grin. “So please, hurry. Open mine, so I can open

yours. I really have no idea what you got me.” “You’re such a little boy sometimes.” Rhees finally smiled back. “You called me a baby last time. See? I am growing up. Maybe slowly, and probably with some reluctance, but yeah.” She tore at the wrapping paper and pulled out the small camera he’d given her. He didn’t wait for her to look at it too long. He took it from her and started showing her all the features. “I know you don’t want to mess with a big camera under the water. This is the smallest one I could find with a depth

rating that works for how we dive, and look how little it is. It’s small, even with the housing, see?” He held it up for her to see. “The zoom is pretty good and the resolution is amazingly high for this little guy, and look, it has a macro setting, for the small stuff you like to find, and see, the settings are easy to manipulate in the housing. If you’re in the middle of a dive, and you get tired of taking pictures, you can just clip it to your BC. You don’t have to mess with it anymore and it won’t get in the way. You’ll barely even notice it.” She smiled more at his enthusiasm for her gift than the gift itself. He’d thought out every detail, and she loved

how excited he was about it. She’d mentioned that she’d like to try underwater photography but after watching Regina and Paul maneuver in the water with their big rig camera set ups, it had become a turnoff for her. He hadn’t stopped telling her about the camera when she reached up, pulled his face to hers and kissed him gratefully. He forgot about the camera and kissed back. “This is a wonderful gift—it’s perfect—you’re perfect. Thank you. I can’t wait to use it—but you’ll have to help me the first few times. I have no idea what any of what you just said means.”

“Of course.” He smiled. “Now, can I open mine?” He took the package from her, looking back and forth between her and his gift, waiting for her to give him the word to rip off the wrapping paper. She nodded and he tore into it. He pulled out a photo album and an empty picture frame. He frowned. “You hate it,” she said. He hadn’t even looked inside the album, but the look on his face made her regret her gift. “I don’t hate it. How could I hate it?” He hurried to open it up, stalling to think of a way to explain how his other gift to her was almost the same thing.

She’d filled the photo album with pictures of the dive shop, a compilation of what she’d been doing on the shop’s blog. There were photos of the people, the activities, the boats, but when he got to the end, there were some aerial photos of the shop. “How’d you get these?” He’d mentioned he wished he had a good picture of the shop to hang in the office. “Remember that guest who showed up and left in his private helicopter? I asked him to help. He graciously let Regina stowaway when the chopper picked him up. She took these pictures, and then he landed, and let her off at the air strip.”

“You’re a sneaky little thing, aren’t you?” He stared at them. “They’re perfect—much better than what I thought I wanted.” “I left the frame empty so you can pick out the one you want for the office wall.” She reached down and flipped to the last page in the album. “I kind of like this one.” It was a picture of him, set against the sunset. He stood next to one of the posts of the gazebo, one hand on the post, looking at the shop . . . his shop. The picture caught, with true and precise proof, the look on his face, leaving no doubt how he loved his little slice of heaven on the water.

“I actually took this one. You and I were alone at the shop. You had your camera out because you’d just downloaded the day’s pictures to your laptop. You got up and when I looked to see what you were doing, I saw you like that. I carefully hijacked your camera and took the shot. I’m amazed it turned out, but I really love this picture.” “Thank you.” He sounded genuinely touched. He closed the album and opened it at the beginning to look again. “I’m going to need more frames. I can’t decide on just one.” “My turn again?” she asked, looking at the last unopened gift. “Oh, this? I’ve changed my mind.”

He pulled it out of her hands. He really had changed his mind, maybe. The gift suddenly made him feel a little too exposed and vulnerable. “Okay.” She looked disappointed but accepted too readily. Just like her, always putting his desires and needs above her own. He steeled himself and handed her the gift. “Are you sure?” she asked. He nodded and nervously watched her open it. “A photo album. Wow. Great minds really do think alike.” She laughed, and with that one little comment, she’d

erased his misgivings about it. She turned the first page and gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, looking up at him. “It’s you.” He nodded, and she began turning the pages, almost reverently, studying each one, filled with pictures of him, baby pictures, his childhood, up through college. “You said you wished you knew what I looked like as a kid, but that isn’t an easy task when you’re not speaking to your parents. You have no idea how hard it was for me to get these.” “So how’d you do it? You said you didn’t have any of the pictures.” “I asked the guys if they’d go through

their pics and send copies of any they had of me. Taye somehow ran into Mary, and he mentioned what I was after. I guess she raided the family’s stash of photos and got them to Taye without my dad’s ever-watchful eye catching on—at least Taye swears they got away with it. I honestly doubt it, but . . . it’s okay. You’re worth it.” oOo Rhees looked through the pages, taking in how beautiful he was, always had been. A few of his younger pictures proved to her he’d been born with his icy glare. She smiled as she studied each and every one. The pictures were

organized in chronological order so she could see how he’d grown. “You grew a lot from here to here.” She pointed to two pictures that were similar in age but in one, he was much taller than the other. “I grew six inches that summer.” “You look so serious in a lot of these.” He shrugged but didn’t offer an explanation. He watched her look at his life, the past he never wanted to talk about. Nothing in the pictures gave her any clue as to why he’d felt the need to get away from home, but whatever it was, she could tell it’d been building since his teens. Even in the photos,

something in his eyes revealed the weight of the world, weight no boy so young should have to bear. He kissed her cheek, but the cheek wasn’t good enough for her. She set the book down and planted a juicy kiss on his mouth, full of tongue. He didn’t protest and she climbed onto his lap, pushing the gifts and wrapping paper out of the way. She straddled his lap and continued to kiss him, passionately. “Hey,” he said, trying to slow things down, but she wouldn’t have it. “Behave.” He used his strength to muscle her away enough to make her stop and look at him. “I may have relaxed my rules a

bit, but I still have every intention of getting your hymen to the altar unscathed.” “Paul.” She let out a pitiful whine. “I love you so much—I don’t want to wait. Just promise me you’ll marry me, and we’ll call it good. I know you keep your promises.” She ground herself into him and whispered into his ear, “I waannt you.” A ghost flashed across his expression and she sighed with frustration. She braced herself for the reaction she knew would surely come. His breath caught while the possibility of what she’d suggested ran

through his mind. He closed his eyes and shuddered before he found the necessary strength to react. He picked her up and set her off him, retreating promptly to the other side of the room. He paced—trying to convince himself, and He, that he’d done the right thing. She flopped herself onto her back on the couch and let out a frustrated groan. He scrubbed his hands over his face and had to think about every breath he took, in, out, in, out. “Where did you find such intestinal fortitude?” she asked, breathlessly. They both laughed. “You win, as usual, but if you expect me to behave, you’ll have to stop looking so . . . like a stud-muffin.”

“I’ll wear a mask.” He chuckled at her description. She sat up and faced him. “But it’s not just your face.” She started waving her hands at him. “It’s that . . . body. It’s those jeans. You gotta stop wearing jeans until after the wedding.” “It cools off when the sun goes down. I don’t like to be cold.” “It gets warm, Paul. It’s hot all day long, and when the sun goes down, it gets warm, not cold.” “Says the girl I gave my favorite sweatshirt to, because she was cold.” “Three days. I’ve been here since the end of last March. It’s the end of December, so after almost a year, I’ve

been cold three days—total.” She giggled and started waving her hands at him again, like she was outlining his jeans in the air with her fingers. “So those—the way those jeans make your butt look.” She blew air through her lips like a whistle, but the only sound was that of air blowing through her puckered lips. Her inability to whistle never stopped her from trying. She made him smile, again. He listened and watched with fascination as she carried on. “Oh, my! And in the front, the way they just . . . hang . . . off your hips. And when you walk around without a shirt— those hip muscle thingies you got going

on. Oh, my goodness, and the . . .” She put the bottom portion of her palms together, forming a V with her hands. “The way it all just points . . . down.” She rattled her head like it was all too much for her. “What do you suggest I wear then?” He couldn’t help but laugh at her, suddenly feeling a little worried—or scared. She thought a minute. “You know those bright, neon golf clothes old men wear? That might make me stop objectifying you, maybe.” “I’ll keep my eyes open.” He laughed again. “But I don’t think I’ll find anything like that around here.”

“Cargo shorts then.” “I wear cargo shorts. You don’t like cargo shorts?” “They’re fine, practical, but I’ve never really thought, ‘Ooo! Cargo shorts are so hawt,’ on anyone—but this is you we’re talking about. You’d better wear them with sandals . . . and socks. I think the whole cargo shorts-sandal-sock look is goofy. Goofy is good if you don’t want me salivating over you every day until we’re finally married.” He folded his arms and leaned against the wall as he watched her entertaining display of pent-up sexual energy. He’d only seen it one other time, on Duna Caye, the day they’d ended up

engaged. “You need to stop wearing button up shirts too. They accentuate how broad your shoulders are.” She made the V with her hands again. “And how narrow your hips are—comparably. Baggy! You need to wear baggy T-shirts, even around the shop, with your trunks. Maybe Dobbs will lend you some. When you’re shirtless—your abs, and your back, all those muscles . . . mmm. And again, those muscle thingies you got going on, on your hips, you know the ones that form, yet another V. They just point down to—I need to shut up, don’t I?” “How about we sew me up in one of

those bundling bags? I’ll just hop around and use my teeth instead of my hands, until the wedding.” “Good idea . . . or we could just—” She raised a brow and looked at him suggestively. “Rhees! You’re killing me.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Once again, I need to ask, where’s my little Dani Girl —my virtuous, naïve little Rhees?” It was his turn to arch a brow at her. oOo Three teenaged girls walked into the office. “We’re looking for Rhees Williams?” They seemed shy and

uncomfortable. “Is this where she has dance club?” Both Paul and Claire jumped up from their seats. “Yes! Let me get her for you.” Claire beat him to the microphone. “Rhees, darlin’, it’s dance club time.” Paul and Claire smiled ridiculously large smiles at the girls. After hearing about Olivia and the rampant teenage pregnancy problem on the island, an idea stuck in Rhees’ head. She’d made some flyers, and with a little help from Paul and his knack for persuasion, the school principal finally agreed to let Rhees perform a short dance recital at the school to launch her

idea to form a dance club. She’d downed a couple of drinks at lunch, to give her the courage to perform her routine. He’d sat quietly by, amused that she’d put herself through all this, and then she’d dragged him to the school with her. “If they aren’t tempted to join for the dancing, maybe they’ll show up to ogle you.” “I never would’ve believed you’d pimp me out this way. I’m nothing to you but a piece of good-looking tail, am I?” he’d teased, but then later, he’d voiced his concern. “I understand where your heart is with this. I just don’t want to see you get your hopes dashed. You’re trying

to fight centuries of ingrained culture.” Claire had told her the same thing. “If it doesn’t work, at least I’ll know I tried. In the meantime, it could be fun. It’ll give me something worthwhile to do to keep up with my, all-of-a-sudden, Mr. Civic Duty, fiancé. I feel like such a slouch since you’ve been running off to all your council meetings.” Paul had recently convinced the local elected officials to form a tourism council. With the united help of the other dive shop owners, and his Williams family connection—he was marrying in —he’d been elected to sit on the council. They needed to somehow convince the locals that tourism would do more to

improve the poverty level around the island. If they’d concentrate on the draw of the diving community, stop overfishing, stop selling lobster at only four dollars a plate, and start protecting their reefs, everyone would benefit. “You’re no slouch.” He’d acted annoyed she’d say that, but then grinned playfully. “Keeping me out of trouble is a full-time job, and you do it very well. But seriously, it’s something I’ve meant to do for a long time, not all-of-asudden. I just never got around to it. I was too busy getting drunk and letting loose women have their way with me.” He’d grimaced at the truth of his life over the years before sweeping her into

his arms and kissing the top of her head. A month after her attempted kickoff, not one girl had shown up for dance club, and Paul knew she had to be disappointed, despite her insistence that she was fine. Rhees almost scared the girls off by the way she came barreling into the office, but Paul watched as her kindness and genuine concern for the girls put them at ease. He was reminded again how sweet and innocent Rhees was. He’d once compared her to a teenaged girl—on the inside—the outside screamed full-grown, sexy-as-hell, woman. Paul hung back, giving her space, but

he spied on them as Rhees led them out on the deck, sat them around the table in the gazebo, and started by getting acquainted with each girl. When Rhees asked them to show her their moves, they were too shy, so Rhees showed them hers, well, a handful of them. She had to start someplace. Paul watched in admiration as Rhees slowly worked her way into the girls’ hearts, the way she had his—maybe not exactly the same way. He couldn’t get the silly grin off his face—or rid himself of the involuntary reaction his body had while watching his girl, yeah, his girl, move to the music. He cursed himself for choosing

Valentine’s Day—how much freakin’ longer was it? Three and a half more weeks? He couldn’t very well go for a swim off the deck in broad daylight. “I’ll be across the street,” he yelled at Claire as he passed the office, on his way to his apartment.

Chapter 3 about this one?” Paul picked “H ow up another ring. “Paul. You’re not listening to me. I don’t want a big ring. It’ll just get in the way at the shop, catch on things.” Rhees

looked at the price tag and gave him a bug-eyed look. “Wedding. BAND.” They’d flown to the capital that morning to buy wedding rings, but things weren’t going so well. Paul rolled his eyes, again. “I want my wife wearing something that says, ‘Mine! You touch, you die’.” She tried to hide her grin from him. She knew he’d use his ability to make her laugh against her. “I’m the one in this relationship who needs to send that message. Something that says, ‘Hey, Coitus Club, he’s mine. Get your own’.” She giggled and proceeded to take the ridiculously huge and expensive ring from his hand and

slipped it as far onto his finger as she could. It only made it to the first knuckle, but she made a production of admiring it. “There. I think we should get this one for you.” “I should have done this alone,” he grumbled under his breath. “I could have bought you any ring I wanted, and you’d be so worried about hurting my feelings you’d say you loved it, even if you didn’t.” “Yep.” “Me and my good intentions,” he grumbled again and said something in Spanish to the salesman. “Did you just tell him I was crazy?” she asked.

“I thought you didn’t understand Spanish.” “I don’t, but I understand the word, loco. And I know you’re talking about me.” Paul chuckled and embraced her. “I didn’t tell him you were crazy. I told him I was crazy about you.” He kissed her nose, and when he thought she’d bought it, Paul turned to the man and made a wide-eyed, crazy face, drawing circles in the air around his ear with his finger and pointed back at her. “I saw that. You are such a liar.” She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. oOo

“A week from today!” Paul said to the salesman as they walked out of the jewelry store. Paul had progressively switched his communication with the salesman to more and more Spanish as the time went by. The frustrated couple finally decided to take a break and try again the following week. “That was a bust,” she said. “All that time and we still didn’t agree on rings.” “Well, if you weren’t so stubborn.” “Oh, my gosh! I am nawt the stubborn one here.” Paul stopped and looked into the window of the building they were

walking past. “What are you going to wear?” She didn’t dare mention how she thought her bone-white clubbing dress would be a good option. He hadn’t let her wear it since that night and she wasn’t sure if he thought she looked too good in it, or if it brought back too many bad memories for him. “I don’t know.” She finally looked into the window to see what had caught his attention. The area seemed to have more than a few wedding-related shops, like a one-stop, all your wedding needs are concentrated here, type of thing. Paul stared at a display of wedding dresses. “Oh, no,” she rushed to say before

he had enough time to formulate an opinion on the matter. “I’m not wearing something like that. I’m not one of those girls who want all the attention to be on her. I want something simple.” He sighed in exasperation. “I’ve given you simple every step of the way.” “No, you haven’t! You’ve bamboozled and bullied me every step of the way to get exactly what you want.” “Okay. That’s a fair observation.” She laughed and the mood lightened immediately. “Who says bamboozled anymore?” he asked with a chuckle. “Okay. I’ll admit you’ve given a few

inches,” she conceded. “—But nowhere near, ‘Every step of the way’.” “Thank you.” He beamed at her concession as if she’d just told him he was better looking than Robert Redford and Paul Newman. He’d made it his mission to get her to admit it. “How about we just take a look?” He tossed his head toward the dress shop. She closed her eyes and groaned to let him know her submission was under duress before she walked through the door he held open for her. An hour and a half later, they walked out empty handed. His mood had soured, hers had too. “You’re just going to have to trust

me on this one,” she said. Before she knew what happened, he’d picked her up and had her pressed against the building with his body. “Are you doing this on purpose?” He searched her eyes, his own so serious, almost severe. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?” “What are you doing?” He’d taken her by surprise. Her eyes darted nervously down both sides of the street, sure a dozen people had to be gawking. “You going to do me right here, in public? Now?” “You don’t think I would?” “No. I don’t think you would.” “You have a short memory, Dani

Girl. I’ve shown you how fast it can happen. You’ve seen me in public. How many times have you watched me on Frock?” “Not once!” She squirmed uncomfortably. “I always walked away. I didn’t want to see it.” He studied her face carefully. She scanned his as well. She couldn’t tell how serious he was, or if he was just being playful. She wrapped her legs around his waist to make it easier to hold on, instead of being suspended there, her legs dangling off the ground. “I wanted to find a Justice of the Peace, remember?” “Is that what you’re doing? Trying to

get me to give in?” His crooked grin was as beautiful as ever. “Is that what you think—that I’m bamboozling you?” She smiled, but she thought she probably shouldn’t. “Is it working?” “You’ve been doing contrary better than usual, Dani Girl. You’re turning me on. Are you doing it on purpose?” Her mouth opened and then closed again. She didn’t know what to say. “I’ve shown restraint . . . for you, but the closer we get—it’s getting harder, Baby. Please, watch which buttons you push. You may not like the results.” He closed his eyes and pinched his lips tight. “I wouldn’t like the

results. I don’t want to mess this up that way. I’m really trying here.” “Paul, I’m sorry.” She ran her hand lovingly along his jaw and rested it on his cheek. “I’m not trying to be contrary, or feisty, or goad you into anything, or turn you on—wait, that’s a lie. I’ve tried —I tried to seduce you on Duna and at Christmas. Apparently, I don’t know how.” She sulked. “If I did, I wouldn’t still be a virgin.” The look on his face—she felt bad, wondering why it was so hard for him. She didn’t understand. “Bamboozled? Who says that?” He rattled his head, and then suddenly, his lips smashed into hers. After a long few

seconds of one of the hottest kisses he’d ever shared with her, he said, as if he hadn’t just kissed her silly, “Damn, Rhees. You turn me on just by opening your eyes in the morning. It comes perfectly natural for you. The second we’re married—” It took a second to regain her senses, but her unsuccessful attempts came to mind. She rolled her eyes, displaying she didn’t believe him. The look in his eyes changed as he let her slip down a few inches and he pressed himself into her where her legs straddled him. “Feel that?” he breathed into her ear. “That is proof. You more than turn me on. I could take you right here, right

now.” He smashed his mouth into hers again and kissed her like he was about to. He felt so warm, tasted so good—she forgot everything, all about being on the street, in public, their argument, her name . . . and she wilted. The smile that slowly swelled over his whole face was the warmest, loveliest, sexiest smile she’d ever seen on him, but the magnitude of it broke their kiss and the loss of heat left her body protesting. She was speechless, left searching his eyes for an explanation of how he’d found the strength to stop when she didn’t believe she could have. “That’s the first time.” His eyes looked shiny, touched, hungry, yet sated

at the same time. “You wilted. You’ve never wilted on me before.” He kissed her again but it felt more like being worshipped than the raw, impassioned kiss of before. He let out an animalistic groan and broke away again. “But we’re waiting! I’m nawt messing this up, Dani Girl. Not when we’re so close.” oOo A little over a week before the wedding, the girls at the shop approached Paul and Rhees, who’d just finished lunch under the gazebo. “We need to talk about the bridal rain—”

“You mean bridal shower,” Tracy interrupted. “—But I thought it was a bachelorette party.” “Tracy, I thought we all agreed. I am the one to be doing all the talking.” Regina seemed nervous about the conversation they were trying to have with Paul. “But you said it wrong. There’s no such thing as a bridal rain.” “All right.” Regina turned her attention back to Paul. “We want to be throwing Rhees . . . a party, two days before the wedding. We wanted to make it a shock—” “Surprise,” Tracy interjected again and Regina’s frustration grew.

“But we decided we should like to go to the mainland, and spend the night, so making it a shock—” Regina held her hand up to silence Tracy before she corrected her again. “I mean, a surprise, becomes an impossibility.” Paul laughed as though he thought Regina had just told a joke. “No,” he said. “She’s not going to the mainland without me. You’re all going to drink, and get careless—” “Paul, don’t.” Rhees shot him a threatening look. Tracy and Regina weren’t the only ones standing there, ready to plead their case. Krista, Dorene, and a few other girls from around the island, basically the remnants

of the Coitus Club, had banded together to convince him. Rhees felt genuinely surprised to see so many girls planning to throw her a shower, but she had no doubt Paul was about to embarrass her in front of all of them. She turned to face him directly to be sure he saw the warning expression she wore. “No!” he said, not only ignoring her warning glare, but sending her one of his own. He flashed back to the group of girls standing before them. “Whatever you’ve planned to do on the mainland, you can do here. I’ll pay any added costs if you have to have things brought over.” “We can’t bring the male strip club to the island, Paul,” Krista said.

Paul’s stern glare snapped from Rhees to the girls. “We figured Rhees wouldn’t go for the happy ending massage, but we think she should, at least, see a few other men before she settles down with the only man she’s ever been with.” The girls broke into a round of laughter. “Even if she did score the best, her first try,” Kelly said with her hand over her mouth, aiming to be heard by only the girls, but Rhees heard. Paul, most likely, did too. She felt her face grow hot, but Paul actually went a little pale as he turned his head back to look at her. She didn’t understand his expression. He just

stared, as if in a stupor. “We were never intending to be taking Rhees to a stupid male strip club.” Regina finally pulled the plug on the joke when she saw the look in Paul’s eyes. “Right. No strippers. Some of us are disappointed about that.” Tracy gave Regina the stink-eye. “I told them you would not like that,” Regina jumped to her own defense, trying to assure him she was on his side. “I knew you would never like that.” “We really plan to do some shopping, make sure she has something to wear on her wedding night, if you catch my drift.” Tracy flashed her

eyebrows up and down. “Then we’ll go to a club for a while,” Dorene added. “A social club— not a strip joint, and just hang out, nothing wild. We promise.” “Paul, please,” Rhees whispered as she leaned into him. It worried her that he’d get fatherly in front of the girls. They’d already accused her of being his lap dog. “I want this.” “Rhees.” Paul finally blinked out of his daze with a scowl on his face. “Paul,” Rhees mouthed as she squirmed nervously, imploring with her eyes, and then she blurted, “twenty!” His shoulders drooped with a

defeated sigh. She’d used his own measurement tactic against him. He hadn’t planned on asking how badly she wanted this, because asking would have sounded like he was considering it. He didn’t want Rhees going to the mainland without him, period. However, Krista’s comment had thrown him. She’d only meant to tease him, not knowing the truth, but it hit, full force, and he couldn’t quite get his head wrapped around it. He would be Rhees’ one and only, forever. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his girl, his girl, feeling like the last man in the world to deserve such a gift, a gift he was so far off from being able to give in return.

“I mean it!” Rhees insisted again. She had no idea how humbled he felt at the moment. He frowned, knowing he didn’t deserve someone as special and perfect as Rhees. “Okay,” he said, a little breathlessly. Rhees couldn’t believe Paul had given in. Not only did he yield, but to her relief, he didn’t rattle off a long list of conditions in front of the other girls. She slipped her arms up and around his neck and looked into his eyes as if searching for something. “What?” Paul looked so distracted, and . . . compliant. “Who are you, and what have you

done with the real Paul?” Paul cinched his arms tightly around her, pulling her in close so she wouldn’t see the frown on his face. He held her like he never wanted to let her go. He didn’t deserve her, but doing the right thing could go to hell, he was keeping her anyway. “Oh,” he said. “He’s right here, as Paul as ever.” oOo The next day, Rhees kissed Paul on the cheek as he and Mitch prepared to take the wave runners out for some fun.

“I’m going to head over to Dorothy’s while you’re out trying to kill yourself.” “Why do you have to spend so much time with the seamstress? Don’t you just tell her what you want and let her do the rest?” “I’m actually doing most of the sewing. Dorothy’s helping me with the fittings and some of the detail work. She has the machines and materials, but I designed the dress. I don’t trust that she fully sees my vision.” “Are you sure you don’t want to just buy something?” The worried look on Paul’s face made her smile. “Stop worrying. I promise my dress isn’t going to fall apart, piece by piece,

as I walk down the aisle.” He still didn’t look comforted. “Oh, ye of little faith. You didn’t think I could cook either.” “Sorry. My mom did a good job of convincing me no one can cook unless they’ve trained for years at culinary school . . . except for Carmen.” “I made the orange, floral shirt you love so much.” She offered bouncy eyebrows, awaiting his endorsement. “Oh.” He suddenly perked up, but he seemed thoughtful, as if checking his memory to make sure he’d never noticed any flaws. “I trust you. I just hate all the time you’re spending with Dorothy and not me.” She glanced at the watercraft he was

about to climb onto and laughed. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.” “I’ll notice.” He wrapped her into his arms and kissed her with more fervor than he usually dared. “Be careful on your way there.” “Dorothy lives a block away.” She slid an arm around his neck and put her other hand on the side of his face. “The only reason I’m letting you go alone, but stay alert and remember the self-defense I’ve shown you.” He tapped his finger a couple of times on her chest near her heart but above her breasts. “You won’t use the moves on me but I’m counting on that Rhees-has-been-pushedtoo-far instinct you have inside here.

When you insist on going places without me, my only hope is it’ll kick in if someone decides to try anything.” “It’s broad daylight. Everyone knows you’d kick their bottoms if they tried anything. I’ll be fine.” “Says the creepazoid magnet.” He kissed her one last time before pulling away with a smirk firmly in place. He climbed onto his machine. “And I’m sure everyone’s quaking in their flip flops. I’m such a kick-bottom, bottom kicking kind of guy.” “You can’t make me promise not to swear, and then make fun of me for keeping said promise.” “Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t.” “Just did.” He winked and gave the watercraft some gas as he sped away, throwing a splash of water up onto the deck. She jumped out of the way of the big wave, avoiding getting completely drenched, barely. “You’re such a bottom-hole!” she yelled after him with a giggle. He stopped, offered smoldering eyes back, and then blew her a kiss from lips set in one of his glorious smiles. “Be careful!” He pointed at her as a stern warning and then he and Mitch zipped away. “Oh, my gosh,” she said with a whimper. “I need that man to marry me

already.” oOo “Okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” The soon-to-be-wed couple kissed, and Paul stood on the dock, watching as Rhees and nine girls from the island boarded the ferry for Rhees’ shower. They climbed the stairs to the top of the big boat to the open-air seats instead of sitting in the stuffy main cabin. Rhees still couldn’t believe Paul had agreed to let her go and that he hadn’t given her a list of conditions. She’d expected a long one, but the days went by and he’d said nothing about it. The leg bouncing, the pacing, the throat

clearing—as if he’d wanted to say something—but thought better of it. And then of course, the mouth tic had been in hyper-drive, all indications of the anxiety tearing away at his high-strung soul, and she’d half-expected him to explode at any point. “Have fun,” he yelled. He waved as the ferry pulled away from the dock. She couldn’t believe he’d done it. He’d let her go, unconditionally, and it warmed her heart. “Claire!” Paul barked from the pier and some unspoken message passed between them, but then Claire acted all too innocent when Rhees gave her a questioning look.

oOo The girls stepped off the ferry, excited for the activities they’d planned. As they hiked the distance from the ferry to the taxi waiting area, they noticed two big, burly men in suits, standing next to a large stretch limo, holding a sign that said, “For The Beautiful Girls of Paradise Divers and Friends, Enjoy your evening, Paul.” “A limo,” Regina said as though she’d expect nothing less from the most wonderful man on the earth. “Oh my!” Maya yelled. “Paul did this.” “Oh how sweet.” This from Krista. “He hired chauffeurs.”

“He’s so thoughtful.” Dorene swooned. “And classy.” Kelly nodded. “How romantic.” Rhees only saw how Paul had seized control over the trip, after all, and she fumed. She knew the men were bodyguards, not just drivers and the information rubbed her wrong. It was bad enough the two men followed them around everywhere they went, a real driver would wait with the car, but every time Rhees left the group during their shopping excursion, or to use the restroom, one of the men followed her— one bodyguard for nine girls, one bodyguard just for her. She wondered if

the other girls noticed the steam that had to be coming out of her ears. It had been a whirlwind day that wore Rhees out. By midnight, she asked if they could go back to the suite, another Paul upgrade surprise. The party didn’t stop at the room and someone complained about running low on ice. Rhees volunteered to get it as an excuse to have a minute to breathe. The girls were nice, and Rhees did have fun. She wouldn’t let her annoyance with Paul, and the fact that most of the girls at her party were members of the Paul’s Former Coitus Club, keep her from enjoying the thoughtful gift, but the quick break would do her some good.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she leaned against it and let out a long sigh. She almost cried. The pressure of socializing and being upbeat got to her. She thought about Paul and in spite of her resentment, the humiliation, and anger about being treated like a child, she missed him. “Miss Williams?” One of the bodyguards stood next to the door like a sentinel. She hadn’t noticed until he said something. “Is everything all right, Ma’am?” “Um . . .” She felt so embarrassed about getting caught enjoying a mild breakdown. “Yes. I’m just getting ice.” “Let me get Cuevas to stand watch,

and I’ll get the ice for you.” “No, that won’t be necessary. I can get the ice.” “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but I have strict instructions not to let you go anywhere unattended.” “Okay.” Rhees rolled her eyes. She didn’t want him to get fired. He knocked on the door directly across the hall, another suite, and she realized how much money Paul had spent on this shower slash bachelorette party. Cuevas opened the door. His suit appeared a little rumpled from trying to get some sleep for his upcoming shift to stand watch at her door—so someone would be standing there—all night. She

rolled her eyes again. “So, what security firm do you work for?” she asked, making polite chit chat on the way to the ice machine. “Safetynet Security, Ma’am.” “Do you know Paul, Mr. Weaver?” “No Ma’am, not personally, though he’s hired the firm in the past for friends of his, visiting the mainland.” “Hmm . . . what did he tell you about tonight?” “Mr. Weaver wanted to make sure you and the girls were safe . . . especially you. He made it clear you are the most precious target we’ve ever guarded.” “Target? How did you know which

one was me?” “Pictures. He emailed your picture to the firm.” “Do you get bored out here all night?” They’d made it back to the room. “Would you like me to bring you a drink? Some food? There’s more than enough.” “No. Thank you, Ma’am. It’s my job. Enjoy the rest of your party.” Rhees walked back inside. She dropped the ice bucket off on the kitchen counter, grabbed her phone, and went into the walk-in closet, away from the party, and dialed. “What’s wrong?” Paul barked, sounding frantic when he answered.

Rhees exhaled and smiled. It was so good to hear his voice. “Thank you, Paul. I love you.” “Thank you? How a-bout, Oh, Paul, I misss you. I wish I’d ne-ver come all the way to the main-land. I could be h-oome with you riiight now . . .” “That’s the other thing I called to say.” She giggled. “Wha’d are you than-king me for?” “For caring about me so much that you’d hire two bodyguards to keep me safe—in spite of how I resented it, at first, and because you only hired them because you couldn’t be here to protect me yourself. Because I’m a dummy, and I told you I really, really wanted to do this

on my own . . . when I didn’t, and you let me, and you took the time and effort— and MONEY to make this night special for me even though you didn’t want me to come, and I wish I hadn’t.” “Aaand . . .?” She giggled again. “Sorry, I’m sure there’s more, but it’s late, and I’ve had a few drinks. I’m afraid that’s all you’re going to get from me tonight.” “Aw shoot. I like hearing why you love me and think I’m ga-reat.” “I’ll tell you what, start a list, and tomorrow, I’ll sign off on everything you come up with, K?” She could feel him grinning his goofy grin on the other end of the line. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Are you at the hotel yet? I’m coming. I want to be with you.” “Really?” She thought through the logistics of him getting there. “Wait, you’d never make it before we’re ready to head back in the morning.” “Oh, yeah.” He sounded so disappointed. “But it’d cut off a couple of hours. I’d see you sooner.” “Tempting, but use the time to get some rest, please. How did your party go?” He laughed. “It’s good—not over yet. I’m da-runk.” “I could tell by the way you’ve been slurring words.” “The guys said we have to hit every

bar on the is-land and have at least one drink at each one. Don’t think I’m going to make it. Haven’t been da-runk in a while, got da-runk faster than normal, and didn’t take as much to get da-runk.” The line went silent for a moment. “Paul? You still there?” “Yeah, just thinking. I’m relieved Taye and the guys couldn’t make it down for the party. I mean, I’d love them to be here, and I’m glad they’re coming for the wedding, but Taye’d be trying to convince me to take advantage of my laaast chance as a seen-gle man.” Rhees didn’t say anything for a minute. “I asked Christian and Rick to make

sure I don’t m-mess up.” “All of the girls I’d normally be worried about are here, with me,” Rhees said sheepishly. “And I asked Dobbs to look out for you, too.” “Aw, thank you, Baby, but you forgawt a few of my old haunts–or Coitus Club members. They’re here, following me around—hovering. But don’t worry. I’m not ee-ven tempted. Ee-ven da-runk, I don’t want anyone ex-cept my nectarine.” “I’m happy to hear.” “I asked Claire to look out for eyou.” “I figured.” She thought about how differently they each used the words,

look out for. “And don’t forget the six hundred pounds of protection outside my door. Thank you.” “I couldn’t let anything happen to you before I finally get to have my freakin’ way with you!” “Only one more night after this one.” “Yeah, one more night.” He blew out a loud breath. “Paul?” She sounded scared to ask, but she had to. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” “No—yes . . . I don’t know. I’m scared shitless, Dani Girl.” She grew quiet again. “I ne-ver thought I’d get married. Yes, I am un-shhure . . . and scared to

death, but the thought of ne-ver seeing your face again, ne-ver waking up to you awll wrapped around me, ne-ver hearing you laugh—that scares me even more.” He paused. “Are you shhure you don’t want me to come to you? Because I really wawnt to come to you. Remember on Christmas Eve, you said, if I promise to marry you, we could have sex that night?” “Um, yeah. Where are you going with this?” “I shhould’ve taken you up on it— almost did. I wawnt you, Dani Girl—I’m coming right now.” It sounded like he put his hand over the phone and yelled. “Randy! Come on. I need you to take me

to the mainland.” He was back on the line. “I’m coming.” “Paul! No. You’re right, you should have taken me up on it—then, because I’ve changed my mind a—” “Aw, come on, Baby!” Paul out-andout wailed like a two year old. “Don’t do this to me. Tell me you’re ready–you don’t need more time, do you? Oh, Gawd, please, no. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” “Only until our wedding night!” She giggled. “Calm down, Baby. I’m not backing out on you or changing my mind about that, I swear. It’s just, we made it this far. We may as well go the distance, don’t you think?”

“Good hell, Dani Girl. You just gave me a heart a-ttaack. You have no idea what awll this dreaming of a life with you has done to me. I mean, at first, I neeeded to control my-self—I was an animal. Being good around you challenged me, and I needed a good challenge in my life again, but now, since Costa Rica, coming to grips with my feelings –He’s freakin’ outta control!” “Wedding night!” she assured. There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Paul? You still there?” “You called me Baby.” “Yeah.” She casually brushed that aside, too worried about what was

wrong with him. “You sound choked up. Paul? What’s wrong?” “You’ve never called me Baby before.” His voice sounded raspy and he went silent again. She didn’t know what to say. She heard him sniff. “Once— when it was just pretend, but you’ve never called me anything but Paul. “Well, ta-wice, but the first time—” his mood swung back to upbeat, “—you added the word ‘big’, which kind of changes the meaning. You’ve called me a few other choice names too . . . but Rhees?” “Yeah,” she answered, still surprised at how one little term of endearment had affected him.

“That is sooo haawt!” She sensed his huge smile, even if she couldn’t see it. “That’s it—I’m coming to get you. I love you sooo much—Randy! Where are you, Raan-dee?” “No. Get some sleep, Paul—Baby. I love you too, but you’re drunk. Randy’s probably drunk too—you’ll both kill yourselves if you try to cross the channel tonight. Go sleep it off. I mean it!” “Aww,” he whined. “I’m not going to be able to sleeep anyway, all alone, with you so far a-way.” “Have one more drink—you’ll sleep. I’m positive of that.” She giggled. “Two more nights. We can make it.”

“You’re sure you’re not just fareakin’ out on me again?” “Yes,” she whispered. “My fareakin’ out days, amazingly, are over since I fell in love with you. I’ve never felt this way before.” They both sat silent for a couple of minutes. “Um, I guess I should probably go.” “Aw . . . I don’t want you to go.” “Me neither.” “Aw, damn the time. Two more days.” “We’ll be married by the end of the second.” “Yeeah. It’s weird, huh?” “What’s weird?” “That if I did come get you tonight . .

. for the reason I wawnt to come get you, I’d be screwing ev-ery-thing up, pun intended. But two nights from now, purrfectly okay.” “Yeah, weird.” She giggled. “Paul?” “Yeah?” “I love you, Baby.” “I love you too, Baby.” “Good night, my pretty beautiful man.” “Did you ser-iously just call me paritty?” “Nope.” She giggled. “I could’ve sworrrn I heard you call me pa-ritty.” “I called you pretty beautiful, like kinda beautiful.”

“Pfft,” he said at her term and then laughed. “Good night, Princess.” It was her turn to scoff. “Good night.” They both waited. “Hang up, Paul.” “You first.” “No, you.” “No.” “I love you. See you tomorrow.”

Chapter 4 here, Baby.” Paul softly “W e’re kissed each of Rhees’ closed eyelids. “I can’t believe you can sleep right now. You’ve slept almost the whole way.”

He’d waited until the last minute to wake her, after spending the last two hours and forty minutes furiously bouncing his leg and tapping his thigh with his fingers. The anticipation of their destination, his plans, their plans, made him wish he could get in a good session of hard, physical exertion to work off his nervous tension. The bus he’d chartered to get everyone from the capital, pulled through the gate of the Historical Park. The ruins where they planned to have the wedding loomed ahead. “Hmm?” Rhees stirred, raising her arms up, over her head, in a long stretch before she smirked. “I didn’t sleep well

last night. My snuggle buddy wouldn’t snuggle with me, and to top it off, he shook his leg all night, vibrating the bed —kind of like he’s doing now.” She opened one eye, her gaze going directly to his bouncing leg. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t chance touching you.” “Hmm?” “Snuggling—I couldn’t chance it. I’ve been a little wound up, but now I’m just so relieved I didn’t screw it up.” The bus came to a stop and the driver opened the door. The people in the seats ahead of them, all friends from the island, and a few from the States, made their way off the bus.

“Mmm . . . it’s close.” She looked up at him and smiled adoringly. He kissed her cheek. “Yeah, I know.” His lips made their way to hers and he kissed her passionately. “Wow. That’s some kiss,” she said breathlessly when he finally pulled away. “I’ve been holding that in for a while, my promise always in the back of my mind. But I figure I can’t get too carried away—well, I fully intend to get too carried away later tonight, after I make you a new promise—my vows.” He kissed her again and they both moaned deliciously, pawing at each

other as much as possible with a bus seat armrest between them. She finally sighed uneasily, and Paul pulled back to check on her. “You’re scared.” “No.” She dropped her gaze. “I’m not freaking out, I promise, but maybe —maybe, I am a little nervous.” “I know, and that’s okay.” He put his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her forehead to his lips. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll go at a pace you’ll be comfortable with.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “It’ll be my first time, too.” Her confused eyes darted up to meet his. “Liar.” She smiled like she thought

he’d only said it to tease her. “Serious. One hundred percent.” He gave her a little more time to be confused, taking a second to enjoy watching her try to figure it out before sharing his recent thoughts. “As in, your first time in months?” she attempted to clarify. He shook his head, still with a look on his face to suggest he had a secret. “What is on that brilliant mind of yours?” “Okay.” He grinned. “I’ve had a lot of sex with a lot of women. You know that.” “I don’t care about that. You know I don’t.”

He nodded in agreement. “I’ve had sex, but that’s all it’s ever been. Tonight will be the first time—” He pressed his lips to her forehead again. “I plan to make love to you. It’ll never be just sex between us. I love you too much.” He paused to clear his throat, and then panted out a laugh, surprised at himself for getting emotional. “I can’t wait to have every part of you, take my time with you, for you. I plan to make tender, adoring, glorious love to you, as my wife, my partner for the rest of my life, the most exquisite woman I’ve ever known, the only woman I’ve ever loved. So yes, my beautiful Danarya, it will be my first

time, too.” She blinked a few times, never taking her eyes off him. She took a breath, and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Her eyes welled up instead, as she nodded in understanding, before she buried her face into his neck. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” She shook her head against his shoulder, trying to get a hold of herself. “You’re so perfect,” she choked out. “God, I’m far from perfect.” He glanced down, uncomfortable with the description. “I got that out of a fortune cookie.” She let out a half-laugh, half-sob and

they gazed at each other for a second, smiling giddily like two kids overcome with puppy love. “Not perfect, but I’m better than I was. You’ve made me a better man than I’ve ever been.” She reached for his cheek when Taylor’s voice broke the spell. They hadn’t noticed he’d boarded the bus again, and stood, looming over them. “Glad you two are blissfully in love, but that selfish sentiment has made you oblivious to the rest of us.” Taylor and Paul locked eyes as Paul tried to decipher how much his friend had heard. Taylor gave nothing away, but the somber look in his eyes didn’t match his

words. “We have needs, too. We’d just like to get this mushy stuff over with so we can get drunk and work on finding our own destinies. I’ve seen at least four of the local girls out there, waiting for me to declare my undying love for them . . . behind the storage shed.” Taylor laughed. Rhees made a disgusted noise and Paul rolled his eyes. “I’ll go take care of the last minute details.” Paul leaned over to give Rhees a quick peck on the lips. He looked her over, as if taking her in for the last time, but then smiled so big, he worried he’d pull a muscle in his cheek—but he couldn’t stop. “This is it.”

“Yeah,” she said back with her own excited smile. “I’ll tell the girls to come and help you get dressed,” Paul said as he ushered Taylor off the bus. oOo Paul, Taylor, David, and Bryce, made their way to the tourist administration office to pay the head curator his bribe money for allowing the wedding to take place at the top of one of the pyramids. Tourists were not typically allowed to climb the structures. Claire, Tracy, and Regina boarded the bus a minute after Paul and Taylor stepped off.

“It turned out beautiful, Rhees.” Claire’s mouth hung open in admiration when they finished getting Rhees into her wedding dress. “Think Paul will like it? He’s been so worried about my ability to make it myself.” “Paul will love it. You could be naked, and he’d love it—wait, this is Paul. Of course he’d love to see you naked.” They all broke into laughter. Tracy and Regina didn’t quite get it as much as Claire and Rhees, but they laughed all the same. “I’m getting married! I’m marrying Paul Weaver.” Rhees suddenly felt weak in the knees and had to sit in one of the

seats. She took a deep breath and then looked up at Claire with desperation in her eyes. “Am I doing the right thing? What if he realizes this is all just a big mistake? He’ll resent me.” “Not going to happen.” “You an idiot or something?” Regina asked, livid. “Go out there and get yourself married to that beautiful man while you can. Who cares if he changes his mind, it will be too late. I sure as hell would not never let him off the fishhook. I would squeeze every second I could possible squeeze out of that man.” “Possibly squeeze,” Tracy corrected.

“Oh, Regina. I love you. I hope you know that.” Rhees jumped up and gave her a hug, imagining how Regina must feel to know she’d be watching Rhees, her own friend, walk down the aisle to marry the man of her dreams, the man Regina wanted but could never have. “Of course I know that. I am not a stupid girl. Even I can see you are better for him . . . than even I could be.” Regina gave her a sly smile. “If it was not the truth, I would have poisoned you long ago.” “Thank you for looking out for him all this time, before I got here. It means a lot to me to know you’ve always been his guardian angel.”

Regina’s eyes grew teary. She nodded and her lips quivered before she boldly stated, “But now you had better take care of him. I still have poison. And, just so that you are guaranteed, if I ever have the circumstance to have an affair with your husband, you can bet your ass I will unquestionably be going to do it.” “You will unquestionably do it,” Tracy corrected again. “And if you ever have the opportunity to have an affair—” “Shut up your big mouth, Tracy. Rhees knows what I mean.” Rhees opened her arm to invite Tracy into the hug. “Me too,” Tracy said. “I’d have an

affair with Paul, too, if the opportunity ever presented itself.” She eyed Regina with a shrug. “Putting it out there, just in case.” “Understood,” Rhees said, giving them both a squeeze. “But keep in mind. I can probably get a hold of some poison too.” “If I ever catch him having an affair with anyone,” Claire cut in, “I’ll be poisoning Paul.” They all giggled and hugged each other. “She does not have nothing to be worried about,” Regina said. “Paul’s eyes are only for Rhees now. I have pictures of him, the way he looks at her. He’ll never want anyone else again.”

Regina reached for her camera. “I will add those to the wedding pictures, the ones of you looking at him too.” She made a googly-eyed face, poking fun at Rhees, and they all laughed, knowing how often they’d seen the two lovebirds stealing glimpses of each other. “I’m going to let everyone know you’re ready.” Claire sighed with resignation. “I say it’s time to make this happen . . . Finally!” She gave Rhees a wink. Tracy and Regina had no idea just how finally it was going to be. oOo The setting didn’t allow for Rhees to

be unseen by the groom before she actually walked down the aisle, or up the pyramid in this case. Claire improvised by gathering everyone around the bus door as though Rhees coming down the steps would be like her appearing at the door of a chapel. She lined everyone into two rows so Rhees would have to walk down an aisle made of guests, to reach Paul at the end. Tracy opened the bus door and all eyes turned to Rhees, but her gaze went straight to Paul, waiting for assurance he approved of her dress. He didn’t show any reaction for several seconds and Rhees started to worry. They locked eyes while her fingers fidgeted with the

fabric on the skirt of her dress. Paul stared expressionless until his eyelids seemed to grow heavy for his glazed-over eyes, his lips parted with a quick brush of his tongue and slowly cracked into a pleased, reverent smile. He closed his eyes as if committing her to memory and she couldn’t help but smile when it looked like he grunted his signature, “Mm!” When he re-opened his eyes, a dazzling smile spread across his beautiful face and he mouthed a kiss to assure her he approved. The bodice of her white dress fit perfectly snug, embellished by a scrolling white on white pattern, almost

sleeveless with only a hint of a cap sleeve hanging just over her shoulders. The neckline scalloped from her shoulders and cut down to just the top of her cleavage. Soft, flouncy fabric draped from her waist as it fell to just above her knees in the front but tapered longer, mid-calf in the back. She wore white sandals and even though she would have preferred a heel, Paul wouldn’t let her risk climbing the steep steps of the pyramid in anything but flats. Her hair had been styled simply. She’d twisted two strands of hair at her temples and tied them in the back with a thin white ribbon. Small white flowers weaved into the twists making the whole

sum of her appearance simple but classic. She made her way to him, through the gauntlet, it seemed, but she stayed focused on her man to keep the jitters to a minimum. Paul wore black dress pants that hung ever so nicely on his tall masculine frame, a suit coat to match his pants, and white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, tucked in. She always thought she liked it un-tucked, but he looked so good. He wore black dress shoes, no belt. Casual for the rest of the world, but for Paul, he looked a little too civilized, but she wasn’t about to complain. He could have worn the bundling bag he always joked about, and he would still be beautiful.

Mrs. Michaels reached out and drew her in for a hug just before she reached the groom. Rhees still couldn’t believe Paul had arranged for her to be there. He’d asked David to come, via Utah, and accompany the old woman on the trip. David had not only agreed, but he and Bryce had started a friendly banter over who she should prefer as company, both of them treated her like royalty, escorting her everywhere, tending to her every need, and making her laugh like a schoolgirl with the way they playfully flirted with the old woman. Taylor had shared his prediction with Paul; that they were looking for a connection to Utah.

They were hoping Mrs. Michaels would be their ticket to finding their own Rhees-like girls. “I’m so happy for you, and this is the best darned wedding I’ve ever attended,” she whispered into Rhees’ ear. Rhees squeezed her back and then turned to get to her awaiting man, who took her into his arms and kissed her, forgetting where they were. “Hey! You can’t do that yet!” Taylor yelled. Paul grinned sheepishly, Rhees blushed, and they both looked down, embarrassed, but stealing glances at each other. He set her hand in the crook of his elbow and led the way to the

pyramid with everyone following a few steps behind. On the way, he pulled the ring box from his pocket. “I want to show you the rings now— so you aren’t taken by surprise during the ceremony.” They’d originally decided to return to the jeweler a week later, to try again to find something they could agree on, but they never did. Paul announced he’d decided to go with plan A. ‘I’m choosing the ring, and you’ll have to pretend to like it’. She never did see what he’d picked out. He nervously opened the box. “Paul, it’s huge.” She stopped walking and stared at everything she’d

said she didn’t want. She looked, not only disappointed, but heartbroken, and he knew she thought he’d totally disregarded her feelings on the matter. “Give me a second to explain.” He stopped too, and everyone behind them paused, trying to pretend they didn’t notice the bride and groom having a bit of a problem. Paul leaned down so his face touched hers while he held the box in her line of vision. Two rings sat nestled in the velvetcovered foam. The enormous one, her ring, had three bands. The two outer bands were simple strands of smooth platinum. The center band, also platinum, was wider with a line of small

square diamonds inset along the top half of the band. It ran under a ridiculously large, square, French cut diamond solitaire with a halo of diamonds, which matched the inset row of gems in the center band. “Look. Before you freak out, let me explain what I was thinking.” Her hand flew to cover her mouth as if she needed to, as a precaution, to be sure she wouldn’t say anything, holding back the scolding she wanted to give him, or to hide the fact that she was one breath away from breaking into disheartened tears. He kissed her softly on the forehead before pointing to the large statement piece, watching her

carefully. “Keep an open mind,” he begged. “Today, I want to put this ring on your finger. I’d like you to wear it for the wedding . . . and maybe the honeymoon.” He looked at her with a worried, questioning expression. “I’m sorry, but I feel this overwhelming need to mark my territory, but mostly, to show the world that, yes, you were actually willing to marry my sorry ass.” Her mouth tightened into a thin line to hide the smile playing on her lips despite her disappointment. “When we get home, we’ll put this part . . .” He pulled on the mammoth diamond and it came out with the

attached, two outer bands, but the middle piece remained in the box with the other ring. He held the oversized diamond section up for her to see. “After the honeymoon, this part goes in the safe, and you’ll never have to wear it again, if you don’t want to.” He held the box up again. The two rings still in the box looked like matching wedding bands, but the bigger one looked more masculine. “You said you didn’t want bling any more than I did,” she said, trying not to pout. “I didn’t, but it’s what you wanted, and I have a very hard time telling you no.”

“No, you don’t.” She tilted her head with an, I’m-on-to-you-look. He couldn’t help his smile. “Yeah, I do. I can, when it’s important, but believe me.” He leaned in close to her ear. “He’s been very, very hard.” “You mean, it’s been hard. . .” Her face contorted into embarrassment as she realized that what she’d said wasn’t any better. “I was talking about all the times you try to tell me I can’t go someplace or do something.” “Sorry, I know you meant that I can be kind of bossy, but I couldn’t help it— one track mind, lately. Anyway, back to the rings.”

“These aren’t too bad, right?” He brought her attention back to the wedding bands, holding the box up to make sure she got a good look. “Just enough flash for both of us, but not too much, don’t you think? I have a little bling, you have a little bling. They match. You said you wanted matching rings.” He stared at the rings as he played with them, nervously awaiting her verdict. “And it won’t hurt your feelings when that redonkulously, colossommoth diamond never comes out of the safe again?” she asked. He shook his head, still anxious about what she thought of his plan, but

then he grinned at her description. “You spent a lot of money to have that sitting in the safe for the rest of our lives. How much? You know I’d be happy if you just put a twisty-tie on my finger.” He stared off with a blank look on his face, counting to ten. His mouth twitched a few times before he turned a stern gaze back to her. “You can-nawt hassle your husband-to-be about spending money on the wedding ring. I’ll never tell, so just drop it . . . but you’re worth every penny . . . in the world.” She looked him in the eyes, for too long, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake. He finally shrugged.

“Maybe you could wear it on our anniversaries if that makes you feel better. It would make me feel good.” He glanced down, feeling a little insecure under her scrutinizing gaze. He wondered how she always managed to make him feel so off-balance, so different from the arrogant son-of-abitch he knew he was. He loved it. Her shoulders relaxed and she took the box with the two matching bands from him to get a closer look. They were beautiful, and the fact they matched really touched her. He’d balked at the jeweler’s every time she’d insisted he needed something just as flashy as what

he expected her to wear. He’d said it would be too girly, but she wanted him wearing something noticeable enough to ward off other girls. These rings really were the perfect compromise. “I love them,” she finally said. “They’re perfect, like you. I should have known I could trust you.” “I got lucky. I’ll never be perfect, so don’t get all trusty-crazy on me.” He grinned all shy and insecure. “If I kiss you, they’re going to make a big deal out of it again, aren’t they,” she asked with a toss of her head toward their wedding guests. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they will.” His smile matched the glory of the sun,

which happened to be close to setting. “Okay, I’ll have to show you how happy you’ve made me later, tonight.” She bit her lower lip and looked up at him through her lashes. “Mm!” he grunted. He handed the ring box off to Taylor and took her arm again as they began climbing the steps up the pyramid. “Mrs. Michaels,” Rhees gasped, suddenly worried about how her older friend would manage the steep stairs. “We’ve got it covered,” Paul assured, understanding her concern. They both turned to check on Mrs. Michaels just as David and Bryce lifted her in a combined effort and carried her

up. Mrs. Michaels giggled and gushed at the attention from the strong, younger men, enjoying every second of the attention. “You’ve thought of everything.” Rhees leaned her head against Paul’s shoulder to let him know how he’d touched her heart. The stone structure wasn’t as tall as some in the area, but the ancient inhabitants had built it on a high cliff overlooking the ocean. The breathtaking view seemed the perfect setting for the two of them to start their new life together. The wide, flat platform at the top accommodated the guests, giving everyone enough room to stand during

the short and to the point ceremony. Not quite as quick as a Justice of the Peace, but again, a perfect compromise. Regina, the official photographer, in spite of the short ceremony, somehow managed to get over a hundred shots before Paul protectively led Rhees down the steps again, their guests right behind. Outside the walls of the ancient city, the locals had set up the plaza to accommodate a dinner and reception with a band and a dance floor. People from other buses wandered the fringes, spying on the festivities, while the bride and groom, and guests, ran through the customary wedding traditions, the toasting, the roasting—Taylor really let

Paul have it. Paul and Rhees cut the cake and danced their first dance as a married couple to their song, “Everything”, by Lifehouse. The fabric of Rhees’ dress spread out when Paul twirled her, and she felt like Cinderella, dancing with her prince. Paul somehow, on purpose, had lost his shoes at some point, and Rhees almost drooled at how sexy he looked wearing a suit, barefoot. oOo Once the obligatory ceremonial rituals were over, the bar opened up and the real party began. Paul slipped away while the male guests kept Rhees busy

by dancing with the bride. When Paul returned, he grabbed Taylor and pulled him aside. “Will you and the guys keep an eye on things at the party? I’m sneaking Rhees out of here on another bus. It’s leaving in a few minutes. Our—your bus won’t leave for another two hours.” “What’s the hurry?” Taylor asked. “It’s not like you haven’t been there, done that. You’ll be there, doing that the rest of your life. Stay and enjoy your party.” He waited for Paul’s reaction. Paul didn’t give him one. “You haven’t, have you?” Taylor shook his head, as if disappointed in his friend. “I can’t believe she won the prize

by holding out on you—and you fell for it. Pussy.” Paul exhaled. “It isn’t like that.” “Oh, really?” Taylor laughed. “Tell me what it’s like then, sucker.” “You saw the way she reacted when you tried to hug her in Costa Rica. She’s not holding out to win any prize—I’m no prize, it’s just—” “No one’s that fucking special. Jesus Christ! You fucking married her. I know you and your promises, but you’re stuck with her now. I hope she’s good, because she’s all you’ll ever get from here on out.” “I love her, Taye. I love her.” “I know.” A forced grin twisted

Taylor’s mouth. “I’m just messing with you, Bro. I don’t understand it, but even I can see she makes you happy.” Taylor looked off for a second, contemplating something with a sad, thoughtful look on his face. “And after your mad, mad years of living crazily with that dangerous, fucking bitch, Ginger, I like seeing you happy and at peace, finally.” “I wasn’t in my right mind.” “No kidding. But are you sure being with Rhees isn’t swinging the pendulum a little too far the other way?” Paul looked up at the evening sky with a huge, contented smile on his face. “I’m sure,” Paul said. “I’m probably

about as close to where I should be as I’m ever going to get.” They gave each other a man-hug, bumping chests with their fisted hands between them to make sure they didn’t accidentally have any intimate contact, and slapping each other’s backs with their other hands. David and Bryce showed up just in time to join their powwow with more banter, fist bumps, and arm slugs as they said their good-byes, until the next time they got together. oOo Claire listened intently, fascinated as one of the caretakers at the ruins shared his knowledge of the tourist site.

“Excuse me. I need this woman.” Paul snatched her away abruptly, leaving the caretaker wondering how he’d lost his audience so quickly. Paul, shoes on once again, danced Claire across the floor to where Rhees danced with Dobbs. “Time to trade partners,” Paul said. “I’m sneaking Rhees out of here on a different bus. It’s leaving sooner than ours.” Paul flashed his brows up and down, while wearing a salacious smile, suggesting how eager he felt to get his bride alone. Rhees looked almost horrified at his blatant portrayal of an impatient groom. “The driver agreed to let us stow-

away since his bus is nearly empty.” “You okay with leaving now?” Paul asked Rhees, nearly pleading with his eyes. She blushed but nodded. “You’re ditching your own party?” Dobbs sounded gruff and disapproving until his wife shocked him. “Can we come?” Claire asked, beseeching with an overdramatic, hopeful expression. “I’ve been a good sport all day, but if there’s a way out of here early, I’m all over that.” Paul’s eyes turned cold at the suggestion, words failed him. Claire laughed. “I really just want to get home. I promise you won’t even know we’re there. We’ll leave you two alone at the

back of the bus—we’ll even run interference for you, keep anyone else from sneaking up on you. You can be as wedding night-ish as you want.” “Okay.” Paul nodded, looking to be thinking it through and almost missed the smirk Claire and Dobbs gave each other. “What?” “Anxious?” they chided. “You’d think you’ve never done this before.” “I haven’t,” Paul said in mock seriousness, but then grinned. “Yeah, I’m anxious—but what about you, the old married couple. Do all married people wind up with such nasty minds?” “Yes.” Claire didn’t hesitate with her answer and Dobbs shot her a

confused glance. “Let’s get out of here,” Claire said, taking Dobbs’ arm and pulling him to follow Paul, who had Rhees in tow. The poor girl could barely keep up. She leaned into her husband and whispered, “Paul really is anxious.” oOo The driver of their original bus helped Paul and Rhees switch their luggage to their new ride. The bus doors closed after the four of them boarded and the bus groaned to life as the driver shoved the shift knob into gear. Claire and Dobbs headed toward the first empty seats mid-bus while Paul ushered

Rhees toward the back where no one sat. “You people aren’t supposed to be on this bus,” said a tall, lanky man with dark hair, graying at the temples. He stood and repeated what he’d just said when Paul and Dobbs turned to look at him. The man, a North American, turned to the driver. “These people aren’t supposed to be on this bus.” “It is no problem,” the driver answered. “All the buses belong to the same company. We all end up at the same place, and we have more than enough room.” “No!” the man shouted. “They can’t be on this bus.” “Hey, man. I just got married.” Paul

held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “I’m sure you can understand why we’d like to get back to the honeymoon suite.” Paul tried to sound friendly, and funny, to diffuse the man’s unreasonable objections. It didn’t seem to work. The man protested again. “Señor, it is not a problem. Our buses share riders all the time.” The driver let the clutch out and the bus pulled away from the parking lot. Paul and the man engaged in an eye duel as Dobbs and Claire slinked into seats eight rows back in the nearly empty bus. Rhees headed to the very back, hoping the man would calm down before

Paul lost his temper. “Paul, come sit down, please,” Rhees called. The last thing she wanted was Paul sitting in jail for beating a crabby man on their wedding night. “Sit down, James.” The woman sitting next to the man put her hand on his arm. “Why do you always have to be such a jerk? They just got married. Leave them alone.” “Just anxious to get my bride alone, man.” Paul gave the man one last shrug and turned to get back to Rhees. It didn’t take long for his cold glaring eyes to soften when he took in the sight of his beautiful girl, his wife.

Chapter 5 the h-heck was I thinking? “W hat It’s almost three hours back to the city.” Paul snorted at his mistake. Already antsy, they were only thirty

minutes into the ride. “It’s closer to two and a half.” He raised an eyebrow at her to let her know she wasn’t helping. “Anticipation,” she mouthed seductively and then giggled. “Like Christmas, remember?” “Anticipation is the absolute pits! I’m ready to rip the fu—freaking wrapping to shreds.” He took the fabric of her dress between his fingers and gave her a devious look to make her wonder if he really would. “You wouldn’t!” “You sure?” One corner of his mouth hitched up into his crooked smile when she bit her lower lip, revealing she

wasn’t. They spent the next hour staring at each other, holding hands, grinning nervously, keeping their conversation light and easy—pretending like the sexual tension wasn’t thick enough to cut. “Your dress turned out so beautiful. I’m amazed you made this yourself. You amaze me, always.” Paul rubbed the soft fabric of the skirt between his fingers. She watched as he moved his hands up toward the bodice and lightly outlined the pattern in the cloth, working his way up to the fabric around her neckline. He started back down, his eyes trailing his own hand as it worked its way down the

scalloped edge from her shoulder until he reached the V at her cleavage. His lips twitched, ever so slightly, as he slowly dipped his index finger between her breasts. He glanced up to check, to see what she thought about it. She didn’t shy away, so he added another finger and went deeper with a breathy moan, expressing his pleasure, before trailing them up the side of her breast. He closed his eyes, taking in the magnificent sensation of its fullness. “I love you. You know that, right?” he whispered, leaning his mouth so close to her ear the air tickled, but she didn’t move except to nod. “And that my

feelings for you have nothing to do with sexual desire. What I feel for you is real —so deep in my heart. It’s not just biology. I was such a fool to ever think that way.” He brushed his lips lightly along her cheek and ended at her lips with a loving, respectful kiss. “But that said . . .” He pulled away to look lovingly into her eyes, knowing she thought he would continue with his sweet declaration, but he had other things on his mind. “I cannaaawt waaait to get you back to the hotel!” He took her face in both hands and kissed her reverently again, one long, chaste kiss, but then he wasn’t so chaste

anymore. His hand smoothed down her body, to the hem of her dress, and found skin just below her knee. He leisurely caressed her silky thigh, up and down, a little farther up her leg with each stroke, methodically pushing up the abundant soft fabric of her dress as he went. He closed his eyes and broke their kiss with a heavy exhale when his fingers reached the top and brushed against her panties. His gaze suddenly darted down to take a look, making her gasp, unable to disguise her nervousness. “You’re ready.” It came out in a strong puff. He seemed surprised, gazing into her eyes in awe. “Oh, Dani Girl, I

can’t believe it’s finally all right for me to do this.” “We’re doing this now?” Her eyes widened and flashed with a hint of uncertainty. He smiled and shook his head. “No. I don’t want to blow this—just building anticipation.” “Anticipation is the pits,” she said, breathlessly. His smile nearly radiated at her response. “I know, right?” His smile was so wide, his mouth couldn’t twitch, but his tongue swished over his lips more than usual, the way his tic manifested itself when he was giddily happy. “You’re nervous,” she huffed,

nervously. “How can you be nervous? You can’t blow it—can you?” Paul saw the fear in her eyes and his smile turned bashful. “First time, remember?” He kissed her forehead and forced himself to calm down. “I’ve pictured it. For so long, I’ve dreamed about it. I want to go nice and slow, but . . . it’s been so long. I’m so worked up, I want you so bad.” He brought his fingers up to his nose and inhaled. “Mmm . . . heavenly.” “You won’t blow it—I want you too. Knowing we’re finally going to be together—is it that good? I’ve always been so nervous about it—sex—is it heavenly?”

He slipped back into respect mode and took her hand in his. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles, and then held her hand against his face. “I’m stupid. He is trying to run the show, and I haven’t done enough to stop him. I’m sorry, Baby. For your—our first time, I’m going to do everything I can to make it—” Rhees didn’t understand why Paul stopped abruptly to look over her, out the window, when they heard a loud bang and the bus jerked. He stood and leaned over her to get a better look. “Oh, no . . . no.” He shook his head, all the color had drained from his face.

“No, no, no, no, no.” He sounded like he’d just received the worst news in his life. He sat back down. “What is it?” she asked, she couldn’t help but feel alarmed. She’d never seen him so scared. He closed his eyes to think, but then opened them again and stared grimly at Rhees. He looked scared, but more for her than himself. “Paul?” “We’ll be okay, Baby. Don’t panic.” He dragged his backpack out from under the seat and pulled out a stack of money, trying not to panic himself. He looked around, touching the seats, tugging on the fabric here and there, as if looking for something.

“Paul, what’s wrong?” Rhees looked out the window and saw an old topless jeep driving alongside the bus. The men in the jeep held military assault rifles, trying to head the bus off, but the bus driver had already pressed the accelerator, trying to get away from them. She looked back at Paul, unwilling to process what she already knew. He’d torn a small hole in the fabric under his seat and began stuffing his cash inside. “How much money do you have on you?” “I didn’t bring any. You said you’d take care of it. Why?” “Here’s eighty dollars. Put it in your pack. That should look normal. Rhees,”

he said with a frown, staring intently into her eyes. “We’re dive bums. We’re not the owners of the shop, got that?” She nodded, confused. “What are they going to do to us? They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” Rhees felt the panic rising inside, but she kept focused on Paul, wondering how he could stay so calm as he ran through the motions, doing things that didn’t make sense to her. They heard another crack and felt a jolt. The people at the front of the bus began yelling and screaming. Dobbs and Claire made their way to the back of the bus. “How much money do you guys have

on you?” Paul barked. “I don’t know,” Dobbs said. “Sixty-three dollars,” Claire answered. “Here’s another sixty.” Paul sounded mechanical. “That’s still normal.” He handed them three twenty-dollar bills before getting back to stuffing all his money into the upholstery around them. He’d kept a hundred and forty dollars for himself, and shoved it into his backpack. “Paul, what are you talking about?” Rhees asked. “What are you doing? Why are you stuffing all your money in the seats?” “Because it’s too much. Dive bums

don’t carry around eight hundred dollars, cash.” The three of them gave him a strange look. “The honeymoon. Tips, taxis, food.” Paul ran his hand through his hair, twice. “We’re being hijacked. We have to hope they’ll just rob us and set us on foot.” Paul stared at Dobbs. Dobbs understood, Claire too—it took a second, but she caught on. “What’s going to happen?” Rhees knew she sounded scared, but they were leaving her out of some kind of communication. Paul grabbed for her and kissed the top of her head. “They’re going to run us off the road, rob us, and as long as no one on the bus is worth kidnapping,

they’ll shoot up the bus and leave us to walk. That’s why we’re just dive bums, okay? We’re just dive bums.” He sighed as he took her hand, the one with her wedding ring. He pulled it off and separated the large diamond section from the wedding band. He slipped the band back on her finger and gave her a quick kiss. “The way we’re dressed—they’ll know. Dive bums don’t give their wives three-karat diamond rings when they get married.” He scowled. “The bands are a little closer to what we should be able to afford, but this diamond . . .” He knew it wasn’t really true. The bands alone were worth thousands, but it

would have to do. He watched her. Concern ate away at his ability to stay calm. “You’re in a wedding dress. I’m . . . almost wearing a suit. It’ll look suspicious, be worse if we don’t have rings at all.” He opened the door of the small bathroom in the back corner of the bus and flushed the diamond down the toilet. He leaned down and gave Rhees another quick hug and a kiss. “I love you. Never forget that.” He made his way to the front of the bus. “They’re going to overtake us?” Paul squatted next to the driver. “Yes.” “Keep them off as long as you can.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” the bus driver growled. Paul patted the man on the shoulder and turned to the handful of people in the front. “Are you all from the States?” Everyone nodded. “We’re being hijacked. These guys are looking for money. They’ll rob us, your money, jewelry, cameras, that kind of thing. If you have more than about three hundred dollars on you, get rid of it.” He looked around. “Here, stuff it in here.” He pointed to a tear in the rubber floor of the aisle. “If that hole fills up, gets too bulky, find another hole, someplace else to hide it. They’ll search the bus, but I don’t think they’ll look—”

He paused, puckering his mouth. “They may be looking for people to ransom too. I don’t care what you do back in the States, but today, you’re all volunteers. You’ve been here digging wells. Got that? You’re all teachers, receptionists, clerks . . . for your charity organization. Stick with that and I think we’ll get through this.” “How do you know about this?” someone asked. Paul took a second to answer. “I’ve been in this stinking country for a while. This shit happens much too often.” The tall lanky man, James, started cursing. “Who the hell are you? You’re not even supposed to be on this bus. You

can’t come on here, telling us what to do.” Paul sneered, tried to rein in his rage, for a second, but lost the battle and grabbed the man, lifting him up by his shirt. “If you want to walk away from this alive, you’ll listen to me,” he hissed. James didn’t argue and Paul let go of him with a little shove. James sat down and seemed to be more willing to play along. “Volunteers come down here all the time. These hijackers are familiar with the charity groups who organize these trips. They know the charities don’t have money. If you’re anything besides a volunteer, they may think they can

ransom you, extort money from you, your family back home, your company, whoever it is that you really work for.” Paul put his hands on his hips and looked down, apologetically. “I just got married. I want to love my bride for the rest of my life. I need your help . . . I want that to be more than just tonight.” He looked up to see Rhees watching him. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she finally understood how scared Paul really was. They rushed to each other and embraced. The bus jerked again, knocking them down, but Paul managed to guide their fall into one of the seats with only a bruise to his hip from the armrest. They refused to let go of each

other. “Thank you for loving me,” Paul whispered, and braced Rhees, holding on to her desperately as the bus careened out of control. oOo The hijackers grew tired of the chase and eventually shot the driver. He died instantly and the bus lurched, hit a rock, and would have tipped on its side if it weren’t for the dense trees it fell against, holding it at an angle while the high ended wheels continued to spin. Paul clutched Rhees protectively as the men with guns forced their way onto the bus and demanded everyone get out.

The passengers were lined up along the road, their hands behind their heads as a couple of the hijackers frisked them, taking everything from their pockets, bags, and purses. Two more hijackers were in the bus, ransacking everything, looking for valuables. One more hijacker, a huge, heavy built man with a big belly, stood guard, watching the scene with his gun ready. The men were cruel and vicious as they made their way down the line putting cell phones in one bag and valuables in another. They spoke Spanish and Rhees was the only one of the dive shop crew who didn’t understand what they were saying.

“They’re going to touch you, Baby. You’ll have to hold it together, okay?” Paul cooed, reassuringly. “Okay.” Her answer was clipped as she braced herself for what was about to happen. “You can do this, you’re—” “Tough as nails. I know,” she snapped. “Don’t worry so much about me! We’re all in trouble here. I’m not the only one.” She sounded feisty and Paul took it as a good sign. The men made it down the line, reached them, and took their phones. Next, they took the new wedding bands. Rhees had no pockets and her backpack

had next to nothing inside, but the men spent as much time searching her as they did the others. Paul didn’t mind how roughly they handled him as they made him empty his pockets and his backpack, but it took every bit of restraint he possessed to watch them maul his bride, their hands taking a little more time than necessary as they frisked her body, yelling abusively at her, in Spanish. She closed her eyes to fend off the panic, he thought, and they yelled at her to open them again. She didn’t understand the command. “Norteamericano?” the hijacker asked. Rhees nodded. She understood that

much, but not what he asked next, so he screamed it, twice. “Que hacer?” “It’s okay, Baby,” he whispered. Paul blurted the answer, in English, trying to save her from more abuse. “We’re dive masters on the island off the coast. All of us—the four of us.” He talked very loud and slow as he waved four fingers at the men and gestured that the four of them were together. “We no ha-blo es-pan-ish.” He made sure to pronounce it very American-like and not quite right. Vy-vo on is-lando. We have no-thing of value.” Paul grimaced as he took a fist to his

rib cage before the men moved on to Claire and Dobbs at the end of the line. He turned to Rhees and gave her a cocky wink to make sure she wouldn’t worry about him. Claire and Dobbs didn’t know why Paul didn’t want the hijackers to know they were fluent, but they followed his lead and acted like they didn’t understand what the men were saying. Once the bus and all the passengers were searched, one of the hijackers took off in the jeep while the others ushered the hostages into the jungle. They were marched at gunpoint through the rain forest, and Paul knew that couldn’t be good.

“Where’re we going? You have all our valuables. Let us go, no harm done,” the oldest man of the group said, but one of the men hit him between his shoulder blades with the butt of his rifle, knocking him to one knee. He staggered back to his feet and cursed at the men. The passengers were herded mercilessly through the jungle for over an hour. Paul grew increasingly ill by the minute as he was forced to listen to the men make comments about Rhees, the pretty bride, and how they all believed they could make her wedding night extra special. He waited for his chance and then draped his suit coat over her. “I’m fine. I’m not cold.”

“Wear it, please.” He tipped his chin toward one of the hijackers, the big one, and she nodded in understanding without further explanation. When it grew too dark to keep going, the captors stopped and directed the hostages into two small groups, the men in one and the women on the other side of the small clearing about fifteen feet away. There were nine prisoners besides Paul, Rhees, and the Dobbsons. James, the tall lanky man and his wife, Julia, were in their mid-forties. An older couple, Frank looked to be in his seventies but still seemed to have an edge about him, carrying himself confidently, but his wife, Judy, was a

nervous wreck, blubbering and whimpering the whole time. Their daughter, James’ wife, did her best to comfort the older woman, but it was a lost cause. Another forty-ish woman, and a couple with their two teenage sons were also part of the group. Except for the Paradise group, the others all seemed to know each other. “Does anyone speak Spanish besides me?” James asked the other men in his huddle. One of the hijackers stood about six feet away from the prisoners, standing guard with an assault rifle while the other hijackers sat in a circle on the other side of the clearing. One by one,

they smashed the phones while they carried on a serious conversation, but Paul couldn’t hear what they said as they spoke in hushed tones. “You know we don’t, James!” Frank’s tone sounded gruff. “I told you I didn’t want to be dragged down here to this godforsaken country in the middle of nowhere, where none of us can understand a God-damned thing any of these people are saying.” Dobbs looked at Paul to see how he planned to answer. Paul shook his head slightly and Dobbs continued to play along, not knowing why, but trusting him. “I was asking the other people, Frank.” James tried to sound pleasant,

but Paul picked up on the resentment he felt for his father-in-law. “The ones who weren’t supposed to be on the bus.” Paul and Dobbs shook their heads and both looked over at their women. Paul tried to smile at Rhees. He winked again. She smiled back, trying to be brave for him. “All right, then,” James said. “I’m going to go talk to them, see if I can figure out what they plan to do with us, try to talk them into letting us go.” “Don’t be stupid, James,” Frank said. “I can already answer that for you. I was a Marine for crying out loud— don’t have to speak Spanish to figure it out. We need to fight back.”

“With what, Frank? Sticks, against assault rifles?” James argued. The look on the older man’s face showed he wasn’t used to anyone arguing with him. “We did what you said. Look how well that turned out,” James turned on Paul. “Those men have no idea that Frank owns a billion-dollar company.” He jumped up and headed toward the hijackers. Paul and Frank tried to grab him, stop him, but they missed, and everyone held their breath. Paul watched, sure James was about to be killed on the spot, but the hijackers allowed him to approach—too readily. Paul strained to listen.

oOo “What’s taking you so long? Just get it over with,” James said in Spanish. Dobbs glanced at Paul. It didn’t sound like the kind of thing a hostage would say when pleading for his captors to release him. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you get the other half of your money.” James seemed too comfortable, too familiar with the men. “We’ve been discussing the matter,” the big hijacker said. “You see, you agreed to pay us the rest of the money after you are named the new owner of the company, but police reports, funerals, legalities—those things take

time, and you never know how many hiccups there could be along the way. So, we’re wondering why we’re wasting time with you and the small amount of money you agreed to pay us when we have the current owner of the company, Frank Cannon, in our possession.” Paul’s eyes shot to Frank. “You’re Frank Cannon . . . from Vermont?” Frank nodded, wondering how Paul could know, and why it mattered at that moment. Paul hung his head and puckered his mouth several times. “We have a deal. I already paid you half,” James yelled. “Just kill them and I’ll get you the other half a million as soon as I’m named president of the

company and collect on their insurance policies.” “The price has gone up,” the big man said, simply. “No! We had a deal. You agreed.” The men laughed. “The problem with these kinds of deals is the type of people you have to make them with. If we were men of integrity, we wouldn’t have agreed to murder your wife and inlaws. Backing out on a deal is nothing, compared to what you want us to do,” one of them said. “So, we’ve been discussing the situation,” the big hijacker continued. “I think we’ll get more money if we deal with Mr. Frank Cannon, himself. I think

the man would be willing to pay more for his life, and the lives of his family, than you are willing to pay to greedily acquire what he already has.” The big man scratched his beard and looked thoughtful as if trying to solve a puzzle. “We don’t need you at all.” James turned pale. “You can’t do that! You wouldn’t have him in your possession if it weren’t for me. I got him here, I got everyone here . . . the witnesses . . . I-I brought friends—to give honest witness accounts to the police. None of them would be here if it weren’t for me. I booked the trip. I chartered the bus, I came up with the perfect plan—we have a deal!”

“It was a very good plan. We appreciate your help.” “Yes! I did my part. I already paid you half. Kill them—in front of the others. I don’t care what you do to the extra people who showed up unexpectedly. More witnesses—or actually, it’d look more believable if you killed them too. It wouldn’t be just the Cannons. Yes. It’ll look less suspicious —yes, that’s it, don’t you see? You need me. I’m the mastermind. I’m smarter than you, any of you. Stick to my plan—it’s the perfect plan.” The giant man clicked his tongue at James’ gutless display and raised his rifle, pointing it at the groveling man.

The other hijackers stared at James without emotion and watched as he slowly came undone. “My brain may not be as smart as yours,” the big man said, “but I do have a big gun. I’d rather have a big gun.” “You can’t do this! We had a deal!” James fell to his knees, begging. The big man pulled the trigger and James dropped, dead. The women all screamed and the men gasped in shock, realizing they could all die. Paul and Dobbs looked at each other, understanding what they’d both just heard. Paul exhaled loudly. “Mr. Cannon, I’ll give you—” Paul leaned into Mr.

Cannon’s ear and whispered a number, “—dollars to get my wife and friends out of this.” Mr. Cannon stared at Paul like he was crazy. “But you’re a dive bum.” “I am now.” Paul closed his eyes, about to divulge a terrible secret. “My name is Paul Weaver.” Frank’s eyes grew wide. “Laird Weaver? That son-of-a-bitch!” Paul hung his head and Frank’s eyes grew even wider, if that were possible. “Then why don’t you get us the hell out of here?” Paul looked defeated. “I don’t think my dad would give one cent to get me back.” Frank considered what Paul said.

“Why not?” Paul glanced at him and would have smirked if the situation weren’t so grave. “Because, I’m a dive bum . . . now.” Frank registered understanding, but it didn’t soften the expression on his face. “Why the hell would I help you?” “I didn’t ask you to.” Paul closed his eyes for a second, desperate to convince the older man to help. “But my wife . . . she doesn’t deserve to die because of me —she’s a good person—more than good.” Paul’s voice broke a little. “Please. And my friends, they don’t deserve—” “What am I supposed to do?” “They’re going to ransom you and

your family. Please, add my wife and friends to the list—for the price. James set this up to take over your company after your death.” “How do you know all this? You’re in on it—again!” Frank paused to think. “Wait. You speak the language, don’t you? Why the hell didn’t you say so?” Paul looked down and shook his head in shame. “It’s a habit I learned as a kid. If you don’t talk, people assume you don’t understand. You learn a lot more by listening than having anything to say.” Frank stared at Paul again, seemingly unsure if he should be angry or impressed.

“Your son-in-law offered them a million dollars to kill you, your wife, and daughter. The hijackers figured out that you probably think your life is worth more than what James was willing to pay.” “I’m not giving them a red cent!” “It’s your money or your life!” Paul exhaled forcefully. “No one is getting out of here alive unless you play along. Do you understand?” Paul glanced over at James’ body. Frank did too, reminded of the gravity of their circumstances. “Please, when this is over, tell Rhees I promised you the money. She’ll honor my promise. I only ask that you leave her enough to live a comfortable

life . . .” Paul felt cheerless and despairing, but he couldn’t help but chuckle warmly at the thought of his Rhees. “That won’t take much. She’s a hopeless cheapskate.” With serious eyes again, he looked back to Frank. “Please don’t hold me or my dad against her. She’s never even met him, and she’s too innocent and trusting to see me for what I am.” “James did this then.” It was a statement, not a question. Frank looked sickened, but not surprised. “Sometimes you just have no control over who you have to call family.” He shook his head and gave Paul a sympathetic acknowledgment. “I was

going to leave the company to him—not that I wanted to, but my daughter is my only heir, and she’s never been interested in business.” He patted Paul on the back. “Keep your money. I’ll do anything I can to get all of us out of here. Think they’ll be satisfied with just money?” Paul hadn’t allowed himself anywhere near that question. He stared blankly at Frank, who’d turned his attention to Rhees. “The big guy hasn’t taken his eyes off your new bride.” “I know,” Paul huffed in an anguished burst. “Shut up,” the big man screamed in

Spanish when he finally noticed two of the male hostages having a serious discussion. He raised his rifle to indicate what he had in mind if they didn’t stop talking. He didn’t come across as a reasonable man. oOo “It’s going to be all right, mom. Please, you need to calm down.” “Dead. He’s dead,” Judy blubbered. “We’re all dead.” “Shut up!” Claire had reached her breaking point. The situation was stressful enough. She didn’t need this woman making it worse with her refusal to stop sniveling. She needed to think,

keep a clear head . . . in case Rhees started to react the same way. “How you holding up?” Claire rubbed Rhees’ arm. “I’m fine. Scared to death, but I’m— I refuse to give these men the satisfaction of—I haven’t figured that out yet, but I’m calling on the part of me that dealt with Mr. Meanie-head for so long.” She huffed out a quick laugh. “I’ve given them all names.” “Oh yeah?” Claire asked, amused. Rhees nodded. “The two on the right are Dopehead and Sleazy. The two on the left are Hateful and Sappy, and the big guy is just, Creepy.” She talked loud enough that as she

finished naming off the men, Claire heard Paul and Dobbs laugh, just before Hateful yelled at all of them to be quiet. Claire tried to smile. She wished the women weren’t separated from the men. She wanted to be with her husband and she worried about the way Creepy kept watching Rhees. Paul exchanged many desperate glances, telling her with his eyes to stay close to Rhees, as if she didn’t already have a good idea what the big, ugly hijacker had on his mind. Julia finally stood and yelled at the hijackers. “We’re women and it’s been hours. We need a bathroom break before things get ugly.” She spoke in English, but at least a

couple of the captors seemed to understand. They huddled together to discuss Julia’s demand. A few minutes later, they separated. Two of the men took up position in front of the male hostages on the left of the clearing and two by the women on the right. The big man stayed where he was, in the middle, and watched everyone. The men gestured to Judy and Julia to get up. The women did as they were asked and followed one of the men into the jungle where they wouldn’t have to worry about being observed by the rest of the group. When they returned, the hijacker gestured for the other two women to follow the same procedure.

The second group of women returned from their bathroom break and Rhees and Claire were ushered into the jungle for their turn. The big man followed. Rhees turned to watch Paul as the men steered her out of his sight. His expression reflected the same thoughts haunting Claire’s mind. The big man, who’d had his salacious eyes on Rhees all night, hadn’t bothered to accompany the other women. Claire saw Paul rub his eyes and drag his hands down his face, pulling the muscles and stretching his skin along the way, just before she and Rhees disappeared into the jungle. oOo

Claire took advantage of the opportunity to relieve herself, finding enough cover behind a tree, but still within sight of the captor. He turned just enough to give her a bit of privacy. It was different for Rhees. The big man had followed them into the jungle— followed her specifically, and wouldn’t leave her side, expecting to watch, up close, as she performed her business. She refused. “Cochino!” Rhees said. “You’re a pig—or did I just call you a kitchen? Shoot. I always get those two mixed up.” She heard Claire laugh. “You got it bloody right, Sweet,” she called from behind her tree. When she

finished, she made it to Rhees’ side and the two of them started back to the clearing. “Jus primae noctis.” Creepy stepped to block Rhees’ path. “The nobleman has the right to the bride on the first night.” He spoke English with only a slight accent. He yanked Paul’s jacket off her and tossed it away in a flash, leaving her standing before him in her wedding dress, but feeling naked as he devoured her with his eyes, from head to toe. Rhees swallowed hard, and using her dancing skills, flexed her body unnaturally, managing to scurry past the big blob of a man so fast he couldn’t stop her. She hurried to catch up with

Claire who’d been trying to lag behind in spite of her captor’s efforts to herd her back to camp. Paul had been about to lose it until Rhees finally broke through the trees with Claire. She gave him a quick, reassuring grin that wasn’t really a grin, but it was enough to let him know she was all right. Creepy didn’t hide his dissatisfaction or his anger when he appeared back at the clearing, right behind them. The hijackers began ushering the men, just like they had the women, into the jungle, two at a time. With that business finished, the prisoners were

given granola bars and four bottles of water to share. Rhees refused to take a drink and Paul shook his head. This was survival. These men were probably going to do more harm than any germ ever could, and he needed her as strong as possible in case things turned ugly. He wished she would just take a damn drink. oOo The hijackers ordered everyone to sleep. Dopehead stood guard over the men, Sleazy over the women, and the remaining three hijackers set up hammocks in the trees, away from the clearing, to get some sleep of their own.

Paul and Rhees positioned themselves where they could watch each other by the glow of the small fire, their faces revealing the emotions that plagued each of their minds. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Paul couldn’t help but think about how they were supposed to be back in the city, in the honeymoon suite of their hotel. They should be lying, facing each other, like now, but closer, in the glow of candles and wine, not a campfire. They were supposed to be lying on a bed of fresh rose pedals, not the decaying vegetation of the jungle floor, and they were supposed to be alone, not being kept apart by men holding guns, leaving

them to question if they’ll ever have another day to make it the way it was supposed to be. “You are so beautiful,” he mouthed to her. “You too,” she mouthed back, and it made him grin. They blew each other kisses. He smiled. She was doing better than he thought she could. Tough as nails. Creepy had given up on sleep. There’d been something else on his mind all evening. When he rolled out of his hammock, Hateful gave him a challenging eye.

“Not a good idea,” Hateful said. “Mind your own business,” he responded with a malevolent grin. Hateful backed down without further argument. The other men were all afraid of him, and he liked it that way. Creepy entered the clearing, giving the two guards the signal to remain quiet as he turned his attention to the girl in white, pointing to her, letting them know what he planned to do. They didn’t like it either, but they weren’t about to try and stop him. The pretty bride, Rhees, he’d heard them call her, happened to be engrossed in some silent, loving exchange with her poor excuse of a new husband. They

didn’t even notice him moving in until it was too late. She felt small in his hands as he picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder in one fell swoop. Rhees didn’t realize what had happened until she hung upside down, and the big man turned to carry her into the jungle. “Come on little bride. Jus primae noctis. Time to make your wedding night dreams come true.” Rhees should have panicked. The thought of a man like Creepy touching her would normally send her into a fit of hysteria, but she didn’t care at the moment. She raised her head to see,

knowing what he’d do—her only fear— she knew Paul would stop at nothing to keep her safe. “No! Paul,” she wailed. “They’ll kill you! Please, don’t.” It was too late. The golden tan color had already drained from his face, and filled in again with the color of rage. Paul sprang up and flew at Dopehead like an explosion, shattering the guard’s nose with his fist before ripping the floundering man’s gun from his hands in one fluid movement. Dopehead fell back and went down. Dobbs jumped on him to make sure he stayed out of commission. Paul raised the rifle now in his possession, aimed, and charged at

Creepy, taking long, deliberate strides until he could get close enough to be sure he couldn’t miss and hit Rhees. Sleazy’s brain finally registered their condition, raised his rifle, and pointed it in Paul’s direction. Paul didn’t notice, too intent on ruining Creepy’s plans, but Rhees saw the gun pointed at her husband and gasped, too panicked to get a verbal warning out in time, but Paul took her cue. He turned and pulled the trigger without a second’s hesitation. Sleazy went down. By the time Paul’s attention drew back to Creepy, Rhees felt the big man twist around to see what was happening. The two men faced off, Creepy seemed

dazed at how fast things had turned, and then became unhinged, fumbling for his rifle, the one he’d left in his hammock. He started grappling for his only other weapon, the pistol holstered in a sling at his side, but he couldn’t get to it because of the way he had Rhees and all the drapes of her dress slung over his shoulder. Paul drew closer, still not daring to shoot. Creepy’s stance made it impossible to get a clean shot. Hateful and Sappy burst into the clearing from their hammocks to see why a gun had been fired. Paul saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned on them. He pulled the trigger

again, but they had a split-second advantage. Sappy fell first—then Paul. Rhees screamed at the sight of her beloved going down. Hateful advanced on Paul, who’d dropped his rifle when the bullet hit. Paul scrambled to reclaim the weapon, but it’d flown too far out of his reach, on the same side as his wounded shoulder —his left arm was useless. He tried to roll, but too quickly, Hateful was there, standing over him. Rhees screamed again, begging the man to spare Paul’s life, but the butt of Hateful’s rifle made contact with the side of Paul’s face. Hateful turned his gun, and pointed the barrel at Paul’s

head, and all the other prisoners gasped or screamed, knowing he was about to shoot another prisoner. The hijacker dropped to the ground instead. Dead. Rhees held still, poised, twisted sideways over Creepy’s shoulder, arching her back, holding Creepy’s Smith and Wesson M&P, aimed directly at the dead man. Paul glanced back at his bride, his eyes wide and wild at what she’d just done. She shot the man again, making Paul jump at another unexpected crack of the gun, but she needed to be sure—there was no way she was going to stand by and watch her Paul get shot again, not when there was a loaded pistol within

her reach, very similar to the one her dad had owned and showed her how to use when they drove to a popular shooting site on the west side of Utah Lake, at least twice a year, to enjoy an afternoon of target practice. Paul watched helplessly as Creepy, recognizing his predicament, took advantage of everyone’s stupor. He threw Rhees down, tried to wrestle the gun from her hand, but she put up a fight — he won. He turned, and Paul found himself looking down the barrel of yet another gun. He could see Rhees floundering in her dress, desperately trying to get to her feet, and he knew she’d do whatever she

could to keep Creepy from taking the shot. But Paul knew it was over. He couldn’t help but feel the irony. After all the years he’d spent, carelessly pushing the limits of mortality, he was going to die now when he finally wanted to live more than anything. People say their lives flash before their eyes, but all he saw was the future he’d never have. He should have known it was too good to be true. Rhees had never been meant for him, and God was finally taking matters in his own hands, setting things aright. He was tired of waiting for Paul to do the right thing. The air resonated with another heavy crack of a gun.

Blood, bone, and grey matter splattered across Rhees’ face and down her white dress. She stood in shock, her stance—the look on her face was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on her. And then Creepy’s body fell into her, knocking her over and landing on top of her. Frank Cannon moved closer with Sappy’s rifle still pointed at Creepy’s body before he turned and pointed it at Dopehead who’d just started to stir after Dobbs’ exhaustive beating. The other hostages finally breathed—after holding their breath the twenty or thirty seconds the whole scene had taken. Paul tried to crawl to Rhees on his

knees and his one good arm, in shock that he didn’t die. The blood loss might have had something to do with it too. He, Claire, and Dobbs made it to Rhees at the same time. “Get him off me!” Rhees screamed. Paul tried to push the body away but he cried out in pain. Dobbs had no trouble rolling Creepy away even though the man matched Dobbs’ size. Paul fell back to a sitting position on the ground, exhausted and injured, but he motioned for Rhees to crawl onto his lap. She didn’t hesitate, making herself comfortable by cuddling herself into his chest. He held her, stroking her with his good arm, doing his best to keep it

together, grateful he’d somehow won more time with her. Claire ignored his attempts to brush her away as she checked his shoulder over and applied pressure to control the bleeding. “Aw, Dani Girl, you never fail to amaze me,” Paul huffed to Rhees when his throat finally relaxed enough to stop denying his lungs access to the air he’d been trying to draw in. He held her tight with his good arm, rocking her back and forth. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” “Utah.” She leaned her head against his chest, on the opposite side of his wounded shoulder.

“Yeah? Huh,” he huffed again, still shaky and straining to breathe. “After Perry left,” she said quietly, as if on autopilot. “My dad decided a girl made a better target practice partner than no one.” She buried her face into his neck, grabbing desperately at his shirt with her hands, trying to pull herself even closer. “I was always a good shot, but I never once thought I’d aim at another human, let alone pull the trigger.” She let out a sob. “I’m so sorry,” he said in a shaky voice. “I’d give anything—anything! I hate that you had to—” He looked up to heaven and prayed, sure that since he’d made it through, God had decided he

could hurt him deeper by going through the one person he loved the most. “Oh, God, no.” “No.” Rhees pulled back to look him in the eye, shaking her head vehemently. She held her head up with confidence and conviction. “He was going to kill you. I won’t waste one second regretting pulling the trigger—ever! I never imagined having to do that, but I’d do it again and again—every single time, not even a second of hesitation.”

Chapter 6 aul, Claire, and Dobbs assumed they understood the thoughts going through Rhees’ mind—the same thoughts they were all experiencing, shaken but

relieved to have survived. All the way back to the road, the ride back to the city, to the police station, all the survivors laughed a little, some cried, parents hugged their children, they all hugged each other, but mostly they all pondered quietly, reminded of how fragile life could be. They had no idea the real reason for Rhees’ silence. She’d become so good at hiding the guilt, but she’d been reminded of what she’d done, sure she was still being punished—and would forever be. She’d disobeyed. She was and always would be a dirty girl.

P

oOo

Paul grimaced and gave the paramedic a dirty look when he applied antiseptic to his upper arm. “You just poured alcohol into a fresh, half-inch deep wound,” he growled in English, through clenched teeth. “Why didn’t you just cauterize it with a hot poker? That’s how they teach you to do it here, isn’t it, or maybe leeches, I’m surprised you didn’t just put leeches on it.” Paul was in pain, hungry, tired, and anxious to get out of the police station, and on to the hotel—his wedding night—or wedding morning, but the police insisted on interviewing each and every victim. “Dobbs and I are finished with our

interviews, and were thinking about getting out of here, unless you think you might need us, later, ya know, to supervise . . . or critique.” Claire smiled slyly, and bounced her eyebrows up and down. She flicked her head toward the corner of the room where Rhees had curled up on a bench, covered herself with Paul’s jacket, and looked to be asleep. The news of the hijacking had set the whole station in a state of flurry. The room they were in was large, and filled with empty desks as all the officers busied themselves with the task of investigating the details of what had

happened. “You did get the wedding night speech from a fatherly figure, right? If not, Dobbs can tell you where you’re supposed to put it.” “Claire, stop being so rude,” Dobbs’ bald head was almost purple with the blush his wife had caused. Paul looked over at Rhees and couldn’t help his grin. “Naw. I think I’ve got this covered.” “I guess we’ll see you in three weeks. Don’t worry about a thing. Today we’ll be late opening up, since we’re taking the ferry, but I promise we’ll—” “No,” Paul said, and reached with his good arm to pull out his wallet, but

stopped with a frustrated sigh. “Sorry. I was going to give you money to take the plane, but my wallet—” He didn’t need to finish, the understanding came through in both of their eyes. Their hijacking experience was something that they’d all remember for a long time. “Write a message on the board when you get to the shop, let everyone know what happened, then go home and get some sleep—” “No.” Claire set her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. “I mean, yes, I’ll let everyone know, but we’re not closing up today. We can do this.” “I know you can. I wouldn’t leave

you in charge for three weeks if I didn’t know, without a doubt, that you’ll take care of everything.” Claire actually almost teared up. It took her a second to speak, and Paul didn’t understand why. He cursed his handicap with social cues. “Oh, um,” Paul said as an afterthought, “maybe you can ping Taye an email about it. He’ll pass the word to the others in the States. But be sure to convince him we’re okay—in fact, tell him that while I’m on my honeymoon—if I see his ugly mug, hear his grating voice, or find myself being forced to even think about him, because he’s contacted me in any way, he’s dead

meat!” “Will do. Come on B, let’s get home. We have a shop to run.” Claire smiled and tucked her arm around her husband’s. “Have fun. We’ll see you when you get back.” Paul watched them walk out the door of the station, thinking back to his conversation with Rhees about Dobb’s real name. “So,” Frank slapped Paul on the back as he walked up, pulled up a chair from another desk, and sat down facing Paul. “From what you said earlier, I take it your dad won’t be leaving you his company when he retires.”

Paul gave Frank a small grin and shrugged. “I remember when your dad, the SOB, tried to get his grimy hands on my company. I knew ‘im—didn’t like ‘im. I didn’t know you, but I’d heard rumors you were the man behind the man.” Paul looked down and shook his head. He didn’t like the description. “You scared the bejesus out of me, son.” Frank chuckled, but Paul still didn’t look up. “I’m sorry,” Paul’s voice registered in a deeper than usual voice, barely above a whisper. “I was good at what I did.” “Good?” Frank laughed again. “I’m

not sure how many sleepless nights you caused me, worrying that I was about to lose everything I’d worked for. But in the end, I’d learned a good lesson, and set myself up stronger, made myself impenetrable, so I should thank you.” The paramedic stood, gathered his supplies, and told Paul, in Spanish, that he was finished dressing the wound, but that he still recommended stitches. Paul shrugged, his preferred method of communication, considering the mood he was in. “No se preocupe,” Paul grumbled, and dismissed the man. “Look,” Frank continued when the paramedic walked off. “You have a good

head on your shoulders, and I’ve unexpectedly found myself in the market for a new successor. How about you come work for me? You’d just have to promise me you’ll run it, not tear it apart for scrap, but I’d be proud to have someone like you take over when I’m gone.” Paul choked at the unexpected offer. “Sorry,” he held up his hands, “I’ve had my fill of that life.” Frank looked shocked that Paul would pass up his proposition. “I know that you know what my company was worth back then. I’ve since, damn near tripled that.” Paul made an attempt to laugh, but he

couldn’t get out any sound. “Money means nothing anymore. The only thing that matters to me is that woman over there.” He pointed to a still sleeping Rhees. “It’s good to learn how to weigh your priorities.” Frank stood, and held out his hand to Paul. Paul took it and they shook, both nodding their mutual respect. “Take care of you and yours, and for the record,” Frank said as an afterthought, “I have no plans to give up control until they certify me senile, or I can no longer hang on by the skin of my teeth, but if you ever change your mind —”

“Don’t waste any time waiting by the phone,” Paul grinned. oOo “All right Mr. Weaver. I think we’re done. Your story matches the other passengers’.” Even though Paul spoke fluent Spanish, most of the other passengers didn’t, so Sergeant Ortiz had conducted the interview in English. Paul was the last of the hostages to be questioned because of the time it took to attend to his wounds. The side of his face would be a pretty shade of purple for a while, and the gunshot-torn flesh of his shoulder meant his arm would be nestled in a sling for at least the better

part of his honeymoon. “I can’t condone your actions. You could have gotten yourself and everyone else killed.” “He planned to rape my wife,” Paul hissed. “On her wedding night.” “I didn’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing, but as the law, I have to say things like that.” Ortiz grinned. “I’m sorry to have to break the bad news, but by the time my officers got to the bus to retrieve your things, the bus had been looted. The people of this country are very poor. A tourist bus, sitting unattended on the side of the road, is something they just can’t pass up. Your luggage, and the seat with your hidden

money—they stripped everything. I’m afraid desperate people are very thorough.” Paul sighed. “Our phones are toast, and we never did find the bag the hijackers put all the loot in. The guy who drove off in the jeep before the others marched us into the jungle must have taken it with him. Without that cash I stuffed in the seat, the next few days will be a little problematic until I can replace what was in my wallet. I wonder if the looters will ever get around to stripping the upholstery. They’ll think they’ve won the lottery,” Paul said and then paused. “The ring?” “There’s nothing left of the bus

except a shell. Even the septic tank is missing.” The wheels in Paul’s head started spinning. He needed to replace passports, credit cards, get cash, again. He’d be able to get at least one of his credit card companies to send a courier with replacements and a thousand dollars cash, ASAP. The hefty annual fee, for once, seemed worth it. He and Rhees would need new clothes, luggage. He’d have to postpone their flight, their hotel room in Australia, the dive shop with whom they’d planned to dive the Great Barrier Reef. A pain in the neck but he’d manage with, hopefully, only a short delay. In fact, it

didn’t sound so bad after all. Spending an extra day or two in bed with Rhees would give him a chance to make a real dent in the list of the things he’d wanted to do to her for so long, things he’d only dreamed about. He couldn’t control his dreams, right? At least he’d already paid for the honeymoon suite and the hotel had his credit card number on file. He’d have to tell them to charge another night or two. It wouldn’t be so bad, just different than they’d planned. A knock sounded at the door and a woman walked into the interrogation room without waiting for Ortiz to invite her in.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Ortiz. It’s Mrs. Weaver. I’m afraid there’s a situation. The paramedics are on their way.” Paul jumped to his feet before she’d finished speaking. “What’s wrong? Where is she?” He pushed past her, stopping in the hall when Rhees’ highpitched scream gave him chills. He ran toward the sound and burst into the interrogation room where Rhees had been interviewed. He flushed completely pale when he caught his first glimpse of her. Rhees had backed herself into the corner of the room, frantically holding a chair up the way a lion tamer would to keep the lions at bay. She continued to

shriek and rant hysterically. “Stay away from me.” She lurched at him with the chair to warn him off. “Don’t touch me!” “Rhees?” Paul called to her over her screams. She looked at him, but her wild eyes didn’t soften at all. “Hey, Baby,” he cooed. “Did someone touch you? It’s okay. I’m here now.” He moved toward her, but the panic in her eyes intensified at his approach and she jerked the chair his direction again to keep him away. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed again. He stopped mid-step, stunned. She didn’t seem to recognize him. “Dani Girl, it’s me.”

She finally met his eyes and he held his hands out for her to see. He watched her chest heaving in short staccato breaths and thought he’d made a connection so he took another step. “That’s right. It’s just me, Baby. It’s going to be all right.” “Don’t touch me,” she whimpered, the terror still on her face. “No one will touch you but me. You let me touch you.” She seemed to take a second to think about it as recognition began to register in her eyes. She still held the chair as a shield but she’d relaxed her grip for a second. Her head started shaking back and forth and he could tell her anxiety

was on the rise again. He ran his hand around the back of his neck, trying to think, but before he came up with anything, the door burst open with a crash and people started pouring into the room. More police officers, paramedics, and to Paul, it seemed, the whole world, burst into the room, blowing any hope he had of bringing her back. Her eyes grew even wider and she snarled and gnashed wildly as the policemen and the paramedics assessed the situation and moved in on her. They barked strategy to each other as they tightened their circle, boxing her into the corner. “You take that side. Hold her down

and I’ll give her the sedative.” “Stop! Just stop. I can handle this,” Paul pleaded but no one listened. “Please, let me handle this.” The biggest man moved toward her, but she jerked the chair again, violently. The distraction gave the other men the opening they needed. One man jumped toward her, making her turn her head, while the big man pushed the chair out of the way and tackled her to the ground. Another man jumped to help hold her down while the man with the syringe grabbed her arm and tried to administer the sedative. Paul went mad at seeing them manhandle her that way. He jumped the

big man holding Rhees down and hit him, knocking him away. Rhees rolled and kicked the other man, scampering into the other corner of the room, still screaming incoherently about being touched. More policemen gathered at the door to see what the commotion was all about. It took a small army but they finally overpowered Paul, tackling him to the ground before they slapped cuffs on him, letting a few more fists fly against his ribs to vent their relief at subduing him, at last. “Leave her alone!” Paul yelled, helplessly. “Just leave her alone.” One of the policemen punched Paul

in the jaw, knocking his head onto the hard floor, leaving him dazed. The next few seconds seemed like a slow-motion replay of a televised football game. Two men held him down while three men wrestled Rhees to the floor again and administered the drug. It took effect almost immediately and she drooped, still conscious, but no longer able to fight. Paul watched powerlessly as they strapped Rhees onto a stretcher and took her away. He barely heard the voice speaking to him. “They’re taking her to the hospital. If you behave yourself, you might be able to join her there when we’re finished

with you.” It was Cardona, the female officer who’d come to get Ortiz. They’d left him bound to a hard chair longer than necessary, but an hour and a half later, the policemen decided Paul had calmed enough to take his cuffs off. “What did you do to her?” he begged, rubbing his swollen wrists. “Has your wife been known to have psychotic episodes?” “No.” He paused. “I wouldn’t really call it psychological episodes, but she had a few panic attacks after she was almost raped. The other men in the room looked at each other. “She’s had panic attacks since last night?”

Paul tilted his head to the side, realizing just now how the night before, their wedding night, had been the second time someone had tried to rape her. It made his stomach churn. He sat forward and put his head in his hands. “Several months ago, a guy almost raped her.” “Did it involve a bathtub?” Paul lifted his gaze. His mind only grew foggier. “No. Some creepazoi . . . creep. A man slipped her Rohypnol. He tried to get her out of the bar when I happened along. It upset her pretty bad, for weeks . . . but she’s fine now.” “I’m sorry. Mrs. Weaver has been taken to the hospital. They’re going to do a psychological evaluation.”

“I need to be there. I need to go, now!” They glanced at each other again. Sergeant Ortiz nodded to one of the men who set a recording device on the table. “I think you need to listen to something, first.” Ortiz nodded again and the other man pushed a button. Paul listened to the police interview his bride. “Mrs. Weaver, will you tell us what happened after the hijackers ordered everyone to sleep?” “Creepy—the big man, picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.” Rhees sounded shaken but no worse than would be expected. “It took me a second, but I

knew what was going to happen. Paul, my husband, he knew too—I lifted my head to see him, worried about what Paul would do. I knew—I’ve always known. He would never sit back and let that man do that to me. He’d kill to protect me. He’s like that—safe. He’d stop at nothing to keep me safe. “But for once . . . I didn’t care about me—about that. I didn’t want Paul to get hurt. It was all a bad dream . . .” Something about her tone changed. She continued her account, but in a child-like voice. “He carried me into his house, into the bathroom. He closed the door and turned on the bathtub. He put me down

and told me I was a very dirty girl and said to take my clothes off so he could give me a bath. I said I didn’t want to and he got mad at me. He pulled my shirt off and pushed my pants down. He stared at my panties. “He picked me up and hugged me— he put his tongue in my mouth. I started to throw up, but no throw up came out. He took his tongue out and sat down on the toilet and put me over his legs and pulled my panties off. My hands touched the toilet and the floor. I could see all the old yellow pee. I didn’t want to touch it, but he rubbed my bum and I didn’t know where else to put my hands.” She sniffed. “He said I was a dirty girl and

he spanked me, really hard. “He told me to stop crying or he would spank me again. He picked me up and said that dirty girls need a bath—the bathtub was all black and ugly and I didn’t want to take a bath in there. He threw me in. I hit my elbow on the tub and it hurt, but I didn’t cry because I didn’t want him to spank me again. The bathtub was so ugly. He took off his clothes and got in the tub with me. He stared at me again and told me to lick his private part.” Paul closed his eyes when he heard Rhees whimper on the recording. She grew more and more distressed as she recounted what obviously had been a

traumatic part of her past. “I didn’t want to. He got mad again and pushed my head down in the water and put it in my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. I tried not to cry, but I couldn’t breathe. He pulled me on his lap and put his tongue in my mouth again. I tried not to throw up. I wanted to cry but I didn’t want him to hear, so I was crying, inside. “I said I wanted to go home, but he said I couldn’t go home because I was a dirty girl and my family didn’t want me anymore. It was because I disobeyed my mommy. I was supposed to take a nap, but I snuck outside to play. He pushed me on my back and got on top of me but my head was under the water and I

couldn’t breathe again. I got water in my nose and I choked. “He lifted me out of the bathtub and threw me on the floor. It was hard and cold . . . and dirty. He got on top of me again and he was pushing his private part on my private part . . . it hurt. I didn’t want to cry because I didn’t want him to spank me again, but I wanted him to stop hurting me. He kept pushing, and yelling at me to let him in. I didn’t know how. He stopped moving and laid on me —he was smashing me on the floor. I couldn’t breathe. There was white stuff on my tummy, coming out of his private part when he got off of me. He hit me, over and over, and yelled at me, and told

me I did it wrong. He said I did it wrong because I was stupid. “I wanted to go home, I shouldn’t have disobeyed. My mom told me to take a nap, but I wanted to play on the monkey bars—” Rhees’ sobs broke Paul’s heart, hearing it, finally knowing —he regretted ever wanting to know. “He made me put my clothes back on and took me in the kitchen. It was stinky in there and there were lots of dishes, garbage everywhere, and the walls had food all over them. He got a sucker out of the cupboard. He opened it and put it in his mouth and then gave it to me. I didn’t want it but he yelled at me to taste it. He said I was a stupid, dirty girl, and

it was all my fault, and if I told anybody about making the white stuff come out of him, I would get in a lot of trouble, because it’s wrong to make white stuff come out of him—but I did. Only dirty girls do that—I was a dirty girl. I said I would never tell anybody. I promised. I never want anyone to know what a bad girl I am.” “That’s when things got crazy,” the other officer said as he turned the machine off. “Mrs. Weaver started screaming something about how she shouldn’t have said anything. She begged me to promise not to tell anyone, and then I think—I think that’s when it hit her she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She

flew into a hysterical fit, yelling at me to get away from her. I was across the table from her. I don’t know why she thought I was trying to touch her. I called to Cardona for help. You pretty much know the rest.” Paul couldn’t open his eyes. He trembled, his mouth twitched as he struggled to hold back the emotion. It took him a minute, but he finally choked out, “When can I see her?” oOo The hospital held Rhees for observation. The first day, Paul had attacked an intern who tried to keep him from pushing his way into Rhees’ room.

Security escorted him out of the hospital and told him he wouldn’t be allowed back until Sergeant Ortiz assured them he could behave himself. Ortiz threatened to arrest him, but Paul didn’t want to wind up in jail and chance not being free when Rhees needed him. He promised Ortiz he’d stay at the hotel, under a self-imposed house arrest and Ortiz accepted the offer. Seventy-two hours later, the doctor finally gave Paul permission to see her, and he’d raced to the hospital. Doctor Quiñones confessed they normally allowed family visits after only twentyfour hours, but because of Paul’s volatile state, he’d extended the waiting time for

her sake, but mostly for the sake of his staff. Paul walked slowly, nervously, into Rhees’ room, not knowing what to expect. She lay so still on the hospital bed, her back turned to him and she made no effort to acknowledge his presence. “Is she asleep?” he asked the doctor. “No. She hasn’t slept much since she’s been here. I’ll leave you two alone . . . but I’m going to tell the nurse to keep an eye on you.” Paul came close to launching a verbal assault on the doctor, but he caught himself. He didn’t want to be banned from her again. “What do you

think I’m going to do to her?” Quiñones shrugged and walked out of the room. “Hey.” Paul inched his way to the side of her bed. He reached to put his hand on her, to caress her arm, but decided against it, remembering how she’d screamed to not be touched. “I’ve missed you, Dani Girl.” She didn’t respond. “I would have come sooner, but they have this stupid policy against worried husbands . . . you know me. I’m sorry, Baby. I handled that poorly.” He pulled a chair to the side of her bed and sat down. He wasn’t about to leave her side

again. The last three days, being kept away from her, had been hell. He’d hardly eaten, he hadn’t slept. A couple of hours went by and still he watched her, wishing she’d acknowledge him, wishing she’d just move. Still afraid to touch her, he reached out and ran his fingers along the edge of her blanket, the only thing he could think of, looking for a way to connect. Eventually he fell asleep in the chair. oOo “Señor Weaver?” The nurse didn’t speak English and spoke to him in her own tongue. “Visiting hours are over. You must leave.”

He woke from an uncomfortable position and a bad dream. “I’m not leaving,” he responded back in Spanish. “I’m not bothering anyone. I won’t hurt anyone, just let me stay. If you try to make me leave, all hell is going to break loose.” He glared at the short, older woman. She walked out, deciding she wouldn’t test him. The next morning, Doctor Quiñones came into the room. Surprised to see Paul there, asleep in the chair again, he shook his head but didn’t say anything as he examined Rhees’ chart. “Mrs. Weaver? Do you know where you are?” the doctor asked, waking Paul. She nodded, a good sign, the first

time she’d responded since Paul showed up. “Do you know where you are, Mrs. Weaver?” “Rhees, her name is Rhees,” Paul said. Quiñones scowled at Paul. “Rhees? Can you tell me where you are?” “I’m right here,” she answered feebly. Paul exhaled his relief. He hadn’t heard her voice since she’d screamed at him to leave her alone. Thank you, God. Thank you. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard that.” Quiñones chuckled at her response. “Rhees, I’m sending you home

today—” “You’re sending her home because of me.” Paul shot to his feet in a panic, interrupting him. “Look at her! There is no way she’s ready to go home.” The doctor took a step back and put his hands up. Paul realized he looked threatening again and took a breath before trying on a softer, apologetic demeanor. He was torn. Getting her out of that hospital had been a great concern, but the thought of them turning their back on her because of him. “I promise. I won’t be any more trouble. Please, just give her the help she needs.” “Mr. Weaver!” Quiñones boomed

when he recovered, giving Paul a stern look. Paul locked eyes on him, matching his expression, until the doctor finally gave up and turned his attention back to Rhees. “Rhees, there’s nothing more we can do for you here. This is going to take time—you’re going to need time. I’m sending you home, but first I need to ask you some questions, all right?” Paul barely perceived her nod. “Does your husband hit you?” “Aw, Jesus.” Paul cried out, agitated again, he cussed, “What kind of fu— question is—” “Do I need to call security? I can send her home with you, or I can commit her to an independent care center with

around-the-clock supervision. If you opt for the second choice, you won’t be allowed to see her again for another seventy-two hours or more.” Quiñones stared Paul down. “I’m willing to let you take her home, but based on what I’ve observed from you, I need to know I’m not sending her home to—” “Got it!” Paul held his hands up in concession, yielding to the man. The thought of being separated again—he couldn’t bear it. “Mrs. Weaver?” “No,” Rhees said quietly. “What was that?” the doctor asked. “No. Paul’s never—he would never hit me.” Her voice never registered

above a whisper. “Is there any reason why I shouldn’t allow him to take you home today?” She started trembling and Paul’s knees grew weak, imagining why. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand. He sat back down to catch his breath. Paul’s eyes rolled back before he closed them. His mind flooded with memories, all the times she’d cringed when he’d tried to kiss her, all the times she pushed him away or flinched when he’d touched her, Taylor’s surprise hug —he finally understood. “She’s afraid to come home with me.” “No,” she murmured, but Paul

figured she just felt the need to be cooperative. Her sweet nature compelled her to be cooperative, even if she didn’t want to. She cleared her throat. “I’m not afraid. He’d never hit me.” But she is worried I’ll touch her. “I’ll tell the nurse to check you out, but you’re going to need help to get through this. I recommend therapy.” “Anything. I’ll do anything for her,” Paul drilled out. “I’ll get her the best doctor there is—whatever it takes.” The doctor handed Paul a piece of paper with names of doctors who specialized in Rhees’ form of trauma. “Are there any in the States?”

Rhees actually turned to look at him with concern etched on her face, but Paul didn’t flinch from his question. Quiñones took the paper back and scribbled down another name. “He’s presented at a few conferences I’ve attended. If he can’t help, he’ll be able to recommend someone,” Quiñones said and walked out of the room.

Chapter 7 do you want to do?” Paul “W hat aimed to sound confident and happy as they stepped out of the hospital, but didn’t quite manage. He hadn’t felt

so uncertain about what he should do for a very long time. The need to be in control nagged at him, but this situation continued to spiral out of his realm. In the light of Rhees’ recollection, her detachment the last few days, the way she’d screamed at him not to touch her. He was at a loss. She shrugged, wearing her green surgical scrubs. The nurses had taken pity on her, not wanting to send her away wearing her ruined wedding dress—the one splattered with blood and brains. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and dropped her head as if trying to turn herself inside out, become invisible. He reached for her, wanting

nothing more than to comfort her and let her know it was going to be all right. Once again, he changed his mind and withdrew his hand. “I’ve been staying at a hotel. Do you want to go there?” He’d downgraded from the honeymoon suite, unable to face the thought of being there alone, and realizing they’d possibly never be in need of a honeymoon suite . . . for the rest of their lives, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was getting her through this. She glanced at him, and he didn’t miss the concern in her eyes. He gaped for a second, not understanding how she could really believe he would expect her

to consummate their marriage anytime in the near future. “To rest . . . until we can figure all this out,” he hurried to assure her. She relaxed and nodded. oOo Paul unlocked the door and held it open for her. It led into a small foyer with two more doors and a console table between them. A vase full of fresh flowers sat on top. He unlocked the door on the left, which opened to a small room, a kitchenette, or more like a sophisticated wet bar with nice cupboards, a counter, sink, and a mini fridge.

Paul gave her a quick tour of the place. Straight ahead lay another smaller room with a dresser and a door with a frosted glass window. “The dressing room.” He opened the door and the light automatically came on in the large walk-in closet. A few clothes, a pair of new slacks, and a golf shirt hung inside along with two white, terry cloth robes. Two pairs of slippers sat on the floor beneath the robes. Rhees gave him a once over, just now realizing he had on another pair of dress slacks and a golf shirt she’d never seen before. He must have noticed her confusion. “I bought a few clothes from the hotel shop and tossed the ones I wore at

the wed—” He looked grimly at her and reached down to tug on the scrubs she had on. She understood immediately. Of course, his clothes would have had blood all over them too. “We’re not going to see our luggage again.” She nodded in understanding. Normally, she would have been upset about losing all her best clothes, but she had no ability to feel anymore. Having it all come out, the realization she could never run from it or hide it again, she had no defense mechanism left except the dull stupor she’d trapped herself in. Knowing Paul, the man she loved, now knew her deepest, darkest secret—she was so ashamed she couldn’t function.

He closed the door and led her into a large bathroom. The ten-foot-long vanity had two sinks and above them hung two gigantic mirrors with dark wooden frames. The maids, as usual, had turned on the hidden televisions in the mirrors, tuned to the local news channel. A clear, glass wall separated the bathroom from the shower. An opening in the wall led into a large room, at least as large as the other half of the bathroom where the sinks were. The shower room had been done in earth-toned tile from floor to ceiling. Showerheads adorned the walls and ceiling overhead at differing heights and angles with knobs everywhere. She didn’t say anything, but

she’d never imagined anything like that existed. “I know. Over the top, isn’t it?” He smiled, hoping she’d return one. She didn’t. He led her out of the shower to continue the tour of the suite. “The toilet’s in here.” He pointed to a little room, without a door, across from the vanity. “They have a thing against doors in the bathroom, apparently.” He frowned at the lack of privacy in the whole bathroom, but he tried to stay upbeat for her. “But you can order room service while you’re taking care of business.” He picked up the phone next to the toilet

and chuckled. “Though, even I think that’s a little gross. Are there really people who can’t go ten minutes without talking on a phone?” She nodded a slight acknowledgment, but didn’t return his cheerfulness. He led her back through the dressing room, through the mini barentry room, and into a spacious room to the left of the door. A long, white chaise lounge sat in the first corner on the right. An expensive looking, oversized business desk and chair were pushed against the wall at the end of the chaise, and sliding glass doors lined the opposite wall in the right corner of the room. The doors opened onto a balcony

with an outdoor dining table and four chairs, overlooking the city. “Quite a view, huh?” Paul raced over to draw the curtains open a little further. A large flat-screened TV hung on the wall left of the sliding glass doors and over another dresser. A king-sized bed with a fluffy white comforter and too many pillows lay against the opposite wall on her left with a night table on each side. “Not the best suite I’ve ever had.” Paul seemed desperate to make a connection, get her talking—break the ice. “The décor’s nice, but they put all their effort into the en-suite. The shower

and dressing room are nice, but there’s no separate living area from the bedroom. I’d rather not watch TV on the bed. What if one person wants to sleep while the other person is watching? I guess one could sit on the toilet and watch TV on the mirrors in the bathroom.” He forced himself to chuckle. She didn’t understand the dilemma. He so rarely watched TV, usually sports. She watched even less. Her lack of response made him frown. “It’s all they had available when I downgraded from the honeymo—” He cut himself off.

Rhees didn’t acknowledge he’d said anything. She shuffled to the far side of the bed and climbed on, facing the wall . . . away from him. She curled up into a ball and didn’t move for the next few hours. Paul sat on the end of the chaise, watching her, trying not to disturb her. At dinnertime, he finally broke the silence to ask if she wanted to eat. He could barely see the shake of her head and it sapped his already drained morale. “Baby . . . please. You haven’t eaten all day. If I order food, will you at least try to eat?” She didn’t bother to shake her head again. He ordered room service and hoped the aroma of food would stir

her appetite. It didn’t. He ate alone but barely touched his own food. He slipped in a few squat thrusts, as many as his arm could take, and a long set of sit-ups before his shower. He’d used the hotel’s gym while he’d waited for the hospital to give him permission to return, but now, he couldn’t leave Rhees. He’d have to get by with whatever release he could fit in, to keep his sanity. He did nothing the rest of the night except lay on the chaise and listen for her to cry. She never did, and for the first time ever, he wished she would. The depth of her numbness scared him. She’d normally cry. He wanted her to

cry. He felt completely helpless and scared. oOo Morning light filtered through the window when Paul woke. He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but it wasn’t long. He hadn’t been able to sleep for days, waiting for Rhees to do something —anything. The chaise had become a torture device after spending so much time on it, but he didn’t dare try to get near the bed except to make sure she had water on her bedside table. He’d put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door to keep the maids away, listening for them through the door—

what else did he have to do besides a few hundred sit-ups a day to ward off the need to scream or start punching holes in the walls? When the maids showed up at the room across the foyer every day, he’d peek out and ask for clean towels and fresh supplies. Other than that, he tiptoed around the suite going stir-crazy while Rhees didn’t move from the bed, except to use the bathroom. It took some coaxing the first night to get her under the blankets, but he didn’t push her to take her clothes off, even though he knew she’d be more comfortable. He managed to get her to drink a few sips of water and take a bite of food every now and then, but he had

to work up the courage each time he decided it was time to force the issue. He scooted to the edge of the chaise and stared at her back for a while. He finally got up and crept around the bed to her side. He stood over her, watching in anguish as she ignored him, staring at the wall behind him, or at least in that direction. Her eyes remained glazed over with the same indifference he’d met since he’d brought her to the hotel. He kneeled down on the floor, facing her. “Hey,” he whispered. He wanted to touch her, caress her, kiss her—just a kiss to comfort her—himself, but she still wouldn’t look at him. His eyes began to fill with tears and he sighed

with grief before choking out, “I miss my best friend—my everything.” She closed her eyes, he thought so she wouldn’t have to look at him. It was his undoing. He put his hand to his face, his index finger covered his eyes and he used his other fingers to muffle the sounds of his despair. He didn’t cry audibly, but his breathing grew forced and harsh as the tears, for once, fell unrestrained. She reached for him. He didn’t need another hint to move on her. He didn’t think about whether she meant for him to do it or not, but he crawled closer, as close to the bed as he could get without climbing on top of her. He buried his

face in the sheets, wanting more, but he didn’t dare push any further. She put one hand on his head and stroked his hair. He took her other hand and held it against his heart. They held each other like that for half an hour. She finally rolled onto her back and slapped the bed at her side, his invitation to climb over her, onto the bed, next to her, and he didn’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. He lay on his side and rested his head on his left arm, but winced, cursing to himself for forgetting about his wounded shoulder, again. He adjusted his pillow before she remembered the gunshot and made a big deal over him. He watched her stare at

the ceiling. “I’m so ashamed.” Her voice rasped after not speaking for so long. “I’m so sorry.” “Aw, Rhees, no.” He spoke slowly, just now realizing how she’d been seeing the incident, the reason she’d avoided his questions the few times he’d dared to ask. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I’ll understand if you want a divorce, I—I —” “Don’t. Where’s this coming from?” She turned to look him in the eye. “How can you not, now that you know what I did? Now that you know I’m not the good person you thought I was. I’ve

been lying to you all this time. Letting you believe—I tried to tell you I wasn’t, but you wouldn’t hear it and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you why I wasn’t.” He moved to hold her in his arms, to reassure her, but the way her eyes widened with fear when he moved toward her made him pull back. He cursed himself and let out a few frustrated breaths. Of course, she didn’t want to be touched. They were back to that. “It wasn’t your fault. You were victimized. You did nothing wrong, and I’m not going anywhere, ever.” He ached to hold her and let her know everything was going to be all right. “Rhees, you

didn’t have to tell me. I knew.” “You knew?” Again, the horrified look on her face made him panic and he rushed to explain. “I didn’t know the details or how bad it actually was, but I knew something had to have happened. At first I thought your brother, the fights with your parents, the fact that he ran away. But then I wondered if your dad— but you speak so highly of him.” “He would never—my dad was— you remind me of him. Quiet, but no pushover, strong, protective, smart, grumpy, and even scary sometimes.” She glanced over at Paul again. “But he never scared me, well, mostly. My mom

used to tell me she wished she could manage him as well as I did. He intimidated a lot of people, but he would never hurt me. “If he’d known my secret—” She wiped her eyes with both hands and shook her head as if imagining what her dad would think right now. “I wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye. He never knew, no one knew until now.” She drew in a labored breath. “But now you know. You had every right to know—before you married me. I deceived you. I misrepresented myself, so I won’t hold you to a promise you made based on a lie.” “Aww, Baby . . .” This was just like

her. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to live with this horrendous memory, but you did nothing wrong! It’s not now, nor was it ever your fault. And it does not, in any way, change how I feel about you. I love you. I will always love you, no matter what.” She scoffed, not believing him and it made him sigh. “I feel a lot better now.” He ran his tongue across the inside of his cheek and then licked his lips. “—About what I did. I worried. I couldn’t decide if it was the right thing, that it might be too soon. I wondered if I should talk to you about it first.” “What did you do?” she asked

cautiously. “I found a very good doctor. He happens to make house calls.” Paul grew quiet, watching and waiting for her reaction. She looked at him as if she didn’t understand, or maybe like she understood completely. She’d kept the incident a secret for so long he knew it had to be hard to suddenly be expected to discuss it openly. “Dr. Daniel Keene will be here tomorrow.” Paul spoke slowly, giving her time to absorb the idea. “I called him from the handy bathroom phone. Never thought I’d use one of those before I was eighty. I thought they were for old people who have heart attacks in the bathroom

or something.” “Sounds expensive. How much is that going to cost?” He couldn’t help the urge to chuckle, but he did manage to reel it in reasonably fast. The smile fighting to break was a little harder to subdue. He decided not to mention the fact he’d arranged to fly the doctor in from Texas and put him up in the same hotel so he could spend as much time with Rhees as she needed. “Don’t worry about the money. I’ll do whatever it takes, pay whatever it costs to get you feeling better.” The seriousness of her problem hit him once again, making him forget any humor he’d

just felt about her penny-pinching tendencies. “Save your money. I’ve said enough —more than enough. I don’t want to talk about what happened.” “Rhees—” he started to say, but she cut him off. “Especially not to some witch doctor who makes house calls.” “I said he was very good—nawt a witch doctor. I tried, but you’d be surprised how hard it is to find one of those.” She didn’t even smile and Paul frowned. “The doctor at the hospital said you’d need therapy.” “He said I needed time.” She put the back of her hand over her eyes. “And

you argued with everything he said, why suddenly comply with the one thing I would’ve argued about?” “You heard that, huh?” “I was distraught. Not deaf.” “I was distraught, and yeah, not very compliant, not when they expected me to comply with staying away from you.” He blew air out through his tightened lips. He needed to convince her, but he knew how stubborn she could be. “Rhees, I don’t think it’d hurt to see this guy. He’s already on his way.” “Fine, he can come.” Her easy concession surprised him and he wanted to fist pump his hand in the air at his victory.

“But I’m not talking to him. What a waste of money.” “You have to talk to him, what good will it do to get him all the way down here if—” Again she cut him off with a loud gasp. “Our honeymoon!” “Hmm?” He perked up. “You still want a honeymoon?” “We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon right now. Please, tell me you cancelled our reservations and got your money back.” “No.” His disappointment was palpable. He’d hoped she’d brought up the honeymoon for a different reason. “I’m afraid that was the furthest thing

from my mind.” “That’s thirteen thousand dollars down the drain.” She turned to look at him with sad eyes. “It’s all my fault.” “It’s all right, Baby. I don’t want you worrying about that. I just want you well.” “Thirteen thousand dollars—I’m sorry. Maybe we could call and explain what happened. Maybe they’ll understand. We were hijacked. It was completely out of our control.” “Rhees. It’s too late. It doesn’t matter. I’m more concerned about you than money.” “Thirteen thousand dollars,” she mumbled.

“We should do something else, something easy and carefree.” He sounded enthusiastic. “Have you ever been on a cruise? A cruise is an easy way to vacation. Everything is done for you. You don’t have to think too hard or worry about anything. What do you think? We could just get away, relax in a nice, stress-free—” “You just lost thirteen thousand dollars! You want to spend more? What’s wrong with you?” “I can aff—” Paul realized he’d never explained his financial situation to her. “Rhees, I never mentioned it before. I should have, before now, but I don’t think about it much anymore, not since . .

. I left Florida. The last time I did think about it, a few months ago, marriage was the furthest thing from my mind, and then when we started talking about getting married, well to be honest, I’ve been so pre-occupied with trying to keep my hands and He to myself—do you know how crazy I’ve been—knowing how I was finally going to get to . . .” Paul let his voice trail off. He squeezed his eyes closed at his mistake, not the topic of conversation to have with her right now. When he opened them again, Rhees’ eyes were squeezed shut too. He cursed himself under his breath. “Rhees, Baby, I have—I mean we have money.” He hurried to get her mind

off of what he’d been about to say—that the thought of finally making love to her had made him crazy the last couple of months. “Thirteen thousand dollars is nothing. We won’t miss it. Please don’t worry about that.” There’re more important things to worry about. “You are crazy! It’s nothing?” She sounded incredulous and the anger she directed at him elated him. He loved seeing emotion, any emotion, from his previously catatonic wife. “And I’m supposed to be the one who needs therapy?” She rolled her eyes. “Rhees, it’s all right. We can afford it,” he said, loving the squabble. He

almost always did. He loved feisty Rhees. “I know how much the shop takes in, Paul. It’s better now than it was, but we can’t just go around throwing money out the window like there’s an endless supply.” “Dani Girl, you’re not hearing me.” He twisted his mouth. He rarely realized how often he did that, but this time he did. He loved her so much and couldn’t help but watch her, so very appreciative she’d come from an entirely different world than his. Her perspective always clobbered him as fresh and unfamiliar. She kept him on his toes. “Look, Baby. I reviewed the books

before I bought the shop. I examined the financial statements, which were nothing more than a few bank statements and some chicken scratches on notepaper, but I ran the numbers. Rhees, I have a gift for evaluating businesses—that’s what I did before I—” He hadn’t expected to go down that particular memory lane. It caught him off-guard and left him feeling sick. “I know what to look for.” He tried to get back on track after looking like he’d been punched in the gut. “I knew the shop was losing money. It was a terrible investment. The previous owner was crazy. I told you about him, Dodger,

remember? The business was a mess, inches away from closing its doors for good.” Rhees’ thoughts flashed to Claire and Dobbs, and how they’d planned to buy the shop before Paul came along and bought it before they’d had a chance. She thought about what he was saying and it made her wonder if they’d known. It would have been disastrous if they’d used their life’s savings, entered into a contract with the previous owner under the guise of buying a business they thought would sustain them. “But I have money, okay—plenty of money—now, you do too. I’ve always

had money, mostly.” He apparently didn’t know how to talk about this without bringing up his past. “My family has money, and I made my own early on. I bought the shop because I’d already made my fortune, not because I believed it was my ticket to wealth. “I knew that no matter what I did, it would never be a hugely profitable business, but I bought it anyway.” He paused. “I fell in love with it—it needed me . . . and I needed it—the way I need you.” He gazed into her eyes, thinking how the shop had changed his life. He didn’t think his life could get any better . . . until Rhees came along.

He thought about saying that but she rolled her eyes again, telling him her current state of mind wouldn’t hear it or believe it. He’d just have to spend the rest of his life showing her. “I have other investments. So no matter how good or bad the shop does, the cost of living on the island is so low, our money will long outlive us both. We can throw away thirteen thousand dollars on vacations we don’t take, every month for the next twenty years, and still have enough to live a very good, comfortable life.” Rhees visibly closed off again, and Paul wondered if he should have tried a different way to have given her the

news. She rolled off the bed and stood up. “I need the bathroom.” As she walked away, he heard her mumbling. “Of course I didn’t know he was rich. Add another piece of evidence in the case of my stupidity.” Paul realized he had something he needed to do, something very hard for him, but he needed to do it. Rhees needed it . . . just as soon as the very thought of it stopped giving him a panic attack.

Chapter 8 hen Dr. Keene arrived, Rhees said she had nothing to hide and insisted Paul stay because she didn’t plan to talk anyway. The doctor really was good and

W

she found herself opening up more than she’d intended. He’d done his homework. He’d already listened to the recording from the police station and read her file from the hospital. “Do you know how old you were?” Keene sat at the end of the chaise, facing Rhees, who’d chosen to sit wrapped up in her safe ball on the corner of the bed. Paul had pulled the desk chair around to face them both. His bare foot tapped out a tense, but quiet beat against the carpet as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His chin rested on both thumbs, hiding the lower half of his face behind his clasped fingers, masking how

ferociously his mouth worked its way through his tension. “The summer I turned five. I’d just had a birthday.” She closed her eyes as if trying to visualize it, obviously not an easy thing for her to do. “My birthday balloons were still tied to my headboard. I was supposed to be taking a nap. I didn’t want to. I wanted to go to the playground at the apartment complex next door. My mom said she’d take me when I woke up from my nap, but I disobeyed and sneaked out of the house without her knowledge. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I went to the playground anyway, alone.” She shuddered. The story had taken a toll on

her. “That’s where he found me . . . I shouldn’t have been there . . .” Her shaky voice trailed off. “Do you know who he was?” Keene listened without emotion and always spoke in a firm, professional tone. She put her hands up to rub her eyes and strained to breathe for a few seconds. “I don’t know his name. He lived in the apartments. I’d seen him at the playground before, but my mom always went with me. I used to think it had been a man, but now—I think he was just a kid, maybe a teenager. “You have to understand, I really haven’t thought a lot about this. I’ve kept

it all buried, trapped in the back of my mind, because it hurt too much—it scared me. I’m so ashamed.” She rested her forehead on her arms. “Every time it did try to surface, I pushed it right back, because—because I couldn’t deal with it. The slightest hint of the memory always made me panic. I just wanted to pretend it didn’t happen. I wanted it all to go away.” “That’s understandable, but now that it has finally surfaced, it’s here to stay, and I’m here to help you learn to think about it, re-learn to think about it, without all the fear and anxiety it’s caused you all these years. It’s never going to be a pleasant memory, but you

can get to a place where you don’t have to allow it to affect your life so negatively anymore,” the practiced doctor assured. “It has affected you, and it will always affect you, but with a little work, re-training your thought processes to deal with it in a healthier way, you can come to terms with it, make peace with it.” The pained look on her face made Paul feel the need to hold her. He rocked in his chair, indecisively, wanting to race to her and take her in his arms, but he didn’t move. He wondered if he would ever be able to touch her again without worrying what it would do to

her. “Most small children have trouble comprehending age. When you ask children how old their mothers are, they’ll often tell you she’s a hundred years old.” “He wasn’t a hundred,” she said dryly. Paul ducked his head to hide his grin. There’s my feisty girl. “You stated you weren’t sure if he actually penetrated you. The hospital performed an examination. Your hymen is still intact.” Keene looked somewhat surprised. “If you weren’t still a virgin, we might never know the answer to that question.”

“Phew! Who would have thought? Apparently it does come in handy.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. Paul noticed Dr. Keene raise an eyebrow. It seemed he’d found another topic to explore, later. The doc pushed on. “Based on that fact, I think you may be right about him being in his early teens. That would explain a few things. He was old enough to be too large to easily penetrate such a small child, yet, too inexperienced to hold his arousal long enough to figure out how.” Listening to Keene talk so casually about the maggot made Paul squirm. His jaw set and the muscle in his cheek twitched while he fantasized about

hunting the kid down and beating the life out of him. The creepazoid would be a man now, I’d have to hire a— “Paul. Stop it.” Rhees’ voice brought him back to the present. “Stop what?” He thought he’d missed what she and Keene were talking about and felt guilty for zoning out on such an important conversation. “I know that look. Don’t go there. You have to promise me you won’t do anything . . .” She paused. Her lips trembled as she struggled to get the words out. She looked down at her hands, the hands she rubbed and manipulated over and over. “I hate him enough for the both of us.

I need you to stay calm, and reasonable, and not go to prison, so stop plotting murd—” “Why do you always think I’m going to kill someone?” Paul wondered how she knew, she read him too well sometimes. She was right in this case, but it wasn’t the time. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” “He’s wasted enough of our time already.” He nodded in resignation, ashamed she’d had to be the one to point it out to him. She shouldn’t have had to do that. Keene stared at him, the expression on his face unreadable. “My whole life, I worked so hard to

make up for what I did—forget it happened, to pretend like it didn’t.” Her eyes looked down at her wringing hands. “It terrified me to think it might happen again. I became the perfect child— daughter. I never willfully disobeyed again for fear—” “There’s nothing to be ashamed about, Baby.” How is she ashamed about this? She didn’t do anything wrong. “It’s good to get it out in the open,” Keene said. Her eyes shot up to meet his. “It doesn’t feel good! It doesn’t feel good at all—it feels horrible! I didn’t want anyone to know, ever.” Both men sat

quietly, wondering what to say, knowing they didn’t have the answer. Her shoulders suddenly dropped and the next words burst out of her in a surprising rush. “Do I have a sign on me somewhere that says, ‘Rape me’?” The question sputtered out, the desperation in her voice clear. “Because this last one makes three attempts.” She covered her face with her hands. Her breathing grew labored as she tried to stem the urge to cry. Paul didn’t hesitate to move to her this time, but she put her hand up, stopping him cold. He slinked back to his chair, the sting of her rejection on full display before he noticed Keene

watching him again. What’s he looking at me for? I’m paying him to help Rhees. Paul glared back until the doctor returned his attention to the real patient. “It’s very likely you do send out signals,” Keene said. “Signals that experienced predators pick up on. A tiger knows how to pick out the weakest animal in the herd—the one that’ll give it the best odds of making a kill.” Rhees turned pale. She looked ill. “A staggering number of the victims of childhood sexual abuse become the victims of rape as adults, but most of these children know their attackers, and the abuse is repetitive, often goes on for

years. Your case is different, but I do know that these crimes against children derail normal, healthy development. I see the same symptoms in so many of my patients. Self-loathing, low self-esteem, trouble sleeping, social isolation, fear of intimacy, sexual dysfunction—the extreme guilt they carry around with them is indisputably disabling. “The traumatic damage to a child’s developing sexuality manifests itself in strange ways. A few withdraw; forgoing sex altogether—like you, but the most common response is acting out recklessly, promiscuity—putting themselves in dangerous situations sexually. A few even fantasize about

rape, watch rape fantasy porn or put themselves in situations where they’re more likely to be raped, such as walking alone at night, or sleeping with strangers. It’s the same form of selfinjury as, let’s say, cutting or selfflagellation. It’s all about the shame and guilt, the self-loathing.” “She didn’t want those sleazebags to rape her,” Paul hissed. He’d researched it. He knew about all of it . . . except the rape fantasy part. Rhees’ symptoms had been easy to recognize, the low selfesteem, social isolation, the fear of intimacy—at least, up until just before their engagement.

Rhees’ alarmed eyes darted to Keene as the words spewed from Paul’s mouth and then she looked down. “Rhees, do you want me to ask him to leave?” Keene glanced at Paul as he asked the question. It took her a few seconds to answer. “No,” she said quietly, but then looked down. They all sat without speaking for several seconds. “The thing I hate the most . . .” She finally broke the silence. She choked up, forcing herself to move the conversation along. “Creepy’s dead. Mario’s in prison for a long time, so neither of them are going to hurt anyone else, but what if . . .

what if he’s still out there? I didn’t tell anyone—” she stammered. “How many other children did he do this to? Is he still doing it because I was too ashamed to tell anyone? I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with myself knowing he’s still out there because of me.” “You were a baby for crying out loud!” Paul jumped up from his seat again. “You were so traumatized you’ve spent your whole life trying to forget this tragic memory. You were just trying to survive. Rhees, please don’t internalize that kind of guilt. Don’t let that fu . . . that bastard victimize you again.” Paul knew he needed to control his

temper and watch his words, but this whole thing left him feeling incensed. He realized what a bad idea it would be to call the man who’d tried to rape her, a fucking bastard, but he knew her too well. She’d already figured out a way to victimize herself all over again with her own compassion. “Paul, I’ll have to ask you to leave if you can’t calm down and be quiet. Let Rhees do the talking.” Paul made an apologetic gesture and sat back down with a frustrated sigh. “Rhees, you have a problem with physical intimacy.” It was a statement, not a question. Her eyes flashed to Paul. He sat

forward, waiting to hear her response. “I guess so. At least, I did, before Paul.” Paul ran his hand through his hair. It kept hitting him, over and over, how much one horrible incident had affected her entire life. No wonder she’d tensed up every time he touched her, had panic attacks after what Mario tried to do to her. oOo The next day, Keene skillfully worked his way to where she’d left off. “I never allowed myself sexual urges—I never wanted to have them. They brought back the memory—it frightened me, to the point of incapacity.

I couldn’t get anywhere near those feelings without a meltdown, and meltdowns called too much attention, people demanded an explanation—I couldn’t allow that. “It’s not like it was hard. I never felt temptation. It wasn’t until Paul kissed me—really kissed me, the first time, in my bedroom—I almost liked it—I was so conflicted.” “Conflicted?” “Like I said, I almost liked it. That was a real problem for me.” “So you never, almost liked anything like that before?” “No. There’s only been one other boy I ever considered letting do that to

me. I didn’t want to—it wasn’t that I was tempted. Roney was impatient and aggressive. Each time we made out, he’d push the intimacy, I’d freak out, and he’d stop. He frightened me—made me remember. But my friend made me feel like I had to—and I couldn’t let her know what was wrong with me. She’d ask me why I wouldn’t just do it, but I couldn’t tell her. Then Roney pulled the hurt feelings card and I felt so bad. I decided I had to let him.” Paul noticed the way she’d said let him. She’d used the same terminology with him. “How do you think that would have worked?” Keene asked. Rhees hung her

head and shrugged. “There’re a lot of things we have to do that are hard,” she mumbled. “But we have to just get through it, somehow. Roney was too impatient. It all blew up before I had to figure that out.” “So there were no other memorable instances before your husband?” “It was pretty easy to avoid sexuality where I grew up. At least for me and my hyper, I’d-rather-gut-myself-than-eventhink-about-it, tendencies. I got engaged to one other man, but there was no intimacy there. We never reached the point in our relationship where I had to worry about it. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure what I would have done if

we’d actually made it to our wedding night.” She seemed to be pondering something. “Paul thinks Sean is gay. If that’s true, maybe Sean would’ve been okay with never consummating the marriage. None of this would have ever come out.” She slipped into her own head again. “What about the drummer? You said he kissed you.” Paul decided to push for some clarification on that night. He already felt his heart being squeezed, the way she talked about all of it, as if she didn’t understand how telling her words were about their relationship. “Rob didn’t paw me or put any pressure on me. He gave me one, slow,

polite kiss. I saw it coming. I didn’t feel threatened by it. He was too nice.” “He had his hands all over you, up on the stage.” “No, he didn’t.” Paul rolled his eyes. “That’s how I remember it.” “He gave me a drum lesson. I guess, keeping my mind focused on not embarrassing myself on the drums kept it off of the fear of being raped, right there in front of a hundred people!” Her eyes danced and Paul could tell she almost giggled, but a grin twisted at her mouth instead. “Paul. I can’t believe you’re still jealous about the drummer and that one little kiss.”

He’d just witnessed the first hint of happy in her for days. Paul couldn’t help the grin he gave her in return. Keene interrupted with his next question. “How did you come to wind up with Paul?” Keene asked. “Let’s explore how you overcame your fears to end up marrying him.” “Um . . .” Rhees blushed and squirmed, having trouble deciding what she’d say. “The first two days, he scared me to death, but then . . .” It took her a second to choose her words again. “We had a misunderstanding. He hated me —” “I didn’t hate her,” Paul interjected. “I wanted to, but hating her is not

possible.” She grinned again. “He did a very good job of pretending to hate me. It gave me a chance to get to know him without ever feeling threatened because there was no way I’d ever have sex with him. He reminded me—still reminds me . . . Paul has a lot of the same qualities I loved in my dad. He died a little over a year ago.” “So how did you go from feeling safe from Paul’s advances to almost liking that first kiss, an obvious advance?” Keene prodded. “It wasn’t our first kiss, but when we called our truce, we were supposed to be friends. I really believed we were

just friends.” She glanced at Paul and he looked ashamed at how he’d used that to get close enough to try to take advantage of her. “As I said, I’d had time to get to know him. I’d already fallen in love with him. He made me feel safe—even if he really wasn’t. I thought he’d be safe because we were just friends and he was still womanizing . . .” Rhees covered her face with her hands. “Go ahead, Baby. It’s okay—it’s the truth. It won’t hurt my feelings.” Paul knew that was the reason she didn’t want to finish her sentence. She nodded but she wouldn’t look up. “Paul wasn’t the kind of man you’d

think could ever settle down—settle for just one woman—let alone me. When he kissed me that night, my heart liked it— for about five seconds until my head took over and I started to react in my usual way. “We talked that night and he started asking me to let him help me through it. I found myself almost wanting him to—I had to stop those feelings the fastest way possible. I had to shut him down with the clearest message I could. I called him the epitome of every reason I had for wanting to wait. I felt so bad for saying something so cruel. I didn’t really mean it—it was just a defense mechanism because I felt desire for him, but I

couldn’t allow that.” Paul thought about that night. How creative she’d been. He’d been persuasive, persistent, but she’d cut him down effectively. She’d spent her whole life perfecting the art of cutting men down, cutting them off at the pass— stealthy and lethal. He understood. “It was the best thing that could’ve happened to us,” Paul added. “It made me want to change, it did change me, and it gave Rhees the time she needed.” “You are married now. Paul isn’t gay. Have you really thought that through?” Her eyes shot to her husband.

“Thought what through? Since that night, Paul’s been absolutely perfect, more than patient, while I worked through it. I trust him more than anyone. He put up with me when I couldn’t stand anyone, even him, touching me—until I could. For the first time in my life, my hormones were connected to Paul instead of what happened in that bathroom. I wanted him.” She went silent as she and Paul watched each other, both uncertain how all that would fit into their relationship now. Paul again noticed the way she’d said, wanted, as in past tense, but he didn’t care. He’d finally seen flashes of happiness in her eyes and it assured him

she’d be all right. He winked. Tough as nails. “Marriage for victims of sexual trauma is statistically a difficult road.” Paul and Rhees turned their gazes to Keene, waiting for the punch line, not realizing he’d already given it. oOo Rhees assured Paul it would be okay to sleep in the bed that night, but he still didn’t sleep well. He worried he’d do what he’d grown so used to doing in his sleep and pull her in to cuddle. Hearing her scream at him to not touch her was something he never wanted to experience again. He held her hand all

night, the only part of her he dared to touch. The next day, after another grueling session, Dr. Keene asked if he could speak to Paul, alone. Rhees agreed and stepped out onto the balcony. “I mentioned it before, but marriage to a victim of childhood sexualization can be very difficult.” Keene leaned forward, conveying to Paul the importance of what he had to say. “You haven’t consummated this marriage yet. It might be easier for both of you if you got an annulment while it’s still simple and easy.” “Annulment?” Paul yelled. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“No.” Rhees felt her heart stop. She heard Paul say the word. The glass door wasn’t as soundproof as she’d expected. Her hand flew to her heart and she had to sit down on one of the patio chairs to catch her breath. “He lied. He doesn’t want to be married to me now that he knows.” She felt blindsided. Her palms grew sweaty, jittery. The balcony suddenly seemed so far up from the street, she felt like she was going to fall off in spite of the secure railing. She couldn’t stay there any longer. She jumped up and knocked on the door to announce her presence as she opened it.

“I can’t stay out here. I’m sorry. Um . . . maybe I’ll go take a shower.” She ducked her head down and rushed through the room, on her way to the bathroom. “You okay, Baby?” Paul called after her. “Fine.” She disappeared as she ran through the dressing room and into the bathroom and then the shower. Frantically, she started turning knobs. She’d never seen so many in one shower, and didn’t know how they worked, but she needed to hear the water, hopeful the sound would drown out any more of Paul’s discussion about how he planned to leave her.

Water flowed from several directions, loud and clear, and she backed away until the wall stopped her from retreating further. She covered her eyes with her hands, slid down to the ground and just waited, dreading what she feared would happen next. She prayed over and over that Paul wouldn’t walk in any minute to tell her he didn’t want to be married to her anymore. oOo “I love Rhees.” Paul turned back to Keene and resumed their conversation. Dr. Keene winced with concern. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.” Paul gave him a dirty look. “It is for

me.” “She’s spent her whole life believing she’s dirty and bad. Even I’m amazed at the amount of effort, how creative she’s been at keeping it a secret for so long,” Keene said. “But now, it’s out in the open. She can start to heal. It’ll be better.” “It will get better.” Keene’s expression didn’t express optimism. “But let me describe your life if you stay with her, statistically speaking. I see how protective you are of her. You’re going to want to fix her. You can’t. Only she can do that, but too many of these victims don’t. She’ll accuse you of being controlling.”

“She already has,” Paul said with a chuckle. “Because it’s true, but she’s very good at letting me have it when I get carried away.” “Okay. Touching has been a problem for her. Your patience with her worked, but even though it may be okay now—or was before this incident, I hope, for your sake, she can reach that point again, but even if she does, it’s possible that it will never be over completely. What seems okay to her one day may not be okay the next. It could change instantly. You could be having an intimate moment, but suddenly, she’ll start screaming at you to stop. You’ll never know when or why.” Keene watched Paul intently as he

talked. “No one seems to understand what I get out of this relationship.” Paul’s frustration came through in his tone. “I’ve had more than my fair share of women. Yeah, for most of my life, sex has been too important, but now,” he said, his voice trailing off. He struggled with the words. “It didn’t take too long for me to realize I’d rather be with Rhees, without sex, than be without her. My selfimposed celibacy is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Being with her in a non-physical way is the only thing that was ever going to snap me out of my . . .” Paul caught himself. He didn’t intend

to be so open. Keene didn’t offer anything to help the awkward silence that had suddenly choked the room, so Paul jumped to finish his thought as quickly as possible. “I won’t lie and tell you I haven’t had thoughts about it—fantasized about sex with her, but that is not the reason I married her. I’ll manage as long as she’s still in my life.” Keene watched Paul for a minute but finally started rattling off more reasons why he thought being married to Rhees was a bad idea. “Self-worth. Victims don’t usually have any. They become cynical, run away from their problems, turn to

promiscuity, drug abuse, alcoholism. Their faith in relationships has been destroyed. They struggle to trust anyone. They’d rather be alone or they hold back rather than risk betrayal again. They can’t believe anyone could really love them. “When they do find themselves in a relationship, they resist allowing those natural bonds to deepen. They won’t have as much to lose when their partners leave them, because they’re sure they will, or they act abnormally desperate to please their partners, trying to keep them. When things get tough, they’ll assume the relationship is over. They may think it’s better to end it before their

partner has the chance to. “They’re distrustful and insecure. It gets tiring, having to prove your love to them, time after time. They accuse their partners of cheating or they act out on a heightened sense of jealousy in bizarre ways.” “Rhees is not a statistic. In fact, the picture you just painted sounds more like me than her,” Paul said cynically. Keene made a thoughtful face and wrote something down, which annoyed Paul even more. “Rhees has lived a lifetime of fear and self-loathing. She’ll have to learn a whole new set of thought processes, patterns. Most people struggle to learn a

few. I just don’t see her getting past this. She’s structured her whole life around it.” “This life you say she’s structured around this has been amazing. She’s an incredible person. She’s perfect. She’s managed her life through all this shit better than I have mine.” “Maybe you should share your shit with me.” Keene raised an eyebrow. “No.” This was supposed to be about Rhees, and Paul didn’t like the inference. “And bottom line, Rhees has been affected by this since I’ve known her. I’ve been dealing with it all along— I just didn’t know it. Knowing won’t change anything, or if it does, it can only

get better.” Memories of the time he and Rhees had spent together ran through his mind and made him smile. “I’ll deal with it, whatever happens. I love her. I’ll do everything in my power to give her whatever she needs.” “For the amount of money you’re paying me, and the amount of information I’m gleaning from both of you, I’m going to consider you both my patients.” Paul glowered at the doctor at first, understanding the insinuation, again, but upon reflection, he couldn’t help the slowly forming grin creeping over his face. He didn’t need a psychiatrist, not

anymore. Probably—definitely—one might have helped a few years before, but now . . . “Knock yourself out, Doc.” Keene harrumphed, a little too sure of himself. “Don’t dismiss the idea of annulment so quickly. Think about it. If your marriage is going to fall apart, it might be best to end it now, while you can still be friends.” “We won’t fall apart,” Paul said tersely. He’d grown very annoyed with the man charging him a fortune to tell him things he didn’t want to hear. oOo Paul heard the shower running and it

pleased him to see Rhees finally ready to get cleaned up after so many days, but he worried—she’d been in there too long. She never took long showers. Yes, the hotel had warm water, but still, too long. He fought the urge as long as he could, but finally peered around the corner, just to check on her. Rhees sat on the shower floor, curled up into the little ball that always made her feel a little safer when she didn’t really feel so safe. She held her head down as water poured over her from all directions in the elaborate plumbing design. Something was wrong. He inched cautiously through the bathroom to the door of the shower, not

really sure what to do, but he couldn’t leave her there like that. “The water’s warm,” she said, startling him. She hadn’t given him any reason to believe she knew he was there. “My parents showered together almost every day, for as long as I can remember. I thought that’s just what married people did. “In junior high, I overheard some girls in the bathroom at school. One of their sisters had just come back from her honeymoon and the girl was telling her friends how her sister’s new husband had picked the lock on the bathroom door and climbed into the shower with his new bride.

“The girls all squealed, like it was horrible, or embarrassing or something. For me—I saw nothing horrible about it. I just wondered how they didn’t know that married people are supposed to shower together. Of course, considering my problem with all that, I thought it really was just showering. I’d never thought about my parents—you know.” She looked up at him, her eyes teary with sadness. “But I’ve always believed married people are supposed to shower together. The cold showers at home are going to kind of ruin it, you know? Even if I ever do get over this . . .” Her voice trailed off, giving way to her weeping. As she told her story, Paul leaned his

back against the wall at the entrance of the shower. He put his hands in his pockets, his head drooped down, and his eyes closed as he listened. He took a long, deep breath and exhaled before he grabbed a towel and walked into the shower, clothes and all. He drew her up from the floor, wrapped the towel around her body and then lifted her into his arms. She wrapped herself around him and he held her lovingly, his soaked clothes and her towel between them as they took their first shower together as a married couple.

Chapter 9 hees lay on her side, watching Paul sleep. He never slept so late. At seven forty-six, he finally opened his eyes, but didn’t notice her watching him. He

looked at the clock and seemed alarmed until he looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. He relaxed, as if just realizing he wasn’t in their own bed at home. His eyes settled on the drawn curtains making the room darker than it should have been at that hour. “Huh. All this laying around is wearing me out,” he muttered before he noticed her scrutinizing him. He rolled to face her. “What’re you thinking?” She shrugged, but her cheeks suddenly felt a little warm. He reached to touch her hair but she flinched and he pulled his hand back with a frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I should have

R

given you more warning.” “No. I’m the one who’s sorry.” She closed her eyes and summoned the courage to speak. “I’ve been thinking about things, about all of it,” she said, quietly. “What Keene said.” Paul wrinkled his forehead with concern. “The doctor said a lot of things.” She forced a smile and changed her mind about the subject she’d tried to approach. “I’ve been watching you sleep. Wondering how you can possibly look so dang good, even with your mouth all hanging open, the drool dribbling onto your pillow—”

“I do nawt drool.” His brow creased as he flashed her cautioning eyes with a cocky smile. She smiled for him again and took his hand, pulling it to her face. She tucked it under her cheek, hoping he’d forget how she’d just rejected him seconds before. “Did you come to any conclusions?” “About how you can look so good when you drool?” She almost laughed. “Watch it!” he growled, pretending to be angry. “I don’t want to talk to Keene today.” She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She’d wanted to lighten the mood, but she just couldn’t

with so much running through her head. “Okay, um . . . that’s good—” She’d surprised him. He hadn’t expected to have to tell her so soon. “I mean, since he told me, just before he left last night, um, he has to get back to the States to check in on his other patients,” Paul lied. He’d told Keene they wouldn’t need his help anymore. He was still stewing about the doctor suggesting he give up on Rhees. Annul our marriage—like hell I will. “We’ll find a new doctor. There’re other doctors.” “I don’t want a new doctor.” “Okay.” Paul tried to hide his disappointment. “We can call him—talk

to him on the phone if you need him—the hotel phone. We’re going to have to buy new phones at some point.” Paul thought of all the things he still needed to do since the hijackers had taken their phones, their wallets, their lives. He’d been so worried, he hadn’t thought about taking care of anything except Rhees. “I don’t want to talk to Keene anymore either.” He reached over and gently pulled her to face him, suddenly more worried about her reasons for not wanting to see Keene than his own. “Why don’t you want to talk to him? He’s supposed to help.”

Rhees couldn’t tell him she didn’t want to continue working with the man who’d conspired with her husband, in any way—she didn’t hear the conversation so she didn’t know to what extent, but she’d heard the word annulment. He and Paul had discussed ending her marriage. She shrugged. “I’m tired of talking about it. I’m just tired of talking, period.” “Okay.” She watched as his tongue slipped across the inside of his cheek and then flicked over his lips. They puckered a few times. He was nervous. “How about today, I do the talking then?” he finally offered.

“That’ll take all of three minutes.” Her smile returned—a genuine smile. “Oh, yeah?” He gave her another warning glance, which made her smile spread even wider. She nodded, very deliberately, letting him know she didn’t think he could do it. “You’re going to have to tell me to shut up, because I won’t stop talking until you beg me.” “I can’t wait to see this, or hear this, I should say.” He winked, but then he just watched her for a while, taking her in, stalling. “I thought you meant you were going to talk, with your voice, not just your

beautiful blue eyes. I know they speak volumes, but—” “Okay, okay.” Paul chuckled. “So the story, as I’ve heard it told many times over the years, and as I grew older, I started inserting a few of my own opinions about what might have really happened, goes like this.” Paul took a deep breath. “I told you, my dad, Laird, was the stereotypical surfer from L.A., and Caroline Sutton, my mom, was a wealthy, old money girl from Boston. She’d graduated college and was about to start medical school when she and some friends took a trip to California, and that’s where my parents met.

“Dad worked at Universal Studios running one of the rides when she and her friends showed up at his station. He always said she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. She took his breath away. Well, he put my mom on the ride, told his co-workers he was taking a break and jumped into the seat next to her, separating her from her friends, and off they went. He followed her around the rest of the day.” Paul had taken a strand of Rhees’ hair and twirled it around his finger as he spoke. “Said he didn’t care he wouldn’t have a job to come back to the next day, because she was worth it.”

“They were from completely opposite worlds, but they ended up in Vegas, married. How’s that for a love story, huh?” He sounded a little cynical. Rhees nodded, listening carefully, thinking how romantic it did sound. “We’ll have to make something up. I don’t want our kids to know what you thought of me the first few weeks.” “You mean lie?” His brows furrowed in mock offense. “You think I would lie to my own kids?” “Mr. Compulsive Liar? Yes.” She giggled and then noticed the warm expression on his face when she did. “Only every time the opportunity presents itself. Duh.” He chuckled but

then he rolled onto his stomach and rested his chin on his crossed arms, staring at the headboard for a few seconds. He glanced back at her from the corner of his eye. “We won’t need to lie,” he said solemnly. “They’ll know you as well as I do, so they’ll understand completely how the magnitude of your greatness just scared the shi—crap out of me.” “Oh, gosh.” She rolled her eyes, not convinced his plan was better than hers. “Sorry, I interrupted. Please continue.” “Well, you might have guessed, but my mom’s parents weren’t terribly happy about the surprise their daughter brought back to Boston with her. They

agreed to pay for med school, you know, so the little hiccup in her life called a bad marital choice, a manifestation of her apparent temporary insanity, wouldn’t derail her entire life, but they pretty much disinherited her. They’d hoped she’d miss the lifestyle and come to her senses, divorce him—but they didn’t know my dad. He doesn’t go down without a fight—he doesn’t go down, period.” “Mom got pregnant with Pete right away.” Paul rolled onto his side and gave Rhees a knowing look. “I suspect dad had something to do with that.” He’d made Rhees laugh. “Of course

he did, silly.” It took Paul a second to catch up—he didn’t really hear himself, but mostly, he’d been mesmerized by her laughter. “Well, yeah, that too.” Paul chuckled and actually looked embarrassed. “I meant the strategy of how it happened, not the basics of human reproduction,” he said, still laughing at himself to keep her laughing. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to hear it. “Dad jokes about poking holes in all the condoms—he jokes about it, but if he thought mom had doubts about the kind of life he could give her? If he thought there was any chance she’d give in to the

pressure her parents put on her to annul the marriage or divorce him—he wanted to keep her, and dad always gets what he wants. “He knew how much medical school meant to her, bragged to everyone about the smart girl he’d married. ‘Beauty and brains’, he always said. Mom countered by telling people dad was the smart one, that she was just smart enough to recognize a smart man when she saw one. Mom was—is very intelligent.” Paul paused. “Most of the time.” “That’s where you get it from then.” Rhees lightly tapped his temple. “You’re smart like your mom.” Paul blinked a few times. “Mm,

maybe—I don’t know.” He exhaled loudly, frustrated. He’d never had to explain it. “I used to tell myself it was more like mom and dad, added together, and then some. Rhees, I don’t talk about this. No one knows.” “Pfft. It’s obvious. You’re freakishly intelligent.” She smiled at him, beaming with pride. “It’s not obvious.” He narrowed his eyes. “That’s the point. I work too hard to make sure people don’t notice. I guess I am intelligent, and I may even be a freak, but I learned a while ago, not to put too much stock in myself.” He made a few more faces, suddenly agitated with himself.

“It’s hard to turn it off, to think about normal, good—not worrisome, problem solving shi—stuff . . .” He paused and closed his eyes. She let him have a minute to his thoughts. She was so good about that, as if she knew when he needed time to try to slow it all down. Thinking of her was definitely one of the good things to think about—most of the time. Lately, thinking about what she was going through, not so much. “My family has an idea, I guess. I think my dad knows more than anyone.” He thought about it. “Since I didn’t speak until I was older, people underestimated me. It didn’t take me long to figure out I preferred it that way,

so I only gave as much as I wanted them to see. Every teacher, anyone else who started to suspect, I allowed them to know I was the smartest kid in school, but at the same time, things got weird whenever they started to suspect I might be the smartest kid in the world.” Paul’s eyes flashed to Rhees. “I’m kidding. I wasn’t—I’m not.” He got quiet again. “So you’d do something to throw them off your scent. Have sex with girls under the bleachers, intimidate people in the halls, get suspended from school, hop freight trains.” He grinned, amused she remembered, but ashamed as well. He nodded.

“Something like that, but you see through me, always have.” Paul averted his eyes, uncomfortable with the idea, but then grinned self-consciously again. “You know me better than anyone. How did I possibly convince you to marry me?” She made a face, teasing him, as if to say she wondered the same thing, but then she smiled warmly. “That is exactly why I married you—because I see all the many, wonderful talents and qualities that make you, you. I love everything about you, almost everything.” He glanced sideways at her, waiting for her to qualify the last part of her statement.

“I love you because of what’s in here.” She placed her hand over his heart. “You like big, empty holes where hearts should be, huh?” He frowned, and she mimicked his expression, positioning herself to make sure he’d see how he looked. She was so cute, even when she was about to scold him— especially when she was about to let him have it. “You are ninety-eight percent perfect, but the last two percent is absolute bull-arkey.” “Bull-arkey?” He pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. “Yeah.” Rhees tried to ignore him in

favor of getting back to her point. “I love you anyway, but that is definitely one of the things I could live without.” His brow arched, questioningly. “Your refusal to see any good in yourself.” She slapped her finger over his lips to hush the smart-mouthed retort he was about to make. “—And don’t even try to tell me there is no good. I know better.” He pursed his mouth and licked his lips, thoughtfully. He conceded—to save an argument. She smiled because of her small victory and it made him smile too. “You’re the boss,” he said, making her giggle. He watched her, enjoying the smile on her face.

“So, what comes next?” He rolled onto his back, raised his good arm over his head and rested on his palm. “So, dad stayed home to care for the baby while mom worked away at medical school,” Paul jumped back into his story where he’d left off. “I came along two years later, fast for someone as busy as she was. Then Mary came along during mom’s residency. Mom had to be gone a lot, but ole Laird was a great dad, just a big kid himself. We had so much fun together—even more fun on the rare occasion mom could break away and spend time with us.”

Rhees smiled, watching Paul’s eyes sparkle at the fond memories. So many times, she’d thought of Paul as a big kid too. With each passing minute, listening to him, watching his expressions, she knew why she’d fallen so hard for this man. She wondered how she’d wound up afraid to love him, again—well she knew how, but looking at him now, being next to him—she longed to have those feelings back. She made up her mind. She’d do whatever it took to get that desire back as soon as possible. “Whenever mom had time off, dad would drive us to the beach, and we’d hang out all day. I think that’s how I

developed my love of the ocean. It fascinated me. I never grew tired of our beach days. “Sometimes we’d have to go to my mom’s parents’ house for these parties. ‘The Big-Ass House’, as my dad called it. Dad hated them, but mom . . . didn’t. They were the one way she had to stay connected to what she’d lost, and I think dad felt threatened. I remember my parents fighting about it. “I didn’t talk until I was older, the end of kindergarten. I could have, I just didn’t want to, and when I did, I regretted ever starting. As soon as I opened my mouth, the girls realized there was nothing wrong with me, after

all. That’s when they started chasing me.” “Why did you decide to talk? If you always could, but chose not to, what made you change your mind?” “Mmm.” A cute smile spread across his face. “I just got so freaking tired of Taye doing the talking for me.” “You’ve known Taylor that long?” “Yeah. I know he’s obnoxious, rude, and crude, but he’s always been there for me in a way that never demanded anything I didn’t want to give, in return. I never had to work at that friendship. Taye was just there, no matter what. Rhees, his madcap antics kept me sane when nothing else made sense. The way

my head works, sometimes I get . . . I don’t want to get into that. “Suffice it to say, Taylor never got tired of me. He treated me like shit when I needed it, which I did, too often. My brother Pete, my sister, they were my world, but the older we got—things changed. I don’t know what would have happened if it weren’t for Taye—David and Bryce too. I didn’t know them until junior high, but my friends kept me . . .” He paused. “Now you do, even more.” “More what?” “Nothing.” He winked and flaunted his crooked smile. “You just do.” She let it go. She’d grown used to letting him have his secrets, and if today

was any indication, he’d get around to telling her someday. That is, if he didn’t plan to annul their marriage. He’d kept her mind off of it, made her forget the unpleasant memory of hearing him talk about annulment with Keene. She didn’t understand why they talked about it. Now he was finally opening up to her. They were talking about kids, a future together, she felt confused, but hopeful she’d just misunderstood. “Pete had always done the talking for me, always telling people, ‘Paul wants this, or Paul thinks that’. It never bothered me when my brother did it. He got it right most of the time, but then, there I was, a shy, quiet is an

understatement, kid, trying to adjust to being in school, being around all those strangers. It really stressed me out. “And suddenly, there’s this loudmouthed, screwball kid who, as the year went on, for some reason thought he knew what was on my mind. Taye was always getting me into trouble, saying things I never would, making me look stupid. My teacher already thought I had some learning disability. She talked to my parents and the principal about her concerns, right in front of me—as though not talking meant I didn’t understand what she was saying. She pushed to have me put into Special Ed because of my ‘developmental challenges’.

“I hadn’t figured out yet that I wasn’t normal, but more and more, I scored better than anyone in the class, the school, but that teacher knew there had to be something wrong with me, or I’d talk.” He gave Rhees a comical look. “But that was later. You made me jump too far ahead.” “Sorry.” She pretended to zip her mouth shut. “At home, back to before I started school, dad got sick of my grandparents treating him like the worst thing that ever happened to their daughter, and maybe it came from his fear of losing her, but instead of being the best dad in the world, he started talking on the phone all

day. He’d go down the list of all of my mom’s friends, looking for anyone who’d listen. Mom had no idea. “He called my grandfather’s friends too.” Paul laughed and shook his head at the memory. “Oh, grandfather was pissed, but by the time he found out, a few years later, all the right people were falling all over my dad, clamoring for his attention, not wanting to be left out. “But before that happened, mom would be at the hospital for, sometimes it seemed like days. Dad had business to attend to, and I think he grew frustrated, being stuck with the kids all day. He took to locking us in our room, for hours —sometimes felt like days.” His voice

trailed off as though talking about it made him feel like he was back there again. “We lived in a small two-bedroom apartment at the time, so the three of us shared the same room. Mary slept a lot, but I’d keep her entertained when she wasn’t. I’d feed her the bottles dad left in the crib. I didn’t do so well trying to change her diapers, though.” “You were only, what, three years old?” Paul shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. He’d only done what was necessary. “Pete would cry and bang on the door. It didn’t help. Dad never came until he was good and ready.” Paul

seemed to take a second to think about it and made one of his angry faces. “So I’d distract him by showing him how much fun we could have, playing with the toys. Pete really loved his trucks. I tried to keep them happy, but I’d go stir-crazy. When they didn’t need me, I’d climb up on the dresser and watch out the window, wishing I could be outside.” “You still do that.” “What?” “At the shop, when you get stuck in the office for too long, you stare out the window and wish you were outside.” “Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess I do.” They both grinned. “I missed my happy family. I’d

grown used to mom not being around much, but it was like losing my dad. Suddenly it felt like the sun just stopped coming up.” Paul looked at Rhees with sad eyes. “I’m sorry. That trivializes what you’ve gone through. You really did lose your parents. I just lost the good times.” “Your world went from one happy, loved and cared-for reality, to a lonely reality of neglect. You were just a little boy. I’m sure it was a loss all the same.” It hurt Rhees to think of three babies, her beautiful baby, locked in a room all day like that. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Pete started school and it was just Mare and I. He

was only gone part of the day, but I counted the seconds he was gone, envied him. I loved Mary so much. She was so tiny, and cute, and helpless. I’d climb into her crib and play with her while Pete was at school. I’d make faces so she’d laugh. She was the sweetest thing. I’d get so angry, to think she’d never know what she was missing. She’d never know the good times.” He changed the subject. “Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep when I’m alone. We went from being practically on top of each other, stuck together in that tiny little room, day and night, to what came next.” “And the reason you hate

confinement,” she added. “The reason you pay a fortune for hotel suites with lots of rooms, and the reason you like my humongous apartment.” Rhees laughed at the last part. Her apartment was tiny, but it was a mansion compared to his. She’d become so interested in his story. This felt like old times, in reverse —she usually told the long stories. She turned her back to Paul and burrowed into his front, making herself comfortable and making him spoon her, the way they always did at home. He put his arms around her and nestled his face in her hair and inhaled her scent. “Aw Baby,” he breathed. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you. I’ve been

so worried.” “I’m sorry.” She went still from the reminder. He noticed and started to pull away to give her space. “No, don’t let go. I want you to hold me.” She was determined to believe that. She forced herself to believe it. He breathed relief and snuggled back around her. “Please, keep going,” she said, desperate to get her mind on something else besides the horrible incident that had ruled her life. “Let’s see.” He thought a moment. “I’ll jump ahead a little or this is going to take weeks. Mom finished her residency and started a job at the

hospital in Boston, but my parents fought about it. Their list of things to fight about grew by the month. Dad wanted to go back to the sand and surf, but mom loved the east coast. Things got pretty bad for a while, until they finally compromised by moving us to Miami. “Dad hadn’t told anyone, including mom, how his business was really going until we moved. She knew he’d been dabbling with a few investments, and that things were looking up, but she didn’t know how up. He’d been reinvesting instead of taking the money we could have used to live on, so she really didn’t know how successful he’d become.

“We loaded up the rented moving van and headed to our new house, the one he’d bought as a surprise. He made us all close our eyes as we pulled up the driveway. I remember him watching my mom’s face after he’d led us, eyes closed, out of the van so he could line us up in front of the house and yell, ‘surprise’. “Of course Mary and I had opened our eyes already, but I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Mom gasped, and then she cried. She hugged him, jumping all over him and peppering him with kisses. I remember thinking that things were finally going to be good again, seeing them act so loving with each

other. At the time, I didn’t realize it had more to do with the new house than the family. The thing was even bigger than the grandparents’ Big-Ass House. My mom’s happiness had more to do with her being reinstated to her social status than us.” Rhees frowned at the sadness of his statement but didn’t interrupt. “Each of us had our own, gigantic bedroom, bigger than yours and my apartments combined, but I hated it, sleeping alone in that big, scary room. About a year later, mom moved into her own room too. Pete tried to explain to me once why we didn’t want our parents not sleeping in the same bed anymore,

but somehow, all I got out of his talk was that everyone hated sleeping by themselves. I did, so I didn’t understand —if we all hated it, then why did we have to? “We didn’t have to be locked away anymore. Pete was in school, and I was about to start. The parents hired a nanny for Mare, another one for Pete and me. We had a cleaning staff too, and after eating what we could afford on a poor student’s budget for so long—my mom found Carmen to do the cooking.” Paul’s laughter had a hint of evil to it and Rhees knew there was more to the story than she could glean, but she didn’t want to interrupt him by asking about it.

“So, dad’s business had been going pretty well.” “Pretty well?” Rhees giggled. “That sounds a bit understated after all you’ve described.” “Aw, I’ve missed that sound.” He kissed her cheek and held her tighter. “I love hearing you laugh again.” “I’ve had a bit of a rough patch.” “A bit of a rough patch,” he said as casually as she had. “It’s my turn to let you know what an understatement your description is.” “I hate what I’ve put you through. I’m sorry.” Rhees held his arms to her, finding comfort with the closeness this time, something she’d wondered about,

worried it might never feel good again. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his palm, remembering how impossible the thought had seemed over the last week. “Keep talking. It’s helping.” “Can we switch sides? My arm is falling asleep.” He’d failed to mention how he’d been laying on his wounded arm for too long and it was killing him. Since she’d been the one to initiate the position, he’d willingly suffered through the ache for as long as he could stand. He flipped her around in an instant, and they wriggled themselves into each other to get comfortable again. “So yeah, maybe his business went a

little better than just well. Dad had capitalized on my mom and grandfather’s social circles and reputations, but in the end, he’d built a reputation of his own, started a ball rolling that would just keep getting bigger and crazier.” Paul tried to explain his dad’s business to her, something about acquisitions, and hostile takeovers, but she eventually admitted she would never understand, and asked him to move on. “Both of my parents were so wrapped up in their careers and growing social lives, they didn’t even try to act like a real family, anymore. We lived on the beach, but never spent one minute

there together, even though I stupidly asked almost every day for the first year. They ran the family like a business, all bottom line and public image management. “The last thing I wanted was all the attention they both seemed to live for. I had my own room, free roam of the house and grounds, and a hired staff to take care of the physical needs, but I think I still felt like a prisoner. The bigger jail cell just meant I was lonelier without my brother and my sister within an arm’s length all the time. “By the time I was ten, dad had started giving me little assignments, watching numbers, research, that sort of

thing. He’d somehow picked up on the way my head works. I think it started as a hunch, but by twelve, by trying to earn his approval, I’d unwittingly proved him right. He’d have his driver pick Pete and me up after school a couple days a week, and drop us off at the office to help him. My ability to sort through and remember details made me suited for the job, but Pete sucked at it, so I helped him. “I wanted him to look good, because I didn’t want dad to give up on him and stop letting him come to work with us. I felt like we had our dad back, the three boys, together, like old times. I didn’t want to lose that all over again. When

Mary got older, he tried to bring her in too, but she put her foot down, said she planned to be a doctor like mom. Dad accepted that and let her take her own path, but Pete and I were stuck. “It didn’t matter how much I helped my brother, he couldn’t keep up, and dad noticed. He was careless, heartless. He gave me the bigger projects, bigger commissions, a pittance of what I was earning for him, but as a young kid, it was all the money in the world. Because I was helping Pete just enough to convince dad he could do it, dad started saying that Pete just needed a little kick in the ass—I mean butt.” He stopped talking and glanced at Rhees,

contemplating something. “My mom would like you.” He strained at a smile as he veered off subject for the moment. “Taye and the guys, we used the worst language around each other. We all had controlling parents. It had to be a rebellion thing or something. Swearing made us feel more grown up, I guess. It almost became a contest to see who could say fu . . . the fword the most. “By the end of junior high, my attitude had grown so bad, I stopped using filters. It was one way to defy my parents, and there really wasn’t a thing they could do about it. Send me to my room? The room I’d been sneaking in

and out of for years? I guess they could’ve kicked me out, disowned me, but I doubt Laird was willing to lose his greatest asset.” Paul huffed a laugh, but it didn’t come from any humor in what he’d said. “Anyway, I said what I wanted. It didn’t matter who I was with anymore. My mom hated it. I embarrassed her in front of her friends. She’d ask why I always had to be such an ass. Now, with you, my regal princess, you make me want to watch what I say.” He smiled, genuinely this time. “And yes, my mom said ass when asking me why I had to use so many filthy words.” Rhees liked how he’d anticipated

her question. She thought of another. “Will I ever get to meet her?” She regretted asking when she saw the sting flash across his eyes. “Never mind. I know you never want to go back to Florida.” “I’m sorry, Rhees. I kind of walked into that one, didn’t I? I can never go back to Florida.” She actually turned and kissed his cheek to show her empathy for the ghosts of his past. He responded by resting his forehead on hers, letting out a long, grateful exhale. She put her hand on the side of his face and kissed him again, lightly on the lips. “Then what happened?”

Paul pushed another long and loud breath through his lips and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “Dad started screwing his secretary. Pete and I were right there, at the office when he did it. He’d send us out to her desk to answer the phones. You remember, I was eleven when—I knew what the fuck was happening!” So much for filtering his language for her, but Rhees knew him too well to mind. The memory really upset him. His swearing always got worse when he was angry or upset about something. Paul’s attempt at language control was a selfimposed crusade anyway. She’d never complained about his cursing, even

though she couldn’t say the same about him concerning hers. She finally realized what Paul was doing. He’d promised to tell her why he ran away from home if she’d tell him why she didn’t like to be touched. She’d told her story, unintentionally, but she’d confessed why she didn’t like to be touched, and now he wanted to keep his end of the deal. She scooted closer, leaned over him so he’d look at her. She put her hand on the side of his face again and gave him a sympathetic look. He closed his eyes, covered her hand with his and held it there. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I do.” Rhees understood the story would only get harder to tell, but he continued. She lay back down, facing him, very close, letting him know she was there for him. “For the next few years, it made me anxious, tore me up inside, worrying about what would happen if mom found out. Things were scary enough, all the fighting, the pretending. It terrified me to think of what would happen to our family. I didn’t want to lose what little I was so desperately hanging on to. “If there was one thing I knew Pete was better at than I, it was love. He was older than me and had a good head start.

He always had a girlfriend, and I’d listen to him go on and on, declaring his undying love for her, until the next one came along, a month later. I still bought it. “I’d never been in love. I’d lost my virginity, and I’d had way too much sex for someone my age, but I’d never felt anything for any of the girls. They were just there, always offering, and I was always horny, so I didn’t see any reason not to. “Pete was the only other person who knew what dad was doing. He was the only person I could ask, so I tried to talk to him about our parents, get his advice. He said, ‘It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean he

loves Eve’, dad’s secretary, ‘and it doesn’t mean he doesn’t still love mom’. That sounded logical to me. I’d never found a connection between the two, but it didn’t relieve my fear of what would happen to my family if my mom found out about it. “I grew to hate dad for being so reckless with all our lives. Eventually I found myself resenting mom too, for working such long hours when she should have been home. Now I understand their problems ran deeper than I understood, but if you make a promise—you shouldn’t make promises you don’t plan to keep!” Rhees understood now why it was

so important for Paul to keep his word, but talking about it had worked him up. She snuggled against him again, hoping to soothe him and quiet him down. He took a deep calming breath. “By fourteen, I couldn’t take it anymore. All the fear and anxiety tore me up. I didn’t think things could be much worse, so I decided it might be better to just get it over with. I told mom about dad’s affairs. She was a smart woman, had a successful career, she didn’t need him. I would be there for her, Pete and Mare too. We’d all move on, cut the poison from our lives, and build something new, something better.” He laughed at his own naivety.

“She told me to mind my own business. She knew—she already knew, and she actually got angry with me for telling her. Somehow I’d become the bad guy, just for knowing about it, or admitting it out loud. Heaven forbid. She didn’t seem to care so much about dad’s behavior, but that I knew about it, or that I might tell someone else. That’s what set her off. “I don’t know. That did something to me. It finally shattered what little illusion I’d been hanging on to, snapped my last thread of hope about being a happy family, or that they even existed. That’s when I decided love and relationships were figments of our

imaginations, just wishful, unrealistic thinking. “I’d still do anything for Pete and Mare, but we’d started to drift—be pulled apart, with all the pressure. Since the move, we were always on show, the perfect couple, the perfect kids, the perfect clothes, cars, house, the perfect fucking life! It was a lie—all a big lie.” Paul went on to explain the torturous pressure to exceed at everything. The growing expectations, the intolerance for failure, the temper tantrums, the ruthlessness, all added to his parents’ condemnation, especially his father’s, as he continued to work for his dad. “They pressured us all, but Pete, he

cracked or something. He wouldn’t let me help him with the business anymore. The pressure to keep up—keep up with me, because not only did I handle it, I made it all look easy. “I had the credits I needed to graduate high school early, but I liked football and hanging with Taye and the guys—they’d become my new family. They were real. They never expected anything from me except what I wanted to give. So I’d show up at the high school every morning to spend time with them until the bell rang, then I’d hop in my car, run to the university for classes, be back to have lunch with the guys. After lunch, I’d hang out in the coach’s

office. He’d arranged to have me as his student aide one period, P.E. another, study hall, etc., to make it look like I had the classes I needed to play on the team. I mostly just studied or took classes online until practice. “It became a fine line, hiding how easy it was for me. I didn’t like the attention I drew when I did too well, so I made a game of keeping people guessing. Blow one test out of the water, get the teachers wondering, and then make a stupid mistake on another. I didn’t want anyone to know, but at the same time, I drove myself, pushed myself, wondering if I’d ever find my limit.

“The more you do, the more people pile on, it’s never enough. The coach, the school, the university, mom, mostly my dad—and the business, but I gave them all what they wanted—right up to that last little bit that I had to hang on to for myself. “There’s no time to think about how screwed up things are when your mind is busy. I liked the challenge, and it felt kind of like I was rubbing it in everyone’s—my parents’ faces. In my mind, everything I did became an effort just to mock them. They wanted perfection and I gave it to them, but they wouldn’t recognize it if it bit them on the butt.

“I made Salutatorian.” Paul laughed, really laughed, and didn’t stop as he coughed out the next words. “I could have been Valedictorian, easily, but it felt so good to be second place—just barely. I had to listen to mom and dad bemoaning, for days, but it was great. ‘How could you come so close but miss the mark? If you weren’t so lazy, if you’d just put in a little more effort’ . . . It was the ultimate, ‘give em the finger’.” He pumped his fist in the air. “To top it all off, I was supposed to give a speech at graduation.” Paul snickered as he thought back on it. “I didn’t show. I didn’t tell anyone I wasn’t planning to attend my own graduation.

The guys and I just took off and had our first Testosterfest that year. “Imagining the look on my mom’s face, all dressed up. Puffing her chest that her son was Salutatorian, only second best, but hey, he was giving a speech at graduation. How many parents can say that?” He snorted another laugh but then turned thoughtful. He glanced at Rhees as if to see what she thought about that stunt. “I guess I not only graduated from high school with honors, but I’d also earned a master’s degree from the School of Assholery.” Paul stopped smiling and stared up at the ceiling. “I have a lot of, not-so-fine, moments, but

that one is at the top of the list—top ten. I know it was a jerk move, but I’d grown so tired of their bullshit.” “Paul, they’re just people,” Rhees whispered. “No one is perfect.” “No, no, no, no, no,” he spat out like a rapid-fire machine gun. “Don’t. Rhees —Baby, do not even—” “I really think it’d do you good if you could find it in your heart to forgive —” “I said, don’t!” He scowled, appearing apologetic, but torn. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but I just can’t go there.” Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away.

“Aw, see? This is you, Baby, so sweet and compassionate. You always care more about everyone else.” He snuggled up to her again, sincerely remorseful. “And this is me, I’m not like you, I don’t think I’m like anyone. Give me a logical, statistical, textbook challenge, even a physical challenge, any day of the week, but feelings, emotions, relationships.” He forced out a breath of air and then his mouth ran through a few familiar moves. “Truthfully, if it weren’t for Claire, I’m afraid I’d still be twiddling my thumbs, wondering, what the hell am I supposed to do with you? I don’t know if I would’ve ever figured it out on my

own.” He turned to face her, his expression pained but adoring. He tenderly stroked the line of her jaw with his knuckles. “What does that mean for us?” Rhees asked. “What if someday I do something you can’t find it in your heart to forgive?” His expression went blank, which didn’t help her feel encouraged. He leaned in close to her face, fixated on her eyes with a serious, brow-creased, rigid-mouthed, stare. “Not going to happen. You’re perfect.” A warm grin touched the corners of his mouth. “Over the last few years, I’ve learned I’m not nearly as

smart as I once thought I was, and I’ve struggled more than I should have to make sense of all this with you, but there’s one thing I know now with absolute certainty. I. Love. You.” “But—” “Danarya Williams Weaver, I love you, I love you, I love you.” He leaned in and gave her a long, soft kiss on the lips while holding his hand in her hair. “I’ve loved you from the beginning, but I will be forever grateful to Claire for helping me connect those dots before I screwed it all up and lost you.” Rhees gave him a tight, relieved hug. “You know this means I’m going to have to give Claire our first-born child.”

Rhees thought for a minute. “Wait. She’d see that as a curse, not a gesture of gratitude.” They both laughed, and Paul kissed her forehead. “Considering my issues, I needed you to take your time, we both needed it. I think God knew we were perfect for each other and brought us together,” Rhees said. “Huh.” Paul lay thoughtful for a minute and gave her forehead another kiss. He didn’t dare allow himself to believe that. If anything, he figured God had just messed up, letting Rhees anywhere near him, but then, before God could take her back, Paul had grabbed a

hold and hung onto her for dear life. No one else had ever made him want to be a better person. He wished he could be the kind of man she deserved, but he’d never believe he would be, or that he could ever be worthy of her. “So, what happened, next?” “What?” Paul thought she meant what happened after he’d played a game of tug-of-war with God over her. “What happened after you skipped out on your Salutatorian speech at graduation?” “Ah. I went back to normal—the Weaver normal. When I got back and endured the first twenty minutes of mom and dad’s lecture, I told them to go to

hell, but despite my one-time stand, I fell right back into their hamster wheel. I didn’t know any different. I didn’t know I had choices. So, I had degrees in Business and Marine Biology by the time I was twenty, Business for the parents’ circus, Marine Biology for me. Of course, Dad let me know he thought I’d been on track to do more.” Paul smirked about that. “Do more, as if what I did had anything to do with him. I’d grown tired. I’d been numb for so long, disillusioned. I was just going through the motions— with a lot of resentment—anger, but besides rebelling with the guys, I didn’t know what else I wanted to do. I started

law school, and of course, I still worked for good ole Laird. By the time I held my Juris Doctorate and passed the bar in three states—” “You’re a lawyer?” Her voice raised in surprise. Her gaze darted to him. “I never practiced. It was more a status symbol for the parents, but it did prove useful as I focused more and more on work. I was still the information man. My memory—my skills made me good at research, getting the information we needed, but I hated sitting at a computer all day. I needed to get out, be more hands on. “I no longer did the work just for

dad anymore. I was good at it, and I made money.” He frowned, thinking about the things he’d done, all in the name of business. “I got my hands dirty—all that pent up anger had found an outlet. I grew vicious, unwilling to let anyone stand in my way.” “I don’t believe that,” Rhees said. “Seriously?” Paul laughed, a little too hard. “Do you think Mr. Meaniehead made his first appearance just for you? No, Baby. Unfortunately, he’d had plenty of practice, and Mr. Meanie-head makes him sound like a children’s cartoon show compared to what he really was—” Paul went quiet, “—is.”

“Don’t. He’s not so bad.” “Bullshit. He made you miserable.” Sometimes Rhees made it hard not to get annoyed with her—when she refused to see him for what he really was, and then sometimes he loved her all the more for that very reason. “Maybe at first,” she reasoned. “But I saw through him, eventually. You were hurt. He’s your defense mechanism. I had very conflicting feelings for both of you.” “Um, I don’t think so,” Paul said incredulously. “I fell in love with him. Maybe I didn’t quite realize it right away, but now I can look back and see how much I

cared about you, even when you were acting like a stinker.” “Stinker?” He laughed. She’d already calmed him down, which was a good thing. He didn’t want to ruin her good mood, the good mood she hadn’t been in for too long. “You’re always justifying or defending my worst personality traits.” He rubbed his eyes. “I thought I was your one true love. That bastard, Mr. Meanie-head better leave my wife alone or I’ll beat the crap out of him.” “No, you won’t. I can handle him myself,” she scolded, but then grew sheepish. “I happen to think he’s cute . . . and kind of exciting. I love him, so

you’ll have to share.” Paul rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. He stared down at her, no more playful banter. “We’ll see if you’ll still say that when I’m finished telling my story.” “I don’t want you to finish then. It won’t change my mind—my heart, but because you think it might, I don’t want to hear it.” “Rhees, if we’re going to survive, we can’t leave all this shit hanging over our heads.” He held her gaze. “No more ticking time bombs between us, waiting to blow us up. Understand?” She nodded, reluctantly. He fell back

down on his back but turned his head to look at her. It took him a minute to get started again. He recounted more things his parents had done, mostly his father, but also things he’d done. It didn’t sound good. Paul had been an angry young man. “It was all about power, money, booze, and women.” He snorted ironically. “I’d become a younger version of Laird Weaver. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it’s true.” “No, it’s not. I don’t know him, but I don’t believe—” Paul didn’t seem to hear her, or he wouldn’t listen. “I missed what Pete had been up to. I —If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed, I would’ve noticed.” Paul closed his eyes

and had to take a minute. His mouth ran through several tics. Rhees couldn’t tell if they were sad or angry twitches. “I’d been so involved in my selfish, I’ve got to rule the fucking world, world.” He paused again. “Pete had started doing okay in the business, a little better than okay. Dad had been breaking his own arm patting himself on the back, bragging about how he’d finally whipped Peter into shape, but—” Paul scrunched his face up in pain. “Pete came to me. He was so agitated and . . . scared. He told me he was a dead man if I didn’t help him. When he told me what he’d done, I could have killed him myself.”

“But you didn’t!” Her words burst out like a plea. It couldn’t be Pete, Paul’s own brother. He couldn’t be the man Paul told Mitch he’d killed. “Damned, stupid idiot had gotten himself all wrapped up in some drug ring,” he said through clenched teeth, but not necessarily out of anger. There were too many emotions leaching from him for Rhees to keep up. “He’d been laundering drug money through dad’s business, making himself look like he was keeping up. Damned fool actually thought he could make dad proud of him, the way he thought dad was proud of me.” Paul choked out a noise that sounded like a cross between

a laugh and an anguished sob. “He’d put us all at risk, everything. Of course, I got angry, and threw a tantrum, asking him, over and over again, how he could be so stupid. At first he broke down and cried, begging me to fix it before they found out, but I was so enraged, I couldn’t offer him anything.” Paul’s breathing grew shallow and harsh. “And then, suddenly, he went off on me, ranting about how he wasn’t like me. I was the favorite son. Smarter, better —” Paul covered his face with his hands while he struggled to regain a little composure. “—he couldn’t make the kind of money dad and I were bringing

in, and of course, dad was always there to let him know how he needed to buckle down, try harder—be more like me— Pete was envious of a life I despised.” Paul sucked in a few unstable breaths. “I would have helped him, but he’d rather turn to the organization than me. I think he knew where my head was at, he didn’t believe I’d help, but I would have. He was my brother! I would have done anything for him.” Another sob made his whole body jerk. Rhees listened, trying not to cry herself as he sputtered the words, barely controlling his emotion enough to get them out. “It wasn’t enough he’d put everything at risk —we all could have ended up in prison

—or dead. Pete had been so starved for love, once dad, and mom too, started singing him a little praise, he wanted more. He started keeping more of the money than he was entitled to, and he’d dug himself so deep, he was sure they were only days away from figuring it out.” Paul threw both hands over his eyes again. Rhees could see his jaw quivering, and she wrapped her arms around him. “He begged me to fix it. He said it was my fault, and I had to fix it.” “You didn’t do anything wrong. Pete made his own choices.” “No. I’d checked out on him. I’d stopped paying attention to everyone but

myself. If I hadn’t been so—he was my brother—I should have protected him.” Paul looked at Rhees, his red-rimmed eyes shined with tears, and it broke her heart to see him so grieved. “You’re going to hate me,” he whispered. “Never. Nothing you say will change how I feel about you.” “I promised I’d help him.” He paused to let it sink in, watching her face, but she didn’t flinch. “I set my mind to learning the business—Pete’s business. I’m talented that way, remember? I can look at all the parts of a business and understand how to either make it work more efficiently, or tear it

to pieces. I couldn’t protect him unless I knew what I was up against, who I was up against.” He never took his eyes off of her, as if expecting her to run screaming from him any second. She didn’t move. “They wanted to make an example of Pete. They don’t tolerate what he did. I knew Pete wasn’t smart enough to get himself out of his mess, but I was. I was the smartest fucking man I knew.” Paul had the empty look in his eyes she’d learned to detest. The one he wore when he hated himself more than normal. “Please. I don’t like it when you get like this.” “Like what? Like me?” He shot her

an angry glance before taking a deep, apologetic breath and letting it out. He grabbed for her and pulled her to him, desperately. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, again. I really am. This is why I never talk about it.” His chest shook and she braced herself for more. “I haven’t even wanted to think about it for years. It makes me so— helpless—I hate feeling helpless.” “Then don’t. It’s all right.” “No. You should know about this. I should have told you before now.” The tears in his eyes spilled down his face. “I have to finish. I have to get it out.” “I know. I actually know, now, finally.” She closed her eyes and didn’t

let go of him. “Get it out. We’ll work on our secrets together.” “I offered them a deal they couldn’t refuse. I offered them me, my skills, in exchange for Pete’s life, and getting my dad’s business untangled from their web. It took a few months to prove myself, but they couldn’t deny how valuable I would be to the organization, and they agreed. “I worked with them for—too long —I didn’t want to do it. I was only doing what I needed to do to keep my brother alive, and keep them out of my dad’s business. As soon as I could, I began collecting evidence, incriminating information that I could use against them, for insurance, because I had no intention

of staying in. “That was the plan, and I was almost ready to make my move when dad said we had an emergency with our newest plant in Japan. I told him I couldn’t go right then, but dad doesn’t take no for an answer, so I had to postpone. It would still work; it would just take a little longer.” As Paul continued, the words came out in increasingly heavier sobs. Rhees had never seen him cry. She’d seen him upset to teary eyes, to a single sob here and there, but now he really cried, and she cried with him, hating how much he hurt, wishing he would stop, that she could make it all better.

“I told Pete to lay low until I got back—I don’t know what happened,” he cried. “My plane had landed in Miami. I’d just put my bag in the car when Pete called. ‘We have a problem.’ he said. ‘I’m at the warehouse, you know which one. Angelo’s freaking out because you left. I panicked.’ ‘What the fuck did you do?’ I screamed, but the line went dead.” Paul swiped at his tears with the back of his hand. “I raced out of the airport parking lot, drove like a maniac. I had to get there.” He tried to take a breath but it sounded like he couldn’t get enough air. “That was the last time I heard his voice,” Paul sobbed. It took a second for him to continue. “I was too late. Pete’s

body, several others—oh, God.” Paul threw his hands over his face and cried inconsolably. “I didn’t understand what happened. I didn’t understand, but Pete —I killed my own brother!” “I know it hurts. He was your brother, but Paul, it wasn’t your fault. You had no control over his choices—” Rhees tried to pry his hands from his face but he resisted. Paul couldn’t form any more words. His whole body shook as he wailed. When he found his voice again, it sounded unsteady. “I held his body. I begged God to bring him back. I needed to do it over—do it better.” “But you couldn’t. I understand.

There’re some things we can’t do over.” She used her own understanding of regret, trying to reach him. “But it was Pete’s mistake, not yours.” “No. It should never have come to that. Pete died because of me.” Paul stopped crying and held perfectly still. “I held Pete in my arms. I picked up the pistol by his hand, his Glock. I put it to my temple—” “No!” Rhees cried, throwing her hand over her mouth. “The gun jammed,” he said, stoically, his breath quavered as he drew it in and let it out. “I sat there, staring at that damned pistol, wondering how I’d fucked up yet one more thing. How do

you bring yourself to pull the trigger like that and fuck it up?” “Paul, no!” Tears flowed down her face. She raised herself up and shook him by the shoulders. “No! Don’t ever —” “Don’t worry,” he said. “My triggerhappy days are over.” “Promise?” she asked in a whisper because she couldn’t find her voice. “Yeah, I promise.” Rhees rested her head on his chest. She didn’t believe for a second Pete’s death had been Paul’s fault. His refusal to listen to her and see the incident in a different light went onto a growing list of him misinterpreting incidents. The

man had major perception problems when it came to seeing himself. She felt his chest vibrate again with a shaky intake of breath—he wasn’t finished. She rolled, pulling his head to her chest in a comforting gesture and waited for him to tell her more. He wrapped his arms around her, grasping her tightly, burrowing his head against her, over her shirt, just above her breasts. “I used up every bit of honor I had in me with that one trigger pull.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Once again, his take on what happened made her cringe and she vowed she’d spend the rest of her life trying to make him

take off that particular pair of glasses that made him always see himself in such a terrible light, but for now, she stroked his hair and caressed him like a baby in her arms. “I spent the next few years looking for a more passive way to do the trick, but that didn’t work out either. I finally had to accept it. I was meant to live with my mistake—the first stage of hell, to have to live with what you’ve done.” Rhees understood that, too well. “I heard sirens—I panicked.” He glanced up at her and waited to see if she’d understand. “I couldn’t think! Me —super-brain—I couldn’t think. I needed to protect him—if I couldn’t

bring him back.” Paul started to cry again. “It was ingrained—my parents had ingrained it into me. I needed to protect my brother—his reputation.” Rhees could barely understand what he said as he broke down again. “My brother was gone. It hurt—it hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I jumped back into my car, drove around. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have the answer. I just drove. And then I panicked again—I’d destroyed evidence—the police. Pete’s people . . . they knew about me. I needed to get away. I pulled over, changed my blood-soaked clothes and headed back to the airport. I had my passport, my bag.

I hopped on the first flight out of Miami. I never went back.” He cried convulsively within her embrace and she cried with him. She held him, stroking his hair, his shoulders and back. He held her so tight she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t say a word.

Chapter 10

R

hees held Paul in her arms and let him cry. He clutched at her, desperately trying to get closer and closer. The sobs finally diminished, but still, he trembled.

Pulling one of her hands to his lips, he kissed each one of her fingers once before he held them to his cheek. The other side of his face still rested against her chest but he started nuzzling his cheek against the exposed skin of the Vline on her shirt. The skin to skin contact seemed to spur him to seek more. Thinking only of soothing him, she grabbed for the neckline of her shirt and pulled it down farther, helping him find more skin. She realized what she’d done when his needy blue eyes met hers and the next thing she knew, her shirt was off, he’d tossed it to the end of the bed and buried his face between her breasts, wiping what was left of his tears on the

lace on her bra. She took a deep breath and slowly lowered her head back on the bed. She concentrated on the patterns in the ceiling as Paul pulled the cup of her bra down, exposing one of her breasts. She had to close her eyes when, with a drawn-out exhale, his mouth closed around it. She concentrated so hard on not pushing him away, stopping him—she didn’t notice he’d untied the drawstring on her pants until his hand roamed freely over her lower body. He clutched at her, tugged on her, stroked her, tracing the outline of her panties. She swallowed hard and took

another deep breath, held it, let it out, and took another, repeating the pattern, afraid he’d feel how shaky her breathing had become, afraid he’d stop if he realized how scared she was—on the verge of panic. She cursed herself. She loved him. She wouldn’t hesitate to give her life for him, so why was it so hard to give him her body? She didn’t really want him to stop, even if she needed him to. He didn’t stop. Paul removed her bra and started on her other breast. Still, she lay motionless. Her eyelids fluttered open so she could stare at the ceiling, and then she squeezed them tight again. Small, frightened whimpers escaped now and

then, but he didn’t seem to notice as he slipped his hand into her panties and worked its way between her legs where he began playing with her, intimately. They both moaned, but for differing reasons. He’d pushed her remaining clothing down and off before giving her nipple one last kiss. He worked his mouth up her throat; tenderly kissing her while his body inched over her. His lips found hers, which he attacked fervently at the same time his hand resumed its position between her legs, but He had found his way there too, nothing between them but Paul’s boxers and his hand. “Ahh . . .” He exhaled into her mouth

as he pressed himself against her, working his fingers, coaxing . . . He moaned again, kissing her, fusing himself to her in every way except one, the last . .. Tears ran down the sides of her face as she tried to keep it together. Rhees shuddered as a quiet whimper slipped from the back of her throat. “I love you,” she whispered, barely audible, more to remind herself than him. Paul froze. He held perfectly still except for his labored breathing. “What’s wrong?” she choked out after a long pause, too long. He didn’t answer. She couldn’t see his face. She needed to see his face, his eyes. “I did it

wrong,” she breathed. He finally raised himself off of her, holding himself above her like the upward movement of a pushup. He stared down at her and she regretted wanting to see his eyes. She’d give anything not to see them now. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me to stop?” Her mouth opened and closed, having no defense. “I didn’t want you to.” “Bullshit!” he growled. “Why didn’t you stop me?” “I didn’t want you to stop!” she yelled back. He cursed and jumped up and off the

bed and went to the sliding glass door. He stood and looked out the window, not really seeing anything, just staring out. He hissed and had to rearrange himself and then he cussed again under his breath. He shook his head and blinked a few times before scrunching up his face. His mouth ran through their moves, more pronounced than normal. “Were you just going to lie there and let me rape you?” She coughed—his word choice infuriated her. “We’re married!” His gaze shot back to her. “What the hell difference does that make? Are you crazy?” He looked out the window again.

“Probably,” she snapped. “Haven’t you been paying attention?” He sighed, frustrated, and then again in resignation. “You’re not crazy. It’s my fault. I don’t know what I was thinking. You couldn’t possibly be ready so soon. I’m sorry.” He put his hands on his hips, stared at the ground, and growled, showing palpable contempt. Rhees couldn’t tell if the contempt was for himself or for her. “I want to be ready.” She sniffed and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I’m tired of letting this rule my life—our lives. I love you. You needed me, and I —I just wanted to be there for you.”

“God, Rhees. You’re always doing that, always putting everyone first—me. You’re always putting me before yourself. I keep trying to tell you I’m not worth it, what a fucking prick I am, but you don’t listen.” He lied. He actually loved that about her. It gave him an inkling of hope he might not completely be a lost cause. “Stop it,” she begged. “I don’t deserve you. After everything you’ve been through, I almost . . . Gah!” He exhaled long and loud and looked out the window again. The look on her face broke his heart because he knew he’d just put a crack in hers. He

hated himself all the more. He needed to change the subject. He needed a change of scenery. He was going crazy, being confined in that room for so long was getting to him. He sighed heavily again. “What do you say we get out of this room? We’ve been cooped up way too long.” “I can’t,” she yelped, horror stricken. “I’m not ready to go out.” “Huh.” He snorted a humorless laugh. “You’re too traumatized to leave the fucking room, but you’d be just fine letting your fucking husband fuck your scared-ass brains out. That’s beautiful, absolutely, fucking beautiful.” She stood in a huff and scooped her

clothes off the bed. He turned away from her naked body until she headed toward the bathroom in what seemed like a hurry. “Where’re you going?” he snarled after her. He knew as soon as he asked. He’d made her feel the need to get away, to run, and he felt bad for being such an ass, again. As if any of it was her fault. “Rhees? I’m sorry. Are you okay?” “I’m just fu . . . I’m fine.” She’d stopped herself from swearing and it made him feel even worse. He’d asked her not to swear at him or because of him. She’d kept her promise, almost to a fault. “These scrubs are so dirty, they’re

starting to crawl. Maybe another shower will help.” She’d never admit she just needed to get away from him—that might hurt his feelings. Paul grinned at what a good excuse she’d come up with to protect him. “We can send them out,” he called after her. “The hotel has a laundry service.” “How long will that take? I have nothing else to wear,” she called back. “They can be done tomorrow. In the meantime, you can wear one of the hotel robes. They’re hanging in the closet.” oOo As soon as Paul heard Rhees turn the

shower off, he gave her a minute to dry off. He knocked on the wall to the bathroom that had no door. He held a robe just beyond the door opening for her to see. She eventually took it from his hands and he gave her a second to put it on. “Put your clothes in here with mine.” He walked into the bathroom holding a plastic bag with the name of the hotel and the word ‘Laundry’ printed on the side. He’d changed his clothes and put his dirty things in the bag too. “I called the front desk. They’ll send someone up for this.” He held the bag up and made a production of pulling the drawstring on the bag tight after she’d

put her scrubs and underclothes inside. He’d transformed into Taking-Care-ofEverything-Paul, one of his defense mechanisms, because he didn’t know how to fix the uncomfortable tension between them. Rhees never did look him in the eye. She pulled the robe closed a little more, acting self-conscious in front of him. Damn it, he thought, wondering why it had to be so complicated to love someone so much. He asked himself why he didn’t stick to his guns about never caring about anyone again . . . as if— with Rhees, it’d never been a choice. oOo

It took another hour after the blow up for the mood to really improve, instead of just pretending it had, but once it did, Paul and Rhees began to have a good time. Paul asked the hotel to bring up a deck of cards and a package of every type of snack food the little convenience store on the property carried. With a lot of coaxing, Rhees finally agreed to let him teach her a couple of easy games. They turned the television to a music channel, nothing but an odd version of cool jazz, but it filled the room with something better than the previous tension. Paul placed the bedspread on the floor so they could sit on a clean, but

firm, surface while they played at least a hundred rounds of Speed, eating potato chips and red licorice. Rhees won just enough rounds to keep her playing. She actually won a few on her own, too. She squealed in an excited panic when she and Paul got to the end of their cards at the same time, and her last card landed under his, making her the winner, barely. She jumped up and did a little victory dance. His right eye winked a couple of times as he smiled at her, relieved to see her so happy again, so normal. “In the Mood” came on over the TV, played by some unknown band, and Rhees reached for him. “I love the better

version of this song.” She giggled. “Dance with me?” He stood and they ran through a calm version of the swing but she didn’t realize how her robe gaped open as he swung her around, revealing her bare breasts to him. Rather than embarrass her, he pulled her into his arms, her back to his front and they swayed. She leaned her head back against his neck, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the innocent, nonthreatening affection. When the song ended, they continued to sway. “This has been a very nice afternoon. Thank you.” She turned in his arms and looked up at him with a smile.

“I didn’t do anything.” He gave her a soft peck on the nose. “I like having you all to myself like this. I think we’ve hit on the best way to spend a honeymoon.” She realized her mistake as soon as she said it. Her gaze dropped to the floor, thinking about what she was sure he thought also—that this was the worst honeymoon in the history of mankind. “You have to be going stircrazy being cooped up with me all this time. I finally understand why it’s so hard on you to be confined.” He pulled her into him and she expected a lame, affectionate gesture— one required by a man trying to be a good husband when trying to ignore his

wife’s stupid mouth. He stuck his tongue in her ear instead, making her shriek. She tried to get away but he held her, waggling his tongue and making crazy eyes, trying to lick her again. “No crazy stirring going on here.” She laughed and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. “Well, tomorrow.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “When my clothes get back, let’s give going out a try.” “No need to push it. We planned to be away for three weeks. We won’t be missed for a few more days. If you need more time after that, I’ll work it out. Claire and Dobbs have the name of our

hotel if they need me—us. They understand. They want nothing more than for you to get better. In fact, I’d bet they’re pretty happy about having the shop all to themselves.” “Okay, that’s great, but . . . I’m having doubts it’s ever going to come on its own. I think I do need to push myself a little. You know I need to force myself to face my worst fears, head on. Maybe we could get lunch, see how it goes.” He pulled back so he could read her. “I think that is a very good idea . . . but there’s no need to rush this. We don’t need to rush anything, understand?” She nodded, but she could see how encouraged he felt at her willingness to

give getting out of the room a try, confirming that despite all his talk about waiting, there was still another fear she’d need to face, head on. oOo They ordered room service for dinner and it thrilled Paul to see Rhees actually get excited when it arrived. Paul knew he was less likely to be grouchy on a full stomach, but she hadn’t eaten much since the hijacking. He’d been so worried about her he couldn’t bring himself to eat either. That night, she ate as much as he’d seen her eat since they’d been in the room, making his own appetite return with a vengeance.

He’d ordered wine with dinner, but when he reached for the bottle to refill his glass, only a few drops trickled out. He’d only had one glass. He tilted his head to the side and watched Rhees, but she seemed oblivious to his new concern as she picked away at her food. “Is there something you’d like to talk about?” he asked, wiggling the bottle, upside down, to make sure she noticed how empty it happened to be. She made a sheepish face. “That is very good wine.” “Was.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table that room service had set up for them between the chaise and the bed. He clasped his hands

and propped his lips against his steepled index fingers, watching her suspiciously. “Oh. I didn’t mean to hog it all. We should order more.” One corner of his mouth hitched up in anticipation of her pending reaction. “Yes, it is good wine. At two hundred dollars a bottle, I would hope so.” As he’d predicted, any humor that might have been on her face, no longer was. “I just guzzled down two hundred dollars?” “It’s okay. If you like it, I’ll order more.” He leaned forward even more. “But why are you trying to get drunk?” She looked down with a pouty

frown, caught. “It’s been a long time since either of us has been drunk. It sounded like a good idea.” She added an afterthought. “Even you cannot deny the advantages of being drunk.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “If you’re thinking we should get drunk so you can stand to have sex with me, then it’s nawt a good idea. We need to take our time. There’s no rush.” “Really?” Her tone sounded incredulous. “Because you seemed pretty rushy earlier today.” His face reflected his remorse. “There’s a perfectly good explanation for that, not an excusable one, but

plausible.” “Plausible? That sounds like you hope that I’ll believe it, even though you don’t.” Paul shrugged. “Maybe.” She laughed, but barely. “Come on. I’d just confessed my biggest secret.” His voice faded. “I’ve never told anyone before—not sober, anyway. I felt close to you . . . and vulnerable. And there you were, holding me, comforting me. I liked it. I’ve missed you, so much, and . . . I wanted more.” He closed his eyes, accepting the truth of it. “Reliving the past,” he said. “The old Paul took what he wanted and didn’t

care about anything, or anyone else. I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened, and it won’t happen again—until you’re ready. This needs to be about you, and getting you better, not about me and my selfish problems.” He glanced down, ashamed. “It’s not about you or me anymore. It’s about us,” Rhees said, bursting into tears, no warning. “What did I say?” He raced around the table and knelt at her side. “Rhees. Please! Don’t cry.” “It took twenty years last time,” she blubbered. She knew how ugly she looked when she tried to talk while

crying so hard. She looked down, trying to hide her face from him but he wouldn’t have it. He held her face between his hands, forcing her to face him, but she did her best to avert her eyes. “I’ll wait fifty, if that’s what it takes.” The concern on his face made her feel bad, which only fueled her sudden sob-fest. He leaned in close, watching her for a second before a mischievous grin played on his mouth. “But you’re wrong. It only took six months last time.” “No,” she wailed. “I was only five, it took twenty years.” She thought about Keene. He’d recommended they annul the marriage because they hadn’t

consummated it yet. “I don’t want to wait fifty years to finally know we’re really married.” “Look at me,” Paul said. Rhees reluctantly complied. “For twenty years you knew you didn’t want anyone else.” He paused for effect. “But it only took six months for you to realize you couldn’t live without this.” He waved his hands over his body with one raised eyebrow and a cocky grin. Laughter sputtered out between the few sobs she still had left and she covered her mouth with her hand. She looked so dang cute. “That does make sense, actually.”

“Of course it does. This face, this body—just look at all my V’s.” His hands waved around himself, from his shoulders to his waist, and then lifted his shirt and pushed the waistband of his pants down a bit to point out his hip muscles. “I need new jeans. These hotel dress pants suck, and I haven’t had a lot of exercise in a while. I’m not in my best, tip-top, stud-muffin shape right now, but I have V’s everywhere, I swear. You’ll be drooling over me in no time.” “I do nawt drool.” She teasingly repeated his own words from that morning before she laughed again. “Sometimes being an arrogant ass comes in handy.” He smiled warmly.

She playfully slapped his shoulder. He winced—not in a teasing manner, and grabbed the shoulder she’d just slapped. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot you were shot.” She pushed his hand out of the way and tried to slide the sleeve up, but his golf shirt fit snuggly around his muscular arm. She grew frustrated, needing to see it for herself so she grabbed the hem of his shirt. He didn’t want her to see it and tried to stop her, but she met his eyes with a hard warning in her own. He gave in, reluctantly, and lifted his shirt off. He’d thrown the sling away by the end of the first day. It’d become an inconvenience when he found himself

trying to fight his way to Rhees at the police station and again at the hospital. The gash had sealed so he’d removed the bandages, but the scar still looked red and sore. “I’m the worst wife in the world. This morning . . . I can’t believe I didn’t notice it—why haven’t you said anything?” she scolded. “Real men don’t let a little ole bullet hole slow ‘em down.” Paul grinned, hoping to put her mind at rest. Rhees scowled at his attempt to play it off. “To be honest, I’ve been too worried about you to even notice it.” Her face twisted with a little skepticism and a lot of remorse. She

slipped her arms around his waist and groaned pitifully into his chest. “Yeah, you completely forget how a searing hot bullet tore through your flesh . . . because of me. You saved my life again.” “Don’t forget, you saved mine. I’ve been fanboying all over my very own little Annie Oakley.” Rhees placed her lips on the wound, so softly and with so much tenderness, his breath caught, bringing him back to the present. She looked up at him through her lashes and then kissed it again. “It’s just a scratch,” Paul assured, enjoying her sudden bedside manner, a little too much. “The paramedics

cleaned it out and bandaged it up—I didn’t even need stitches.” He lied. They’d insisted he needed stitches, but he’d refused, thinking only of getting back to Rhees, his beautiful bride, and on to their honeymoon suite before his testicles exploded. That was just before all hell broke loose at the police station. “See? It’s already better. A few more days and it’ll be good as new.” “That’s why you just jumped out of your skin when I touched it.” She accentuated a pout, showing her disappointment with him. “It makes me very unhappy you’d ignore your own wounds because of mine.” She slipped her hands up and around

his neck and didn’t break eye contact until she nuzzled her nose against his neck. It felt good. He absentmindedly lifted his chin, encouraging her to do it again. He shouldn’t have done that. She lifted up on her toes to skim her lips over his Adam’s apple. The movement made the front of her robe fall open and they met, hard muscle to soft skin . . . and breasts, but it didn’t stop her from peppering his neck and chin with kisses. “Let’s dance,” he said, closing her robe again, uncomfortable with the level of intimacy she’d sparked in him. He hadn’t had a swim since before the wedding. The music wasn’t very good, but he thought a little slow dancing

would give them both some needed touching time—safe touching. It worked. His body calmed to a manageable level. oOo “Paul, I don’t want to wait fifty years. I don’t want to wait six months,” she said after they’d slow danced a while. “Aw jeez, can we not talk about this again—not tonight?” “Okay, when?” “I don’t know. Next year?” He didn’t want to sound so annoyed but his nerves had been through the wringer. He felt bad when he saw her expression fall. “Three days?” No better. “Tomorrow?

I’m sorry, Rhees. I suck at this stuff. You know that. I wish I knew exactly what you need me to say. I’m tired, frustrated . . . and the truth is, I’m scared.” “You’re scared?” she sobbed. “You’re the one who wants to annul our marriage, and you’re scared? I heard you and Keene talking about it. I can’t bear the thought—the idea that some judge somewhere can just erase our marriage, as if it never really happened —that you’d want to do that.” Paul stood, too stunned to speak. He watched, helpless and staggered as she melted away and sat on the end of the chaise, covered her face with her hands, and cried again.

“No one’s annulling anything,” he finally whispered, kneeling in front of her. He tried to pull her hands from her face but she resisted. “Rhees? Yes, Keene mentioned he thought it might be a good idea. But I told him to go to hell!” She let out a relieved sob. “But what if I’m never ready? What if we never get to be together because I’m too screwed up? That’s not fair to you. I know you wanted to this morning. You’re not as patient as you say. You’re not a patient man. How much longer can you wait for me? And don’t tell me you’ll wait fifty years because I know that’s not true.” Paul pinched the bridge of his nose

while he seemed to be counting to ten or some other exercise aimed at tempering his reflex response. “What do you expect me to do?” She hesitated before admitting her idea and had to look down as she suggested it. “Let’s order up some alcohol—get me drunk. Let’s just get it over with. I really believe once it’s over —the first time—I’ll be better. I’ll be able to wrap my head around it easier, once I know what to expect. It’s just the fear, and you know the only way I get over my fears is to force myself to push through them.” “No! Jesus!” Paul jerked back to his feet and stomped to the sliding glass

door, his practiced response. He stood, looking out—he always looked out the window when he felt stressed. It was dark and he stared out at the lights of the city. “But you like it forceful,” she said quietly, tentatively. His head snapped around and he bore his, I-can’t-believe-you-just-saidthat, eyes into her before he shook his head at the incredulity of her proposal. “But you do.” “No!” he barked. “I’m not that man anymore. I’m not so angry at the world anymore.” He paused with a long sigh because he was angry right then. He

looked like a liar. “Mostly. So no, I’m not being that way with you, ever.” She still didn’t respond but her silence screamed volumes. “Rhees, it doesn’t have to be that way.” He moved back to stand in front of her on the chaise. “It can be better than, ‘getting it over with’. Remember what I said on the bus, before all this happened? I told you it would be my first time too? I want to make love to you. That’s worth waiting for.” “Okay, make love to me. You won’t have to use force. I promise I won’t fight you. You can be tender and sweet. Show me there’s nothing to be afraid of. I just

have to get it over—” She paused abruptly, catching herself. “I know I’ll be better once I see. I’m positive. Being with you, this . . . black hole—this thing that has always overshadowed my whole life, this thing that is sucking all the life out of us—it’s the only reference I have. I’m ready to start making new references, with you.” “Unbelievable.” He turned to stare out the glass door again with his hands on his hips. “We’ve been here before.” “What?” “On the deck, the last time you begged me to, get it over with. That didn’t work out then any better than this morning, and it wouldn’t now either,

even if I actually felt up for what you’re asking, for all your talk, you’re not ready.” “You don’t know that.” She stood up and nearly stomped her foot like a little girl throwing a tantrum. “You can’t possibly know that. Ask me how badly I want this—on a scale of one to ten. Ask me!” “That’s not funny.” He smiled, almost laughed, contradicting himself. He couldn’t help it. She was so cute. She amused him without trying, but too soon, the gravity of the conversation weighed on his shoulders again and he blew out a tired sigh. “Yes, Rhees, I do know. This

morning, I came so close. You think this is easy for me, don’t you? Like I have some switch I can turn on and off on a whim.” He paused out of frustration. They shouldn’t need to be having this conversation, again. “Our sleeping in the same room, the same bed all this time, practically living together—it hasn’t been easy for me, at all. “The only reason I’ve been able to do it is because I see how you are. You’re so good, and I’m so . . . not.” “Stop saying that!” she yelled. “I’m not good. You know that now. And you’re not—” “Yes, you are.” He cut her off. “My opinion of you hasn’t changed one bit,

and yes, I needed to change, and you helped me do it. I don’t hate myself anymore . . . sometimes. That’s huge for me. “But even if I’d managed sainthood, it would never be easy to keep my hands off you. So stop pushing this. Stop pushing me.” They both took a short intermission, Paul stared out the window, Rhees stared at the floor. “Paul spoke first, his voice soft. “You’ve always treated me so . . . You make me feel like you actually love me just the way I am, no expectations I’m supposed to live up to first.” “I do.”

“I know,” he said, gratefully. “I see you look at me, the way your eyes light up—like you think I’m perfect—and not because I’m Laird & Caroline Weaver’s son, or because I have money, or because you feel the need to sleep with me because somehow your self-esteem is linked to how good-looking the man you can get into your bed happens to be. You’ve changed me. I want to be changed—for you.” “You’re right. I don’t care about any of that. I love you, but that doesn’t help with the problem at hand. I want our marriage to be real. We need to—” “It is real! Gaw!” He rattled his head in frustration. “You’re not ready!

This morning proved it. I realized you weren’t ready and still, it was next to impossible to stop. There is a point of no return, Rhees. On the deck, I had no intention of deflowering you that night, but . . . I almost did. Do you hear me? This morning I stopped, somehow, but if you keep pushing this, I may wind up giving what you say you want but aren’t ready for. Do you understand how much worse that could be? It could be irreparable. I can’t live with those consequences, so can we drop it?” “If it was so hard, why did you stop?” Paul’s body language stuttered. He didn’t want to answer. The argument

wore on his patience and he didn’t know how to explain it to her without making her feel stupid. She wasn’t stupid, just so ignorant on the subject. Her naiveté ordinarily endeared her to him all the more, but right now . . . he wished he could hit the pause button and talk to Claire. “I stopped because you had tears streaming down your face,” he mumbled. “Why did you automatically assume they were bad tears and not good tears? Maybe I was overcome with love and emotion.” “Okay. That might have been possible,” he huffed out sarcastically. “But if your eyes were able to get that

wet from the sheer ecstasy of the experience, you should have been wet down there, too.” Rhees’ expression went blank. She didn’t understand and he sighed, feeling bad for being so abrasive with her. “If you were ready, you’d be wet. It needs to be wet down there for all this to work. It would be unpleasant, even painful, for both of us.” “I did do it wrong then.” She turned away from him. “Aw, for crying out loud,” he groaned with exasperation. So much for patience and understanding. “Stawp it. It doesn’t mean you did anything wrong, or that there’s anything wrong with you. It

could be me. Maybe I rushed it, didn’t give you enough time. It was my fault, or more likely, it has more to do with it being too soon after—” “Have you ever had this problem before?” He glanced at the floor and shifted his weight nervously, giving away the answer. “You haven’t. And don’t forget. Your groupies discuss everything, loud and openly. None of the other girls have ever complained. I’m sure I’d have heard about it if you tended to rush the experience.” It hurt she’d bring that up again after all the time that had passed—when he’d

been abstaining because of her—for her. “You’ve obviously forgotten. I go for experienced girls,” he jabbed back. “They’re less effort, always ready to go.” “So I’m not worth the effort?” “Oh my God.” He paced away from her. It was harder than it should be to keep from letting her insecurities push his buttons. He hated that she had to live with such a life-altering event, and he felt inadequate to deal with it at the moment, but it felt like she didn’t give him any credit for anything he’d done. It was almost March. He’d been good for nearly a year. It had become such a habit to hate himself, he’d started to doubt he

deserved any credit, after all. “That’s not what I meant.” He closed his eyes and tried to calm down. “You just . . . you’re not relaxed enough—and understandably so. That’s how I know you’re not ready. That’s why I say it’s too soon, and that’s why I say we need to wait a little longer.” Paul’s ability to keep his head waned as he couldn’t figure out how to fix the tension between them. He didn’t want to keep talking about it, rehashing it. His thoughts drifted back to how he wanted to hunt down the kid—the man who did this to her and that reminded him of the things Keene had said when he’d confessed his desire to kill the

pervert. Keene said that was him wanting to fix her, but ridding the earth of the criminal wouldn’t rid her mind of the crime. Paul reached up and massaged the back of his neck. “They make products for this,” he said evenly, grasping for a compromise. “There’re things we—I could do to help, and someday, we’ll explore those options if we need to, but right now, it’s kind of the only way I have of knowing that you’re trying too hard, pushing yourself too fast, for my sake— unnecessarily.” He willed her to understand so they could move on. “Baby, there’s no hurry. We have the rest of our lives.”

“Maybe I’m broken. Maybe I can’t get wet. Maybe I don’t work right—” “You’re not broken.” He cut her off. “You were wet on the bus—” Wrong thing to bring up. “—On Duna, okay? The day we decided to get married. Knowing you really did want me—that’s what scared the shit out of me, and the reason I stopped before I broke my promise. You work fine.” He said the next words quietly, with a pleading quality in his tone. “Today is just not the day. Can we just drop this and go to bed?” “I wish you wouldn’t have stopped. If I was ready, you shouldn’t have stopped.” She looked like she was

working herself up, and again, he couldn’t figure out how to stop it. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be doing it with me, right now, instead of making excuses why you can’t, or won’t—actually, you’d be doing it with someone else. You just didn’t want me. Not then, and especially not now. You don’t want me because I’m dirty. You may have suspected my ugly secret, but you stopped wanting me the minute I blabbed the truth.” “Whoa! Where’s this coming from? You’re irrational!” “I wish you would have just gotten it over with when you had the chance, for both of our sakes. I wish Costa Rica

would have been more, when I was too drunk to care, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, even when you were plastered out of your mind. Who would have thought, you of all people would be so picky? You’ve fucked every other vagina on the planet, but you won’t touch mine. I thought you were the type of man who—” She stopped mid-sentence and threw her hand over her mouth. “I was supposed to be the type of man who what?” Again, she’d discounted the nine long, hard months of protecting her. No credit whatsoever. He glared. “Spit it out Da-nar-y-a!” “Nothing.” “Let me guess.” He ran a hand

through his hair and exhaled furiously. He clenched his teeth, and his mouth twitched a few times. “You thought I was the type of man who’d just hop on, not give a fucking shit about you—who’d just get it over with?” “I didn’t mean it.” “Like hell you didn’t!” “I just wish we would have. It would be over, and you wouldn’t have to be here now, babysitting me. I wouldn’t be screwing up your life, making you feel like you have to take care of me because you feel sorry for me. You wouldn’t have felt pressured to marry me because you have to keep your promises. You wouldn’t have married

me and we wouldn’t have been on that bus—I wouldn’t have confessed to the world—” Tears streamed down her face and she covered her mouth again, a sign she knew she’d said too much, a sign she’d actually been honest for a change, he thought. She hadn’t said anything he hadn’t already thought about on his own. He hated himself, not Rhees, but lashing out at himself became the same as lashing out at everyone and everything in the vicinity—collateral damage. “You’re right, if I hadn’t done everything in my power to keep you on the island with me, none of it would

have happened. You wouldn’t have to force yourself to let me touch you. You wouldn’t have to try not to scream—or vomit because I want to make love to you. You could have been back in Utah right now, found yourself one of those nice, gay Mormon boys who’d never touch you. You could be blissfully happy right now in a safe, sexless marriage for the rest of your life.” Her mouth gaped open in shock at his words but then she stood a little straighter, her expression hardened. “You mean like ours?” she hissed. They stood, staring at each other for a few seconds. Paul’s eyes were harder, colder than she remembered ever seeing

them before. She finally bolted. She ran into the mini bar-entry room and reached for the doorknob before realizing she couldn’t leave. She needed to get away, but she had no clothes and wouldn’t get far wearing only a hotel robe. “Damn it!” she growled and spewed a string of swear words together which grew longer and increasingly shocking. Paul knew she wanted to run and he knew her cursing stemmed from wanting to get away, from him. She’d promised not to swear or run, but he understood where the need was coming from—he felt the same way at the moment. “What’s wrong, Danarya? No place

to run?” he sneered. “You can’t stand to be in the same room with me? Here, let me help.” He shot to the desk and scooped up his shirt and room key before he stomped out the door, letting it slam behind him.

Chapter 11 wo forty-three in the morning, Rhees paced back and forth at the foot of the bed, frantically. She broke her path only to step out on the balcony and look over

the rail every few minutes. She kept hoping to see Paul return to the hotel on the street below. It was too dark out to see much from the high floor and she wasn’t sure he’d even left. She was beside herself with worry and fear he wouldn’t come back at all. Rhees wanted more than anything to go look for him, but having no clothes except her robe, she was stuck in the room. Anxiety attacks were still a problem, and she wasn’t sure she could leave the room even if clothing wasn’t a problem. She’d cried when he’d first walked out, but now she’d become more concerned for him than upset about their

T

fight. She hated herself for acting so crazy. Paul hadn’t deserved to be treated that way and she wished she could take it back. She jumped at the knock on the door and threw it open faster than should have been possible. “Paul?” She didn’t expect to see the two hotel security men holding Paul up. “Mrs. Weaver?” they asked. “Yes,” she answered warily. “Hey, Baby,” Paul said in a long, drawn out drunken slur. He turned to the guy on his left. “See? Didn’t I tell you, my ba-ride is the most beautiful girl in the world, right?” The guy smiled politely and started explaining to Rhees

in very good English. “We found your husband downstairs. He caused quite a disturbance, but being one of our VIP guests, we brought him back to his room instead of calling the police.” “Umm . . . thank you. We appreciate that. Can you put him on the bed for me, please?” “Is there anything else we can do for you, Señora?” the same man asked when they’d wrangled an uncooperative Paul to sit on the edge of the bed. Rhees heard the other man speak in Spanish to his partner, repeating what she thought sounded like a sequence of cuss words by his tone.

“No, thank you. Thank you for bringing him back. I’ve been worried about him.” “Here, Señora. This is for you.” The English-speaking man handed a paper shopping bag over to Rhees. Her confusion must have shown, making him feel the need to explain. “We found Mr. Weaver pounding on the door of one of the shops in the lobby, yelling for someone to open the store. It closed hours ago. We told him to try again in the morning and encouraged him to go sleep it off before we called the police, but he insisted he needed to buy that.” The security guard pointed to the bag.

“Once the night manager realized who we were dealing with, he called the shop owner and got him out of bed. He sent one of his employees to the hotel to open the shop and sell your husband the dress. She had to remove it from the mannequin in the window. Mr. Weaver said something about a long lost twin and how his wife had to have it.” Rhees blushed. “I’m sorry if he was a problem. This really isn’t like him. He’s been under a lot of stress lately. I’m sorry.” She hated knowing what these men must think of the man she loved. “He’s really a wonderful person.” “It’s no problem, ma’am.” The

English-speaking man lowered his voice and translated what she’d just said to the other man. She noticed the look they exchanged and knew they didn’t believe her. “It’s late enough. I don’t think any of the other guests noticed, and the hotel is happy to forget this. Your husband is an important guest here.” “Thank you, again. I keep saying that, but I’m so relieved to know he’s safe. I’ve been so worried.” She fidgeted for a second. “Thanks for bringing him back here instead of calling the police.” She glanced around the room as if looking for something. “I’m supposed to tip you or something. I don’t have any

money. The hijac . . .” She turned to Paul, contemplating rifling through his pockets, wondering how he’d paid for all the drinks he’d obviously consumed. All their money and credit cards had been taken from them. “No, Señora. There’s no need. That wouldn’t really be appropriate in this case.” “Oh. I’m sorry. I haven’t stayed in a lot of hotels. I don’t know how these things work.” “Good night, Señora.” They gave Paul one last look. He’d fallen back on the mattress and seemed to be asleep. “Call the front desk if you have any trouble. We’re on duty until five thirty.

He’s quite a handful in this condition. You might need a little help.” “Thank you, but we’ll be fine.” The security guards walked out the door and Rhees turned back to look at her husband. For the first time since he’d stormed out, she breathed easier. She looked inside the bag. Her heart squeezed a bit as she pulled out a brown spandex dress, very similar to the one the Rohypnol had ruined. She choked up. Even after their fight, the mean things she’d said, even in his drunken state, Paul had once again made the most thoughtful gesture. “And you say you’re not romantic,” she said, staring at her beautiful man.

He wore his black dress shoes and a black belt, the ones he’d worn at their wedding. The dark grey dress slacks and a dark blue golf shirt with the hotel’s logo on the chest looked great on him but seemed a little out of character. They’d been an emergency purchase from the on-site store so he could toss his bloodstained wedding clothes. She missed the flip flops and board shorts he usually wore, or the jeans and un-tucked button-up shirts he always put on in the evenings because, ‘he didn’t like to get cold’. The man didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body. It was no wonder he chilled easily . . . but they lived in a tropical paradise. It made her

smile. That was only one of his quirks. She loved all of his quirks—she loved him. She missed the way they used to be. They’d been trapped in this hotel room for almost two weeks. She’d always known he hated being cooped up, but after his story, she knew Paul had to be going crazy, but he’d done it for her, watching out for her, taking care of her. She missed home and wished the thought of leaving the room didn’t make her heart race so fast it made her ill. She needed to push herself through that fear. She needed to do it for Paul. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the shakes gripping her body as

she thought of another, more important fear she’d need to push through if she cared for him. She did care for him more than anything. She would have to find a way. oOo Rhees crouched down to untie the laces on Paul’s shoes and took them off for him before standing and trying to decide just how much of his clothing she should remove. His wardrobe wasn’t quite as limited as hers. He had two similar outfits he’d purchased at the hotel, but she decided she’d better strip him so he wouldn’t have to send the clothes he wore out to the laundry again.

She undid his belt, unzipped his pants and tugged them down, careful not to pull his boxers off too. Not an easy task, as he didn’t help in any way. She’d only seen him in boxer briefs and decided she liked them better than the old-fashioned boxers he wore, another hotel store purchase. She folded the pants and set them on the desk, but had to stop to catch her breath after the workout of maneuvering his dead weight. She noticed his eyes open, watching her with a lively grin on his face. “Have you been awake all this time? You could have helped, you know.” “Errrawow.” He growled like a wild predator—a wild predator that’d

had too much to drink. “And miss the shhow? It’s nawt every day a man gets stripped naked by a beea-u-tiful woman.” She didn’t want to smile, but she couldn’t help it. “Come on. Up you go.” She wiggled her fingers, gesturing for him to sit up. She reached for his hands and pulled to help when she noticed how unstable he was as he tried. “Let’s get your shirt off.” “Now you’re taalk-ing.” He pulled her into him and tried to kiss her, but lost his balance and almost fell off the bed. She steadied him as best as she could, a little shaken by his attempted advance. She hadn’t expected it.

“Off.” She grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head, but in her haste to keep herself calm, she’d forgotten to undo the buttons on his shirt and it hung up on his ears. “Ooo . . . You’re blindfolding me?” He sounded excited, like a kid on Christmas morning. “In your dreams. I can’t even manage to give you my virginity straight up, let alone get all kinky and perverted with you.” She tried to unfasten the shirt, which was now inside out and stretched to the fabric’s limits making the buttons hard to get to. She decided on a different tactic and began gently manipulating the collar around and over his ears, one at a

time. She managed to free his right side but when she turned her attention to the other she stopped and stared at his neck, just below his left earlobe. “Hel-l-lp,” he pretended to panic since she’d stopped trying to free him from his tangled shirt. “Do it yourself.” She stepped back and folded her arms, unable to control her breathing. Her exhales all came out heavy and loud as she wondered how to cope with the evidence. “What’s wrong?” He pulled the shirt off and tossed it to the corner of the room before he tried to grab her, but she took another step back. “You have lipstick—why is there

lipstick on your neck?” He appeared to think about it, as if having the image of a set of hot pink lips impressed on his throat was such a common occurrence, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason for it this particular time. His eyes lit up and he seemed proud of himself when he remembered. “While I sat at the bar, minding my own bizz-ness,” his speech pattern reflected the level of his inebriation, “a woman offered to buy me a da-rink.” His explanation didn’t help to calm Rhees’ pounding heart. “Don’t wor-rry. I told her I was marrried and nawt interested—because I’m nawt!” His next words came out like a

newsflash. “You know what? You were er-right. I do need a flashy, con-spic-uous er-ring. That lady wouldn’t believe me because I wasn’t wearing one.” He flipped his hands up by his shoulders and gave her a wide-eyed look of bewilderment, affirming how truly confused he was about the problem. Rhees grabbed a tissue from the nightstand. Paul sat on the edge of the bed and she stepped between his legs to start wiping the lipstick away. “Damn hijackers, stole our er-rings . . . and other things.” He threw his arms around her waist and buried his head against her stomach like a sad little boy. “I know,” Rhees said quietly. She

felt the same way. The hijackers had stolen, not only their possessions, but their wedding night, the desire she’d felt for Paul, and she felt, possibly the future of their relationship. The fear of never consummating their marriage weighed heavy on her mind, again. She returned his embrace, weaving her hands through his hair in a comforting way. “I’m not sure even a ring would help sometimes,” she said, thinking aloud. “All those women, always trying to catch your attention, trying to kiss you. And I’ve only been dealing with it for a few months. How do you stand having to fight them off all the time?” “I used to pick my battles.” He

snickered, drunkenly. “I didn’t fight them awll off, remember? S’been a nice break. I’ve loved having you be my girrlfriend. Only the pes-ki-est ones don’t take the hint.” She sighed at the truth of it. “I wouldn’t have fought you off.” He lay back, pulling her down on top of him. “I won’t fight you off this time. I’m ready to get it over with, if you still want to.” “You’re drunk.” “Exaactly,” he said, as if it were explanation enough. Rhees groaned with frustration. “You n-know how I get when I’m darunk.”

“You’ve kind of missed the whole point.” “I’m drunk, which means I’m horrny, which means I feel more agree-able about giving you what you think you wawnt. Take off your robe.” He flashed his eyebrows up and down with a crooked grin on his lips. “Paul, you’re drunk. That doesn’t help me one bit. I’m the one who needs to be drunk if we’re going to try again.” “That hurts my feelings.” “Ditto.” She snuggled into his side, resting her head on his chest. “You were gone a long time. I’ve been so worried —and you say I’m the runner. You might be a fighter most of the time, but when

you do take flight . . .” She thought about his story. He’d run away from his home and everyone he cared about. Five years later, he still refused to return. It scared her because despite how much he seemed to dwell on his parents’ shortcomings, he wouldn’t hurt so deeply if he didn’t care about them. He could do the same to her one day. “Don’t run off like that again, okay? Please?” “Sooo, does this mean we’re not getting nasty tonight? Because I have a problem if we’re nawt.” He smirked and set her hand on his groin. “While we’ve been wasting time talking, He’s been

busy building a bridge.” “Oh my gosh. I can’t believe you said that.” She giggled. “You really are drunk.” “Yeah, I am.” He untied the sash on her robe and pushed the sides open, one at a time, enjoying the view as he went. “Okay. I’m willing to try because I need to do this.” She felt so nervous, she rambled. “This might actually work. You’re drunk, and that makes you more willing and less likely to get all gentlemanly on me and stop again before it’s done, so yes, this might finally be it. Please, just don’t freak out if I seem a little scared, because I am scared, but once I see, once it’s over, I’ll be better, I

know I will, just like diving, just like the zip line—” “Shhh, why are you still taaalk-ing?” He pulled her on top of him, slipping her out of her robe completely, letting his hands roam smoothly over her skin. “If you’re nawt going to shuddup, then you need to say something sexxxy—not all the ca-rap we’ve been arguing about over and over again, like beating a dead horse. To. Death.” He mashed his lips to hers, forcefully, and immediately assaulted her with his tongue. He usually gave her more time. “Mmmph . . .” The sound didn’t come from any pleasure he’d given her. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let

go until she wedged her arms between their chests and pushed, making the grossed out sound again. She took a deep breath as soon as he reluctantly let go of her. Paul looked utterly bewildered. “You just said you wanted—” “You stink!” She narrowed her eyes and kept her arms wedged between them. “Have you been smoking? Do not tell me, with your magnificent IQ, you could possibly be dumb enough to start smoking.” She scooted off him and sat up, trying to use her arms to cover herself. “It kills people.” “I quit years ago.” It surprised her to hear he’d ever smoked. “So why do you taste like an

ashtray, right now?” “Aargh!” he growled, glancing down at his abandoned erection. “Someone offered me a cigarette. I smoked one, to be polite.” “Ew! Why would you do that? That doesn’t make any sense at all.” “She offered. It sounded like a good idea at the mo-ment, for old time’s sake —cigarettes used to calm me.” He widened his eyes knowingly, letting her know it was her fault. “And I neeeded a little calm.” “She? Her?” Rhees pulled away a little farther. “Don’t wor-rry. I already told you, I told her I was mar-rried.”

“You shared a freaking cigarette with the same woman who kissed you on the neck. Are you sure you were still at the bar? Because it’s starting to look like you both lit up after . . . after . . . letting her smear her ugly lipstick all over your neck!” Rhees yelled in gusts, not sure if she was more angry or devastated. “Who wears that hideous shade of pink anyway? A cheap, skanky, tramp, whore —an experienced nymph-ho, that’s who —just your type!” She sniffed back the urge to cry but didn’t quite manage it. “You know how much I love your neck.” It came out a sob. She felt so torn about what to do. “We’re married! It’s supposed to be my neck, now, and my

neck only.” Rhees almost hyperventilated, about to break into a bawling fit at the thought of what he might have done. She stood and snatched her robe off the bed, shoved her arms into the sleeves, and slammed the front panels closed around her. “You’re a mar-rried man, Paul.” She imitated the way he slurred the word, mocking him. “You were gone for hours. I’ve been here, waiting for you, worried sick about you, while you were out—” She couldn’t breathe. “Aw, for crying out loud,” he protested. “I didn’t. I sat at the bar awll night and drank myself into this glorious,

mellow stupor. At least, it was a glorious, mellow stupor until you harshed it.” She pulled the duvet off the bed and made a production of making herself a bed on the chaise. “What are you doing?” He looked pathetically disappointed, but she was too mad and too hurt to care. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he whined, but then sighed as if remembering something. “Dang it! I did. I shouldn’t have run out on you.” “Dang it doesn’t quite cover it right now!” she sobbed. “Go to sleep. I don’t want to talk about this anymore!”

Chapter 12 aul opened one eye, groaned, and closed it again. “Need help to the toilet?” Rhees asked softly. “Are you going to throw

up?”

P

“Shh . . . Please don’t scream.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned again. “I don’t throw up, haven’t for years.” His head shot up at the realization of what he did tend to do, and the fact that her voice hadn’t come from her side of the bed, snapped his fuzzy consciousness to full alert. His gaze snapped to the chaise, and then to the duvet, and then to her tear-stained face. She sniffled, and wiped her nose, and then tossed the used tissue into a large pile. His heart gave out. “No, no, no.” He threw himself out

of bed and stumbled onto the floor. He crawled to her on his hands and knees, cursing over and over. He climbed up onto the chaise and somehow maneuvered himself into the chair with her on his lap. “I’m so, so sorry.” He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “It doesn’t matter,” she said as she sniffed again. He cursed some more. “Yes, yes it matters.” “No. I couldn’t sleep, so while I sat here, awake all night, I came to a decision. I don’t care—well, I do care. It hurts like hel—really bad, but the fact

is, I love you, and I can’t not love you— no matter what you did. So it doesn’t matter.” “Did I hurt you?” He let out a sob. “Yes. I wanted to die.” “Oh God,” he sobbed again and put even more effort into his attempt to soothe her, kissing the top of her head again, her forehead, stroking her hair. “I’m so sorry. It shouldn’t have been like that.” “Yeah. Tell me about it,” she said dryly. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not happy about it, but I have to just let it go, because the alternative is—I’ve always looked down on women who do this, women like me. I thought it was a matter

of self-respect, but it’s not. It’s a matter of coming to the understanding, knowing how, even though it hurts—” She twisted to look at him. “It really, really hurts, Paul. My heart is aching.” She turned away and sniffed a few times before wiping her eyes and trying to regain her composure. “We’re both turning into blubbering fools. Aren’t we a pair?” He squeezed her to him, tighter. “It hurts, but it would hurt far more if I had to live without you, even if you did cheat on me.” Paul held perfectly still, processing what she’d just said. It took him a full minute to understand, and then try to remember the night before.

“Rhees?” He didn’t remember much, at all, and needed to ask. “Did I, or did I not, take your virginity last night?” She turned to look at him again, surprised by his question. She’d forgotten to take into account the fact that he was so drunk the night before, he probably didn’t remember anything. “Do you really think I’d let you put He in me, right after you’d just finished dipping it in someone else?” She gave him her incredulous look. “No! You’re going to have to shower at least a dozen times before you can get anywhere near me with that thing.” Paul ran his hand through his hair,

wishing he remembered what happened. He was sure he’d sat at the bar all night. He’d worried about being faithful, in the beginning, but that was a long time ago, and even back then, when they first started their charade, he no longer wanted anyone but Rhees. Everything about her consumed him, in every way. Out of nothing but sheer habit, Nicole had been the closest he’d come, but he’d stopped himself—his feelings for Rhees had stopped him. He didn’t believe he could desire for anyone else, ever again. He thought about it a few more seconds and knew he had his answer—the most convincing piece of evidence—he didn’t feel like he’d

recently scratched that itch. “Did I tell you I slept with someone?” he asked, wondering why he would have. “Did I confess?” “You’d been smoking, and you had lipstick on your neck.” “But did I say that I did, while I still remembered what happened?” She dropped her head, shaking it slowly. He hugged her with a sigh of relief. She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t hug back. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m a selfish bum . . . and right after I told Keene off about that. He warned me about how you’d . . .” His voice trailed off. “I shouldn’t have run out. I shouldn’t

have gotten drunk, and it is absolutely deplorable that I’d leave you all alone right now, while you’re going through all this. But Baby, I don’t think I slept with another woman.” “Prove it.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t.” “I know.” Her voice was quiet. “And it doesn’t matter.” “Shit.” He groaned and dropped his head back while he struggled for air again. “I’ve turned you into my Goddamned mother.” “Well, I understand her now. She loves your dad the way I love you. I’ll just need a little time, that’s all—and

you need a lot of soap and water.” He laughed, but he really didn’t think it was funny. He was convinced he hadn’t committed adultery, but he didn’t know how to convince her. “Proof,” he whispered to himself. “I’d be more relaxed. It’s been a long time, Rhees. If I’d had that kind of release, just last night, I wouldn’t feel like I’m about to freaking explode right now! Holding you right now, loving you so much.” He shifted his hips and pressed himself into her. “Do you feel that?” She nodded, but quickly readjusted herself to get away from it. He dropped his head back again and stared at the

ceiling. She readjusted again, sliding off of his lap, but hunkered down into the crook of his arm. She placed her hand over his heart. He kissed the top of her head again, willing to take whatever she’d give. oOo Rhees was the one to break the silence. They still sat as they were. “I think we should get out of the room,” she said, but she didn’t sound very convincing. “We don’t have to.” “I need to. Yesterday, we talked about giving it a try. Let’s do it.” “We could venture out of the room

for lunch,” he offered. “We’ll have to do the hotel restaurant, but that could be a good thing, in case we need to get back here quickly, if you need to.” “Sounds like a plan.” She took a deep breath. “Lunch then. Today. Not room service.” They were quiet again for a few minutes. “The security guys who brought you home last night said you were some kind of VIP. They were going to call the police, but when they realized who they were dealing with, they brought you back to the room, even though they could have easily had you hauled off to jail. What is that all about?” “Aw, they told you all that?” Paul

squirmed, acting embarrassed. She nodded. “They went above and beyond the call of duty to make you happy, even though you were a demanding, drunken mess.” “Um, supposedly, they call this a suite. They pay a little more attention to their suite guests.” She giggled. “After last night, they aren’t going to think you’re so sweet, after all.” “Yeah, well they never did.” “And why is that?” He hemmed and hawed a few times, looking like he didn’t want to explain but had no choice. “When I checked in, I downgraded .

. . the suite. Remember what room we reserved?” He watched her cautiously, hoping his explanation wouldn’t trigger her bad memories again. “We were only supposed to spend one night here before we headed off to Australia. Well, this room was all they had—I always stay in a suite. They called this a suite, but it’s not. There’s no living room. There’s no couch. It’s pretty much just a basic, oneroom, hotel room with a glorified shower.” “This is a nice room. It’s very elegant.” “It’s not a suite.” “So they’re under the impression you’re hard to please.”

“Let’s just say, they noticed me. Now they get a little nervous when they see me coming.” Rhees smiled. She understood. He’d shown them what angry Paul looks like and now they were afraid of him. She snuggled up against him a little closer than before, feeling a little safer than she had in a while. oOo “You decent?” Paul called out before entering the bathroom. He’d heard the shower turn off, long before. She didn’t answer, but she’d been in there a little too long, again. The laundry manager had delivered their clean

clothes, so Rhees had a choice of her scrubs and the new dress. She couldn’t be struggling to decide what to wear. Even at home with more options she didn’t take this long to get ready. His concern trumped his desire to be courteous, and he walked in. Rhees stood in front of the mirror, fluctuating between looking at her reflection and then down to see herself in person. “You look . . .” Paul almost salivated. “Stunning.” Rhees wore the new brown dress and his head flooded with sweet memories. He’d practically drooled over her every time she’d worn it. She’d

still hated him, but that brown dress always made it impossible to take his eyes off her, like now. He jerked to attention. She looked up and caught him staring and he didn’t know what to make of the flicker of fear that floated across her gaze. “Baby? What’s wrong?” “I can’t wear this.” She looked down at herself again. “I know you went to a lot of trouble to get it for me, but I— I can’t. People will look at me.” Her haunting gaze rose to meet his again. “The way you’re looking at me, now—I can’t—” He swore. “I’m sorry. I don’t know

what I was thinking. Take it off. Put on your scrubs. Take it off. Now!” He watched her bottom lip start to tremble and he couldn’t bear it. He rushed to her and grabbed the bottom of the dress, yanking it up and over her head. He turned and headed to the closet where he tossed the dress onto the floor and grabbed for her scrubs. “Here.” She took them from his hands, turned her back to him, and threw them on. She took a deep breath, as if she’d just received respite from a round of torture. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He cradled her in his arms and rocked back and forth until both their breathing returned to normal.

“We’ll order room service. We don’t have to go out.” “No.” She shook her head, violently. “I need to go out. You need to go out.” “Okay.” He did. He’d been feeling like a caged animal. “We’ll do this, nice and slow, but promise me, you’ll say something if it gets to be too much.” She nodded, but he couldn’t help but worry. “Ready?” She nodded again and even made a pitiful attempt to give him a heroic smile. He winked at his brave girl. oOo They stepped into the small foyer but

Paul held the room door open, waiting for a reaction. She didn’t run back in, screaming, so he did the same thing on the outer door. She poked her head over the threshold and glanced both ways down the long hotel corridor and then nodded as if assuring him the coast was clear. They headed toward the elevators. “The thought of doing this has been much worse than the doing,” she said. “You can stop being such a mama bear. I’m fine.” “You know I can’t help it. I’m genetically compelled to worry about you.” “Yes, I know.” She grinned contentedly as they stepped into the

elevator. He checked on her one more time before pushing the button to the lobby floor. “It’s not fair.” Rhees watched him in the mirrors inside the elevator. “How can you still look so good, hungover, with your eyes all bloodshot? You look different. It gives you a harder edge, but you’re still beautiful.” He humphed, suddenly selfconscious. The doors opened on the fourth floor and two men stepped inside. They talked and laughed boisterously and Rhees tensed. Paul stepped between her and the men and put a protective arm around her. She buried her head into his shoulder and tried to pretend the

strangers didn’t affect her. “You all right?” he asked when they reached the main floor and the men walked out first. “Yeah.” “Okay. Restaurant’s this way.” He took her hand and led the way, but when they passed by the hotel’s convenience store, he stopped. “Maybe we could slip in here and get some eye drops. You up for that?” She nodded. They wandered around the little shop until he found the small medical section. Rhees scanned the store while she waited for him to find the eye drops, and then he turned his attention to the

pain relievers for his headache. She noticed the condoms on the other side of the aisle, and right next to them, a stack of boxes labeled, personal lubricant. “These will do,” he finally said with his choices in hand. He clasped her fingers with his other and led her to the counter where the clerk started ringing him up. He told the girl to charge it to his room and she didn’t bat an eye . . . except to admire Paul. “Um, can we look around a little more?” Rhees asked. “Sure, do you need something?” “Everything was in my bag, on the bus. Yeah, I could use a few things.” Paul followed her around like a

puppy and her hopes of accomplishing her goal diminished. She wandered over to a display of purses and hats. She picked up a small silver clutch. “Can I get this?” She looked at Paul expectantly. “You can buy anything you want. You don’t have to ask me.” She wandered aimlessly around again, picking things up here and there, stalling, trying to figure out how to get rid of him. They’d seen everything in the store at least three times before she stopped at a rack of sunglasses and started trying them on, each and every one of them. She didn’t ask him for his opinion,

purposely avoiding getting him invested in the project. It worked. He started to act bored. His brilliant mind was too active to put up with her determined indecision. She found a pair she liked and headed toward a display of stuffed animals. She hated stuffed animals, but she hoped it would do the trick. She noticed him roll his eyes when she started picking up each animal and looking it over as if seriously deliberating which would be the best addition as the newest member of the family. “You could wait for me outside if you like.”

He looked relieved, ready to jump on his chance to get away, but then he slumped. “No, I don’t mind.” “Paul, you’re hovering, and it’s making me feel rushed. I can’t shop with you pressuring me to hurry.” “Seriously?” He sounded incredulous. “This is you, feeling pressured to hurry?” “Yes!” She stretched up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Please, go. Maybe you can get a drink while I finish up here. You’ll be happier, and I’ll be happier.” He groaned at the suggestion of a drink. It was too soon, his headache was a reminder of that. “Okay. I’ll head over

to the restaurant and get us a table.” He flashed one of his signature smiles, something he hadn’t done since the hijacking, and she knew getting him out of the room had been a good decision. She smiled back and his right eye did its winkie-twitch thing before he leaned down and returned her kiss, but on the lips. Her breath caught and her heart fluttered and for the first time in over two weeks, she felt an inkling of hope. “The restaurant is right across the atrium. See it?” He pointed. “I’ll keep an eye out. If you need me, just flag me down.” “I won’t need you. Go.” He looked

wounded, and she bit her bottom lip. “I will always need you, but I think I can handle buying a brush and some gum, okay?” She waited until he made it to the other side of the atrium before she grabbed what she needed. The girl at the counter was about to ring her up when Rhees saw something else she needed on a shelf behind the clerk. “I’ll take three of those, too.” The girl turned to see what Rhees was pointing to. “Mini bottles? Vodka, or rum?” “Vodka.” Rhees charged it to the room the way Paul had and she removed the tube from

its packaging, slipping it into her purse along with the mini-bottles. The girl gave her a wary look when Rhees handed her the empty box and asked her to throw it away. Rhees glanced back at the restaurant and didn’t see Paul. She nervously stepped out of the store. “Get what you need?” Paul made her jump. He leaned against the window of the store. Rhees was sure she’d been caught and couldn’t answer. He took her hand. “Come on, I found someone I want you to talk to.” He nearly dragged her into the hotel bar and up to the counter. She finally relaxed when he didn’t confront her about her purchase.

“Javier,” Paul said with a smile, offering his hand to fist bump the bartender. The man returned Paul’s greeting with a smile. “Javier, I’d like you to meet my bride, Rhees. Rhees, this is Javier. He took good care of me last night.” “You didn’t need to add such a generous tip to the tab,” Javier said. Paul shrugged modestly, but he honestly couldn’t remember how much he’d tipped the man. “Listen, Javier. My memory is a little fuzzy about last night. Could you remind me what happened?” “You drank, a lot. I normally cut people off, but I could tell you needed to

forget something.” Javier nervously shot Rhees a glance and then looked back at Paul. “I figured that part out when I woke up this morning.” Paul laughed. He pulled Rhees in a little closer. “It’s okay. You can be truthful. My wife and I don’t keep secrets.” Rhees went a little pale. “Did I leave with anyone, like with a woman?” “No. You sat right there, all night, until you did leave, alone.” Paul smiled and gave Rhees a look to suggest he’d proved his innocence. “That doesn’t change the fact you had lipstick on your neck. And there’s

still the ashtray breath.” She gave him a bug-eye look, letting him know he wasn’t off the hook so easily. “Did I do anything inappropriate for a married man? Did I hit on any women?” “No, but the women sure hit on you.” “So, you’re saying I didn’t hit back?” Javier suddenly looked worried. He glanced at Paul, then to Rhees, and back to Paul again. With a little trepidation, he offered, “There was that one lady.” Paul and Rhees’ shoulders sagged at the news. “She sat next to you for almost an hour, trying to convince you to go back to her room with her. I wasn’t trying to

eavesdrop, but she was so obvious, that kind of thing is hard to miss. She offered to buy you drinks, but you kindly refused. You did take a cigarette from her though, and the two of you talked while you smoked. I was helping another customer, so I didn’t hear what happened, but she suddenly stood and started yelling at you. She called you a scary SOB, and stormed off.” “Proof?” Paul turned to Rhees, waiting for her verdict. Rhees couldn’t help the happy grin on her face. She threw her arms around his neck, elated with the news. “She called you scary.” Rhees made it sound like a good thing and squeezed

tighter. “Yeah. It’s definitely proof.” “So how do I always end up the bad, scary guy?” Paul asked. “I try to be nice about turning them down, but they won’t listen until they force me to spell it out to them.” “You don’t scare me.” Rhees planted her lips on his and kissed him for several seconds before she realized what she was doing. She pulled back, their eyes locked on each other. Paul’s expression grew increasingly worrisome, as if he expected her to break into another fit like the one at the police station. She smiled a big, happy smile instead.

Chapter 13 he next morning, Rhees lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Paul paced back and forth in front of the sliding glass door, wearing a path in the carpet, in

nothing but the ugly boxer shorts that, surprisingly, she had found herself starting to think, looked good on him. That little twinge of lust she’d felt while watching him pace had given her hope, once again. Those feelings were coming along, but he made her feel so frustrated with his refusal to even try to see things her way. They’d fought the night before, again. Armed with her new tools, Rhees had tried to convince him to give sex another try. Paul had argued she couldn’t be ready so soon—same old story. She couldn’t tell him how prepared she was, so they’d kissed and made up before falling asleep.

T

That morning, she’d noticed how valiantly He stood at attention when Paul awoke and she’d tried to take advantage of the situation. “You have no idea how hard this is for me,” he snarled, after flying from the bed to avoid temptation. “He’s screaming for some release and I don’t know how much longer I can hold off before I lose my shit and just take you. That’s not what you want!” “Please. Just try,” she begged. She glanced at her new little purse on the desk. If she could get him to agree to cooperate, she’d say she needed to freshen up, grab the bag, telling him her new brush was inside, and she’d sneak

off into the bathroom to get ready for him. It had to work. She climbed off the bed and made her way to the window, and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. It was the best grip she could get as she’d had to catch him midstride. “Please, Paul. You don’t know how hard this is for me, too. I need you to help me get through it. I know it’ll be okay, once it’s over with, the first time.” He didn’t respond to her affection, and she even heard faint cuss words being mumbled under his breath. It spiked her temper that he had to be so pigheaded. “Why are you making this out like it

has to be some grandiose production? Stop treating me like I’m fragile. I’m no different than the other girls. Why can’t you just do what you usually do?” He turned and bore his cold, hard eyes into her but didn’t answer right away. “Paul?” “All right!” he boomed. He took two long steps over to the bed and lay diagonally on top. “Go ahead.” “W—what?” She suddenly felt queasy. “Come on!” he tormented. “I’m here. Go for it! He’s even halfway there for you—hanging on to the morning salute that started this whole thing.”

“But—” “Come on, Baby,” he said through tight lips and clenched teeth. He lifted his head to look at her. “Get it over with.” “You can’t expect me to—” she stammered. How could he expect her to —she was incapacitated, on the verge of panic. “I can’t do that. You—you know I can’t.” “What? You don’t want to do all the work? Why not? This is your idea.” He feigned shock. “Isn’t this exactly what you expect me to do? Oh wait, that’s not quite right. I know I’m not going to freak out and hate every second until it’s over. Hell, I’m not going to lie, I’ll fucking

love it. But you’d rather I hold you down and just take what you don’t want to give?” “Don’t do this.” He dropped his head back on the bed and growled his frustration. She sat on the end of the chaise, trembling, and fighting the urge to cry. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rasped with emotion. “That was a pretty shitty thing to do,” she said, sulking. “Back at ya,” he whispered. “I’m sorry . . . it was called for.” “You mean, uncalled for.” “Nope.” She huffed a laugh, and so he did

too. The phone rang, startling them both. Paul sat up and hit the speaker button of the phone on the bedside table. “What?” he snapped because of the interruption. “Uh,” fumbled the voice at the other end. “I’m sorry, Mr. Weaver, but we have a courier here at the front desk. He says he needs to deliver his package in person.” “Thank goodness. Send him up.” Paul sighed with relief. “Good news, Baby.” He stood and threw on his pants before running into the bathroom. She didn’t get the chance to ask about it. A

few minutes later, he answered the knock at the door before Rhees got off the chaise. He greeted the courier in Spanish and signed for the large envelope, sending the man on his way. Paul stepped back into the bedroom, holding the package up for Rhees to see, with a very excited look on his face, all the tension that had previously been oozing from every pore, had disappeared. “You’re looking at freedom, Baby.” He looked like a boy at Christmas as he opened the package and spilled the contents on the bed, a black, leatherbound folder, another leather-bound booklet, and a leather billfold.

“That’s freedom?” With a knowing grin in place, Paul pulled on the silk ribbons in the folder, looking at her like a magician in the middle of a magic trick. Two credit cards slid out of some secret compartment and he popped them out to hold them up for her to see. He’d done that before. “When I left . . .” He hesitated, apparently not liking the memory of how he’d stormed out the other night. “On the way to the bar, I stopped in at the hotel’s business center. The hotel provides courtesy computers and printers, that sort of thing, for their guests. I ordered new credit cards. I’ve been too pre-

occupied to think of doing it sooner. I’ve been stuck here at the hotel, putting everything on my tab. That night, I finally remembered to report my stolen cards.” He held up the cards again and fanned out a stack of cash he’d just pulled from the billfold. “The fastest replacement service on the planet. That’s what you get with a good credit card and a redonkulous annual fee that I’ve never been so happy about paying, before now. But this means we don’t have to be hostages to the hotel anymore. What do you say we go out, really out, have lunch at a nice restaurant, away from this building that’s been my prison for the last two and a

half weeks?” His eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “We can get new clothes.” She nodded at his idea and smiled at the confirmation, once again. She’d figured it out when he charged their purchases at the store, and then again at the restaurant, but up to that point, she’d been sure, the loss of his wallet to the hijackers was one more piece of evidence that he’d been with a woman, a woman who paid for his drinks. “When I ordered the new card, I added your name to my account as an authorized user.” He handed her a card. “Mine is unlimited, but for some reason, they only gave your card a hundred thousand-dollar limit.”

“Only a hundred thousand.” She felt too shell-shocked to give him a proper reaction. “It’s just for now. We’ll get you your own account when we get home. Even though I authorized you to use the card, unless you’re with me, you don’t get to take advantage of any of the perks I get as the account holder. It aggravates me.” “Paul, the only credit card I’ve ever owned had a three hundred-dollar limit.” She’d fumbled around in the dark, found the switch to her brain, and turned it back on. “I think this is adequate—oh, and don’t forget, it’s a hundred-freakingthousand-dollars!” she shrieked. “What the heck would I possibly need that much

money for? Except for maybe a house, I’d never sign up for that much debt.” “You don’t run up debt. You pay it off every month.” Paul chuckled as if she’d just cracked a joke. He gave her a quick smooch on the lips. “Credit cards are convenient. You get purchase protection, theft protection, perks.” He held up the money and new cards again to remind her. “All your spending records are in one place. Convenience.” He handed her the card again but she still didn’t reach for it. “Take it. I need you to promise me you’ll use it if you need anything.” He watched her, and she could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes. “Rhees. This

card is your independence. I don’t want you to feel like you have to come to me for money every time you need something. You’re my wife. What once was mine, is now yours—ours.” The look on her face must have made him doubt she would, because he let out a frustrated sigh. “Humor me. Just put it in your new little purse for emergencies. Give your hubby some peace of mind, okay?” She nodded, for his benefit, but she had to concentrate—actually had to talk herself out of hyperventilating. She’d just caught her first real glimpse of what he meant about being rich. He’d spoiled her on occasion. Indulged himself, taking

her along for the ride, but she’d had no life experience to put it into context. oOo Paul and Rhees took their time at lunch. With a recommendation from the concierge, they’d walked to a very nice restaurant not far from the hotel. Fresh air, good food, a great wine list, Paul finally felt like he could breathe again. They had gin and tonics with their appetizer, two glasses of wine with their entrées, and their coconut ice cream came doused with a shot of Kahlua. They were feeling pretty good when they walked out onto the street in a popular upscale shopping district.

“Let’s shop now. You need clothes.” Paul knew it to be one of the safer parts of the city and would be able to refrain from acting too bodyguard with her. “What? You don’t like my green scrubs?” “You’d look good in a gunny sack, but you’d look even better in a sexy, short, very sheer sundress.” “Short? Sheer?” She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Sounds just like me.” “So which animal did you choose?” Paul asked, avoiding any further reference to his mistake of mentioning sexy, sex—anything having to do with the topic. He really needed a swim. The

hotel room was too small for his needs. The bathroom didn’t have a door and the thought of her walking in on him, catching him swimming in the open concept shower—he thought for sure, in her condition—he didn’t want to scar her for life. “What?” “The stuffed animals. Yesterday. Which one did you buy?” “I didn’t buy one. I don’t really like stuffed animals. They do nothing but collect dust.” He paused to give her a confused look, but seeing her, after a long two and a half weeks, she looked relaxed and more like herself than he’d noticed so

far. A strand of her hair fluttered in the slight breeze and he reached to tuck it behind her ear. “You seem to be doing all right out here in the world,” he said, taking her in. “Yeah, it’s not as hard as I had myself all worked up, thinking it would be.” “Good. That’s very good.” Paul tugged on the hem of her shirt. “Let’s shop.” He took her hand and pulled her into the nearest clothing store. She felt out of place the second they walked in. It seemed to her there were only four things to choose from in the whole store and not one of them excited her.

“This place intimidates me,” she whispered to him. Her insecurity only grew when the saleswomen looked her up and down, making no attempt to hide their disgust with her outfit, and then they noticed Paul. Suddenly, they were falling over themselves to be helpful. “My wife needs clothes,” he said. The women were too obviously disappointed about hearing he was married but still raced around, showing him, not Rhees, their collection. Rhees still wasn’t impressed. “Paul, I see nothing here I like.” She leaned into him to whisper again. She hated the way the two sales clerks treated her like a hick, fresh off the farm,

but also how openly they tried to flirt with her husband. “Okay Baby, anything you say.” He shrugged helplessly at the women, letting them know Rhees was in charge. He kissed Rhees with a little more passion than usual while in public, also showing them how in love he was with the woman they’d looked down their noses at, and he ushered her out the door. He turned back and flashed them one of his evil smiles and saluted them with his middle finger but then looked sheepish when he realized Rhees had caught him being rude. “Sorry,” he said when they stepped outside. “I hated the way they treated

you. I would have said something—it was hard not to let them have it, but I didn’t want to burn any bridges before I knew you weren’t going to buy something in there.” “Actually . . .” She returned his sheepish grin. “I thought it was kind of hawt—this time. Not all the time, but you do make me feel safe—knowing the lengths you’ll go to look out for me.” “Hawt?” He arched a brow at her choice of words. She nodded, shyly, and looked up at him through her lashes. He blew out a long breath, knowing his days were numbered. Rhees was slowly killing him. She was so beautiful and he was so

—he needed to research exploding testicles. He had to know how much longer he had to live. oOo They tried a few more stores. Paul bought a few things for himself, wearing the new clothes when he came out of the dressing room. He’d ripped the tags off and handed them to the cashier so she could ring him up. He also handed her his slacks and golf shirt. “Can you toss these in the trash for me?” he asked the girl before he turned to Rhees and made a production of modeling what he had on. He wore a button-up dress shirt,

untucked of course. The shirt was white with what looked like a thin, light blue stripe, but the stripes were fashioned from a scrolling vine pattern. They all slanted downward toward the line of buttons in the front, and to the middle seam in the back. He looked at Rhees, tilted his head and raised one brow, before pointing to his shirt, waiting to see if she’d pick up on the V pattern. She blushed because she did. He also bought a pair of jeans—not his usual brand but Rhees liked the way they looked on him—a lot. “Not quite my usual attire,” he said. “But I won’t have to be a walking advertisement for the hotel anymore.”

A few more stores later, Rhees still hadn’t found anything for herself and Paul was starting to get grumpy. “Baby, you need clothes. I have clothes at home, but almost everything you owned disappeared with our luggage.” “Is there a Wal-Mart around?” She tried to laugh it off, sensing his waning patience. “No. There isn’t. Maybe you’ll have to settle for something a little more sophisticated.” “I’m sorry I’m not more sophisticated, but I just don’t get these boutique shops.” She heard him growl under his

breath, but he took her hand again, and they continued their walk along the street. “That was uncalled for,” he said a minute later. “I’m sorry. You always look beautiful, very elegant. I’ve always admired your fashion sense.” They stopped at every store but only looked in the windows because she moaned every time he tried to drag her inside when they all looked the same. They neared the end of the shopping district, noticing the stores seemed to be getting less luxurious and expensive, but also where Paul started expressing his concern about their safety. “Wouldn’t something—anything, be

better than these scrubs?” His frustration showed in his tone. “You said you were tired of them. Why are you making this so much harder than it needs to be?” Rhees’ shoulders sagged. “I can’t bring myself to pay so much money for something I don’t even like.” “Would you forget about the money aspect? Please?” he begged. His anxiety level continued to rise. “I can’t. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to just throw money away.” “It’s not throwing it away if you’re buying something you can wear to get by for a while. You need clothes!” Rhees shook her head, disheartened at his souring mood.

“This reminds me of our wedding ring and dress shopping fiasco,” he said under his breath. “So you think I’m being uncooperative, on purpose?” She remembered his reaction that day. He’d said her contrariness turned him on. She’d feared he’d take her right there on the street that day. Her heart skipped a few beats thinking about how worked up he seemed to be getting. She could use that if she had the courage. She thought of the secret weapons in her purse and took a deep breath, trying to ward off the lightheadedness creeping over her. “No.” He looked down at her out of

the corner of his eye. “But I should have left you back at the room and just bought you some things myself.” “Yeah. Maybe you should have.” She tried to sound snotty even though she didn’t really feel it. “What about this one?” Paul said with a sigh, pointing to the store they stood in front of. She’d stopped paying attention, convinced they weren’t going to find the kind of stores she liked. Rhees looked in the window and Paul waited for her to come up with some excuse as to why this store was a bad idea, just like all the others, but she didn’t. The store was cram-packed with

inventory. Each rack had one big price tag on the top, indicating the bargains to be found. “Now that looks like my kind of store.” She practically ran as if she couldn’t wait to get inside and begin rummaging through the racks. “This is going to take a while, isn’t it?” It’d taken Paul a minute to realize what he was in for. He thought about why he’d liked the other stores. Fewer options meant less time making decisions. Rhees didn’t pay attention to him but started handing him clothes to hold so her hands could be free to scour the racks, one piece at a time. “Do you like this one or this one?”

She held up two pairs of shorts. “If you like both—buy both.” He didn’t understand the dilemma. “They’re the same length and almost the same color. It’d be a waste of money to buy two of the same thing. Which one is the cutest?” “Rhees,” he sighed. “If we can afford to spend thirteen thousand dollars on a vacation we didn’t take, we can afford to spend—” He affectionately mocked her as he reached for the tag. He rolled his eyes and looked at her like she was crazy. “—Six dollars and ninetynine cents on a pair of shorts—that you like—when you really need new shorts.” He couldn’t help his grin. He didn’t

remember for sure, but the dress he’d bought the night before at the hotel had to have cost at least a couple hundred dollars. Not a good time to tell her that, though, especially now that she might never be able to bring herself to wear it. “I’ll try them both on. Maybe I can decide then,” she said, disregarding his sarcasm. She continued to look at each and every item on the rack—every rack. Paul finally accepted that they weren’t going to be leaving the store anytime soon. He tried to ignore how much her shopping habits made him want to pull out his nose hair and reminded himself to think on the bright side. Concentrating this

hard on choosing clothes and getting the most for her dollar meant her mind wasn’t dwelling on the unpleasant memories that’d had them both stuck in hell.

Chapter 14 divorce me,” Rhees said out of “I ftheyoublue, “I’ll fight for custody of the shop.” “I’m not going anywhere.” Paul felt

blindsided by her comment. “Why would you say that?” She just shrugged. “Rhees?” He tried not to get worked up—not an easy task considering the toll the last couple of weeks had taken on him. They’d argued far too much the last few days. He normally didn’t mind a little contention, but he hated the topic of their recent disagreements. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” “Nothing.” She looked to be concentrating on her shopping as though the topic was just normal chit-chat for a day out on the town. “We’re married— it’s half mine now.” Paul looked away, not wanting her to

see the guilt on his face. They weren’t in the States and women didn’t have the same rights. He didn’t feel the need to explain to her how different the laws were—he meant it—he wasn’t going anywhere. But the fact she’d brought it up agitated him. “Are you drunk?” “No.” Her head snapped up to look at him. “Maybe a little, are you?” “No. Maybe a little,” he conceded. He forced a smile and watched her, taking her in, hoping he’d found the reason for her recent topic of conversation. “I’m thinking I’m a little less drunk than you.” “I see a bar across the street. Why

don’t you go catch up?” “I’m good.” He’d never seen the look on her face before and didn’t understand the expression. She resumed her shopping, leaving him free to study her and try to understand what she could be thinking. Sometimes he thought he needed a freaking crystal ball. “It would never get to that, would it —a divorce, I mean.” She finally spoke again as though the conversation never had the long silent pause. “You’re a lawyer, so you know how it works better than I do. The courts wouldn’t even recognize our marriage, would they? Isn’t annulment like saying the marriage never really even happened? You know .

. . if one of us changed our minds and decided to just end it before we . . . you know?” She looked at all the clothes he held in his arms for her. “I didn’t realize how many things I’ve pulled to try on. I’d better get started.” She grabbed for the clothes but he jerked them away so they’d be out of her reach. “I’ll carry them,” he snapped. He didn’t mean to, but he found himself reeling from her comments. She headed to the back of the store, toward the dressing rooms, and he followed. “Why are you thinking about this, divorce and annulment? I said I’m not going anywhere.”

He watched her shrug her shoulders, and he sighed his frustration. He’d grab her, and try to shake some sense into her, if he wasn’t so loaded down—or kiss her silly—he’d really like to kiss her until she stopped coming up with such ridiculous thoughts. The rooms were all empty and Paul handed the clothes off to her at the door of the room she’d chosen. “Rhees? Are you?” He needed an explanation. She appeared a little off and he didn’t understand. “Do you have plans to—?” “Just thinking out loud.” She shrugged again and closed the door, paying no attention to the fact that his

face happened to be in the way, and he had to jump back to keep from being hit. He banged his fist against the door, venting his mounting anxiety, which as usual, looked more like anger. Could she really consider calling it quits? Could she really just end it? He moved to the main entrance to the dressing rooms and leaned against the doorjamb. He needed to think. Rhees had half the store in the stall with her— he’d have plenty of time to do just that. He wished he had a time machine. He was a man of action, and standing around, sitting around, lying around all this time, waiting for her to find her way back—Yeah a time machine would come

in handy about now—right now when the storm brewing inside would help him do what he wished he could at the moment. He had an amazingly long list of people he’d eliminate before they ever set eyes on his baby—before they ever had a chance to have a single filthy thought about her. Too bad things couldn’t be so simple. He needed Claire. He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, but let out a string of choice words instead. His hand came out empty, and the images of the hijackers smashing all the phones came to mind. Phones—one more thing he still hadn’t taken care of, yet, because of the strain he and Rhees had been

under. Next thing on his to-do list, as soon as Rhees found some clothes, they were going to buy new phones. After that, there was one more thing. At the police station, while he’d waited his turn to be interrogated, he’d seen a phone and a phone book sitting on an empty desk. He’d made the call then. That was over two weeks ago. It would be ready by now. He nodded to himself with a hopeful smile. That’s what she needs. That’ll get her mind off of divorce, and annulments, and what the —custody of the shop? From where he stood, he could see the whole store. Another couple shopped together. They couldn’t keep their hands

off each other. The young woman who worked there rang up two girls at the counter in the front. They exchanged pleasantries and the girls walked out of the store with big smiles on their faces, pleased with their purchases. If only his life could be so simple. “Paul?” Rhees called him, disrupting his thoughts. “Yeah, Baby. I’m right here.” Rhees stood in the open door of her dressing stall, wearing one of the new outfits for him to see. “Do you like this one?” “It looks great.” She looked like heaven, actually. “Are you okay?”

His dark thoughts had obviously taken a toll on his countenance. She always read him too well. He nodded, and after a moment of hesitation, she closed the door. About a minute later, she opened it again. “Do you like this one better?” “Which one do you like?” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t be asking if I could decide.” “I liked the other one.” He dropped his head down to hide his grin. In spite of the conflict raging inside him, she was just so damned cute. He wondered if she’d ever be able to spend money without the anxiety, pennies that their bottom line would never notice—that is,

if she didn’t decide to leave his sorry ass. “Really? I think I like this one better.” She closed the door leaving him to shake his head. I should’ve known she’d pick the one I didn’t. He chuckled, quietly. She ran him through the same drill several times, choosing the opposite of what he said, every time, and he wondered why she bothered to ask. He wanted to be helpful, but he really couldn’t understand why she didn’t just buy everything she’d taken into the dressing room. She liked it enough to try it on. He smirked, wishing she would just buy everything. That many clothes would last a while and

save him from another shopping trip with her. The female half of the other couple walked past him and headed into one of the dressing stalls on the opposite end of the room where Rhees was. Not long after she closed the door, the man she’d been with walked past Paul too. Still leaning against the doorjamb, Paul looked over his shoulder to watch the man knock on the woman’s door, holding an article of skimpy clothing in his hands. His lady friend opened the door. “You should try this on,” he said in a seductive voice. She giggled and quickly ushered him in. Paul grinned, knowing what they

were probably doing inside. The walls were more soundproof than he would’ve imagined. oOo Rhees leaned against the door in her stall, holding the second mini bottle of vodka in her hand. She’d downed the first one already and she had two more to go, but she was having second thoughts. She knew Paul was hanging by a thread, she’d done everything in her power to get him there. She started a prayer, she’d need help from a higher power, but she couldn’t finish it. It didn’t feel right to ask God to help her do something so wrong.

She stared at the bottles of vodka in her purse. She’d emptied one already, but after one swallow from the second, she flung her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. She couldn’t—she needed to do this—every cell in her body screamed it had to be done, but she made a new decision right then. If she was really going to go through with it, she’d have to do it with a clear mind, at least, as clear as it was at the moment. It was the only fair way to go. She wiped her eyes with another sniff and screwed the lid back on, setting it back in her purse with the others, one empty, one full. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth to disguise the fresh

alcohol scent, and hoped Paul wouldn’t suspect she’d just tried to get plastered, but changed her mind. She finished that prayer after all, and then stood up straighter. She looked at herself in the mirror but only saw the orange silky bra and panty set she wore. She’d grabbed several sets and quickly tucked them between the other clothes, acting embarrassed to be buying such things in front of Paul. Thankfully, he’d been a gentleman and pretended not to notice. She took a deep breath, let it out, and opened the door. Paul hadn’t moved from his position,

resting against the doorway, holding the building up by keeping that one support beam firmly in place. He heard Rhees’ door open and he glanced up, anticipating another round of telling her which outfit she shouldn’t buy. His mouth gaped open. “What about this one?” At that moment, the man in the other stall opened the door, tucking his shirt back into his pants, before he stepped out. Paul felt his heart drop to his feet and he rushed to Rhees, pushing her inside. He slammed the door closed behind them. “What do you think you’re doing?” He almost coughed from how high his

voice had just registered. “What if someone had seen you?” “I usually like the way I look in orange, but I’m worried this one makes me look fat,” she said, ignoring his outburst. “What do you think?” His eyes slowly skimmed all the way down and back up again, drinking her in. “Or do you like the black one better?” She held up the other bra and panty set, still on the hanger. His eyes darted from the lingerie she held in her hand to her scantily clad body. He cleared his throat but didn’t know what to say. “Paul? You’re not helping. Which

one do you like?” “You’ll need more than one.” He reached out and touched the black one, feeling the soft, smooth fabric. He would have preferred to know what the orange fabric felt like, but he didn’t trust himself not to test the skin wearing it, as well. “Even Princess Penny-Pincher cannot convince me she can get by with only one set of these.” He met her eyes, on to her little sham, but she glanced down at herself and back up again with a quizzical expression, still keeping up the charade. He looked again, too, following her example. It was a reflex—he couldn’t help it. His eyes caught at her breasts on

the way back up her body. He tilted his head to the side, staring studiously at the dark circles showing through the sheer bra as though they were a problem that needed solving. His breath shuddered, but then he realized what he’d done and averted his eyes, snapping out of the stupor induced by the blood that had abandoned one head in favor of another. “Not again. Baby, please. Not here —not now.” He knew the look in his eyes didn’t match his protest. He caught himself with his tongue practically hanging out. He licked his lips to try and make it look like he’d meant for it to be there. She looked sexy—so freaking sexy—standing there in nothing but a

sheer bra and matching panties. Oh, God. Help me. “Well?” She looked up at him through her lashes, a hint of a mischievous smile on her lips. “Well . . .” He looked her over again, down, then up. “Huh?” “You didn’t answer.” She really did smile. “. . . About my outfits.” “Mm!” He grunted his approval. “Buy them both. Buy every set in the store. Please.” He closed his eyes, smiling, but trying to rein in his thoughts. “What’s the point?” Her anger came out of nowhere, or more likely from the restraint he kept insisting they maintain. He was really trying not to traumatize

her, but she’d made it clear, a gazillion times, she believed he didn’t find her attractive. If he did, he’d want her enough to get it over with. “Baby—” “I’m nothing but a fragile weakling to you. You like taking care of me, your baby, but you’re never going to touch me because I am nothing but a baby to you, so what’s the point of buying sexy undies.” He frowned and glanced down. “First of all, the word undies isn’t very sexy . . . even though you look very sexy in said undies.” He took another leisurely look but his serious facial expression didn’t change. “Second . . .”

He was aware of his growing interest, but he didn’t dare let his smarter head feel anything but caution. “Buy them all, and we’ll try this again at the room.” “But it’s not helping now,” she sneered. “What a surprise!” “Yeah, it’s helping pretty darn good, but—” “But what?” “Let’s finish shopping. You need clothes.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to convince himself as much as her. He had another thought he hoped would save the moment and spare him another round of knockdown, drag out, arguing. “We need condoms,” he spat out.

“Ours are in our missing luggage, remember?” “You’re just stalling.” She didn’t understand what he was trying to do for her. “Nooo,” he said in a sing-song tone. “We’re in a dressing room.” “That’s never stopped you before,” she said tersely. He frowned again. That hurt. “You’re not on the pill. I have no condoms on me. I stopped carrying them a long time ago, as a deterrent, as a reminder to keep my hands off you.” He pressed his lips tightly together, remembering some of his not-so-fine moments.

Before he met Rhees, during his kamikaze days, he hadn’t always been so diligent about wearing one. “I don’t know why. You don’t seem to need any reminders, now.” He took a cleansing breath, trying to keep his cool. “You know that’s not true. It’s just, after Costa Rica—I have a feeling I could get you pregnant just looking at you.” “I wasn’t pregnant. It was gastroenteritis, or giardia, or something. I was the only one who had a glass of water at dinner the night we got back. Everyone else at the table drank beer.” He made another frustrated face at

his thwarted attempts to prevent another fight. He gave it another try. “When we get to the room, we’ll try again, okay?” he said with a forced calm. “You can model your new undies for me, there. We’ll take it real slow this time. If I jerk—” He caught himself. “It’s been a while. If I take care of a few things, first . . . it’ll help. It’ll buy more time that I can use to take care of you.” She seemed to be listening and he thought it was a good sign. “We’ll get through this, but not right now, not here.” He watched her eyes change from hope to something darker, anger. “We have things to do. Let’s finish getting you some clothes, and then we

need to buy new phones. I have a surprise errand after that, and then, when we get back to the hotel, we’ll stop at the little shop and pick up some condoms.” “In the room, you say you need to get out. Now we’re out, you say you need to wait until we’re back in the room.” She shook her head and let out a humorless laugh. She turned her back on him to hang the black set back on the hook. Watching him in the mirror, she reached back to undo the bra she was modeling. “You rattled off a million things you’d rather do. Might as well just buy plain, white cotton, and park myself back in the eternal friend zone, or better yet, why

don’t you just stick a pacifier in my mouth, and lock me in the nursery. I’ll never be able to compete with your groupies.” He closed his eyes, not quite knowing what to do or say. He didn’t understand how she could throw his past in his face, again. Not just his womanizing days, the past she claimed didn’t matter, unless she lost her temper, the only time she ever said what was really on her mind, but . . . lock her up in the nursery? Did she really just trivialize his childhood nightmare? For all the accusations and blame she kept heaping on him, it was her hang-ups keeping them from completing

their marriage contract. She was the one who couldn’t stand him touching her. She was the one who brought up divorce and annulment, accusing him of being ready to just walk away, as if he could. He wasn’t the one mentally divvying up their assets—Custody of my shop? Rhees fumbled to get the bra undone but froze when she realized, by watching Paul in the mirror, she might have miscalculated how much she wanted what she knew she’d just succeeded in getting. His eyes closed, and he slowly shook his head as a low growl rumbled from his throat. His lips pressed together in a tight line, but his whole jaw

twitched. “I am so fucking tired,” he said through clenched teeth, “of having this God-damned fucking conversation over, and over, and fucking over again!” She turned at his words, taken aback. She recognized the tone, she’d been needling him, provoking him all afternoon, but she never expected his reaction to be so soon, or so severe. Before she had a chance to attempt any damage control, he was on her. He swooped in against her, lifted her, and pressed her body against the wall with his own, smashing his lips over hers. She gasped but his mouth was on hers so firmly, the breath came from his

own lungs, making the sound of a regulator, stunning her. He claimed the air back the same way, and she was sure he’d inhaled her soul. Letting him have it couldn’t have felt more right, and she wilted. He glanced at her, searching her eyes, and apparently, found what he was looking for because his angry kisses morphed into something more passionate and needy. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and pulled him in, closer, returning his kisses with the hunger she once feared she’d never feel again. He held her to the wall with his bulk while he shredded the panties right from

her body as though they were cheap crepe paper. His hands were suddenly where her panties had been, fingers playing . . . his eyes watching hers, daring her to make him stop. She didn’t. He suddenly stilled, glanced down, and examined the fingers he’d had on her. Uncertainty clouded his expression and they hung there, unmoving, while he allowed whatever it was, to register. His eyes shot back to see hers again. He blinked, and just as fast, they were on the floor. He hovered over her, keeping his weight on his knees and one arm while he wrapped his other arm around the

back of her neck. He waited for her to panic, to push against him, to whimper for him to stop. Rhees reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, instead. He helped her and tossed it into the corner before looking to her one more time to be certain. She grabbed his face with both hands and pulled his mouth down to hers again, adding her tongue. He swore without breaking their kiss, and then reached down to undo his jeans, slipping them down as far as he could without having to release her mouth. As powerfully as she held him, he couldn’t have if he’d tried.

He began fondling her again, watching, anticipating, holding her hostage with his gaze. He absorbed her shaky breaths with his mouth, breathing in each one while focused on her eyes, desire smoldering in the beautiful, intense blue of his own. She felt lost in him—the burning desire in his eyes—for her, and then . . . she burned. Rhees’ eyes snapped closed with a deep gasp, bearing through the initial sting, but also breaking the spell. She looked back again, hoping he’d resume his magic and make it all better, but she’d lost him. His face burrowed into her neck, his breath, quick irregular gusts in her ear, against her skin, sent

goose bumps down her body as he moved, enveloping her in his arms, clutching at her as though his life depended on climbing as far inside her as he could get. She tossed her head back again, wondering how much longer it would take. How much longer it would sting. It wasn’t an unbearable pain, but her eyes watered, not tears, she wasn’t crying, it just burned. Paul jerked himself out of her with a hiss, pressing He against her lower belly as he continued to writhe. He finally quivered in her arms and collapsed on her, panting all the names he called her, over and over.

She held him even tighter, fascinated by the potency of his ecstasy and the warm liquid she felt pumping against the skin of her stomach. She smiled contentedly, and caressed his back and shoulders, peppering his neck, his Adam’s apple, with kisses. Paul lay on her, motionless until his breathing returned to normal. “Jesus! What the fuck was that?” he said, shuffling himself to the side so he wouldn’t smash her. “I’m sor—” She placed her finger over his mouth, shushing him. “I think it was just that, what you said.” She giggled, quietly. Her eyes radiated warmth.

“Shit! Why didn’t you say something about how cold the floor is?” “I didn’t notice,” she laughed. He glanced at her and shook his head as his wits started coming back to him. He reached and gently brushed a strand of her hair from her face. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” She smiled, almost giddily. He put his arm under her so that she could rest her head on him instead of the floor. “Not quite the bed of rose petals I had originally planned—that was nothing like the way I’d planned it. I’m sorry, Baby.” She shrugged, and looked up at him, all dreamy eyed. “Why did you stop?”

she asked curiously. “Why did I stop?” A garbled chuckle came out. “That’s just the way it works. It doesn’t go on forever, though it would be nice if it did.” “But . . .” She suddenly sounded worried. “You stopped so fast and put He on my stomach. Did I do it wrong?” “Oh.” He remembered her attacker had told her she’d done it wrong, too. Shit! While it made him sick to think about it, he wanted to set her mind at ease. He kissed her forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not possible to do it wrong. Outside of maybe biting—while some biting is okay —” He smiled mischievously for a

second, but then gave her a quick, hesitant look, knowing she knew nothing about it. “Just . . . please don’t ever bite He, okay?” He chuckled again, kind of, hoping she understood. “Baby, just about anything goes. If it feels good, it’s not wrong, as long as we’re both comfortable with it, okay? So as long as we’re open with each other, you’ll never do it wrong, but you have to be honest, and let me know if you’re ever not comfortable. Got that?” “Okay, but . . .” Paul could tell her question still hadn’t been answered. “I didn’t pull out because you did anything wrong.” She was still so naïve.

He skimmed her cheek with the back of his fingers and she hummed, savoring his touch. “No condom, remember? Pull out before the baby-builders escape, lessen the chance of the critters building a baby.” “Oh.” He felt her go slack in his arms with his answer, but something else too. Again, he got the feeling she wouldn’t mind if they’d made one. He hugged her tighter. As they lay there, he looked up at the walls. The room was so small. He glanced around. Not only was the floor cold, it was filthy. “We’re in a dressing room.” She rolled her head to look at him,

too adoringly. He didn’t like it, not after what he’d just done. “I wouldn’t care if we were in a stinking bathroom.” She beamed. “We did it. We’re really married now.” He stared at her, dumbfounded. She didn’t seem to realize what she’d just said, but he did. The magnitude of what they—what he’d just done hit him full force. He already felt regret for being weak, for not holding out until he could make it special, but now—he didn’t know how he was supposed to live with himself. He didn’t know how she could possibly live with him. But she would because she was so . . . he was muddled and angry with himself—and her, for

putting up with his selfish shit, yet again. “Look around. It’s filthy. It doesn’t remind you of something?” She seemed taken aback by his sudden fit of temper. She looked around, trying to see what he was talking about, but she was blind to anything but rainbows and butterflies—and him. She leaned into him and tried to kiss him, but he turned his head, pretending not to notice. He sat up, still pretending to be oblivious to her love-struck swooning, and started pulling his jeans back up. He caught a glimpse of himself and froze— the blood shocked him and he sat, staring at it for much too long. He finally

snapped out of the stupor, jerked his pants up the rest of the way, but didn’t zip them up. He needed a few more minutes to make room, and it wouldn’t hurt to be reminded a little longer, what he’d done. The thought of never washing it off came to mind. Maybe the constant reminder of how he’d never change would be good for him. He rested his arms on his knees, staring at it, shaking his head, over and over. “Do you think you might tell me what’s wrong, why you’re so detached all of a sudden?” she asked. He turned and watched as she tried to sit up but his

cum ran from her stomach and she stopped to stare at the white mess, tinged with blood. He hurriedly grabbed her scrubs, the first thing within his reach, top and bottoms, in one handful, and started wiping the mess a little brusquely. She perched on her elbows, watching as he worked to clean her up. When he finished the job, he tossed the scrubs into the corner of the room with a little too much emphasis. He glared at her with a mix of anger and remorse in his eyes. “Stop,” she whispered. “Too late!” he hissed. “You should have said that a little sooner.”

“Why are you doing this? Why would you ruin it?” “It was ruined before it ever started.” “No.” It came out a quiet plea, a whimper. She teared up. “We just made love. Why would you spoil—” “We didn’t make love—we fu—” He stopped himself, unable to finish what she knew he’d almost called it. In spite of his anger, he couldn’t stoop to calling it what he’d been about to, for her sake, but she knew it was only for her sake. He dropped his head onto his arms and took a few deep breaths. “That wasn’t making love.” He tipped his head to face her, his lips

pressed into a tight line and he almost trembled, holding back the anger and self-loathing that would have otherwise seethed from every pore. “Welcome to Angry Sex 101.”

Chapter 15 aul lay back down, his legs bent at the knee, and he covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. He didn’t move again. Rhees watched him for several

minutes wondering how he could be so indifferent after what they’d just done. His regret felt like rejection and made her feel the need to get out of there, away from him. Still naked, she wore only the orange bra that didn’t belong to her. She reached for her scrubs and got a handful of gooey mess, which repelled her hand. She felt faint. She had to get out. She looked up at the clothes on the hooks. She stood and grabbed the black panties, they didn’t match, but caring was the farthest thing from her mind. She pulled them on and the tag dug into her hip. She ripped it off and grabbed for one of the shirts and a pair of shorts, shrugging

P

them on in haste, breaking the tags off of them as well. When she grasped the doorknob with her trembling hand, she hesitated. Fight or flight. Paul’s words stung her conscience. Dammit! He was right. She did run from everything painful. She said she’d try not to run anymore and she kicked herself for making such a stupid promise. He’d set an impossible standard for promise keeping and she was too stubborn to disregard it, but she could push it to the limit. She’d given her word not to run so far he couldn’t find her, but she could at least get the hell out of that room. She took one last look at Paul, still

on the ground, still shutting her out, covering his eyes. It was the last nudge she needed. “I’ll leave you alone so you can reflect on what a horrible ordeal it was, forcing yourself to have sex with me. I’ll be outside.” “Rhees!” She ran out, slamming the door as she did. She burst from the dressing rooms and drew in a long breath of air as if she’d been holding it for a long time. She flailed about with indecision. She wanted to run even farther but couldn’t. She wanted to cry, but couldn’t. She wanted to scream. She’d finally gathered her resolve, walked to

the counter, and handed the tags from the clothes she wore to the clerk. “I’m going to wear these clothes out,” she said in the most reserved voice she could muster. The clerk returned a blank look. Rhees had to think about how to say it in Spanish and did the best she could. Pointing to the new clothes on her body, she said, “Lo siento, no hablo Español.” She pointed to the tags on the counter and then back to the clothes she had on. The girl finally understood and turned to the register to ring her up. “Wait. I don’t have any money on me.” Rhees turned to go back to the dressing room but caught herself. Her

purse with her new credit card was still in there, but so was Paul. Her heart pounded against her chest, she couldn’t gain control over her breathing, and the need to get away hit her again. She looked out the window, hoping that seeing the sunshine outdoors would help soothe her anxiety. It didn’t. She wanted to be out there, farther away from Paul than the space between the showroom floor and the dressing rooms provided. She looked back again, knowing that he’d be coming out any second. She still couldn’t bear the thought of facing him. She looked out the window again and noticed a bar across the street.

“Mi esposo, he’ll pay for the clothes.” She didn’t know enough words. She pointed at the dressing room. “Mi esposo. Dinero!” The girl looked bewildered and anxious, almost as panicky as Rhees felt. She didn’t know how to tell the girl that her husband would pay for the clothes on her back. She looked down and only then noticed her bare feet. “Dang it! I left my shoes in the dressing room too.” She shoved the hair away from her face and looked to the back of the store, dreading having to watch Paul coming for her, dreading having to see that look on his face again. A rack of shoes stood near the wall

outside the dressing room and she literally ran to it, picked out the first pair of seven and a half sandals she found, and put them on. She handed the clerk the new tag. “These too, um . . . tambien. I’m wearing the shoes too.” The clerk seemed unsure, but put the tag in the pile with the others. They both looked back toward the dressing rooms and to Rhees’ relief, still no sign of Paul, but she was sure the clerk would rather see him coming out to save the day. “It’s all right—Esta bien. Mi esposo, my husband, he has money. Tengo—no, not tengo. Um, tiene, yeah, tiene dinero.” Rhees fumed at the double meaning of what she’d said. “Yeah, he has money,

lots of it.” She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been to not know that the man she’d married had millions. Her anxiousness continued to swing farther and farther toward anger. “He’s loaded!” she said a little too heatedly. At that moment, she noticed the display of bracelets on the counter and grabbed a handful of them, almost throwing them at the clerk. “These too— Tambien!” That felt good. “In fact . . .” She stomped over to one of the racks and started rifling through the clothes for more to put on his tab. It had only been a few minutes since

she’d walked out on him, and she knew he would emerge any second. The thought of facing him still seemed too much to have to deal with. She wasn’t ready. She looked at the rack of clothing and grabbed an armful, as many things as she could carry. She threw them on the counter like she had the bracelets. “Tambien!” Rhees ignored the nervous look on the girl’s face and looked back toward the bar on the other side of the street. She couldn’t help herself any longer. She grabbed the handle on the door and with a shaky voice, tried to explain to the clerk again, “Mi esposo, tiene mucho dinero.” Rhees felt bad that the clerk seemed

scared, almost panicked about the situation. She thought the girl seemed too young and timid to be left alone, the only employee in the store, but Rhees knew Paul would make it right. He’ll give her a large tip too, knowing him. She pointed to the dressing rooms one more time. “I’ll be at the bar.” She pointed across the street. “Alli—or is it alla? Ugh!” She groaned at her inability to speak Spanish. “My husband will pay for it. He’s loaded,” she said, and walked out. She felt much better as soon as she walked into the bar. She convinced herself she’d found a suitable

compromise. She’d run away after all, but not too far. oOo “She promised,” Paul mumbled when Rhees ran out of the dressing room, but he didn’t blame her. She was a runner and he was a terrible person, worth running from. He didn’t move. He knew he didn’t have long, but he needed every second he could squeeze out of the moment, to pull himself together, and then he’d have to go try and pull Rhees together. “Señor?” The clerk tapped timidly on the door. “Un momento.” He didn’t care about

sounding gruff with her. “Señor.” The girl sounded nervous, almost frantic. She told him, in Spanish, how his wife had said he would pay for the clothes she wore out. The girl wanted him to verify that he would. “Yes. Si,” he answered. He heard the girl’s footsteps head away, and he closed his eyes, relieved that he didn’t have to open the door just yet. His eyes flew open. “The clothes she wore out? Aw shit!” He jumped to his feet and almost broke the door, trying to get out of the dressing room. “Rhees!” The clerk stared at him with fear in her eyes. “Se fue,” she said nervously.

“Where’d she go?” he bellowed. The girl explained how Rhees had left the store and ran to the bar on the other side of the street. Paul rushed to the door, spotted the bar and was about to run out, but the girl called to him in a desperate plea. “Señor, usted dijo que pagaría por la ropa!” “Pay for clothes? What clothes?” he barked. “Que ropa?” The girl’s face flushed as she pointed to the tags and the large pile of clothes on the counter. She looked frightened, and he felt bad since she’d tried to avoid this very scenario. “My wife wanted all of that?” He

repeated what he’d said again, but in Spanish. Rhees hated spending money so he had trouble believing she’d want everything before his eyes. “Ella dijo . . . he’s loaded.” She spoke the English words slowly, making sure to repeat them correctly. Paul closed his eyes and let out a long sigh before a wide smile spread across his face. He broke into a loud laugh, understanding what Rhees had done. He asked the clerk if his wife would be safe at the bar and she assured him that she and her friends stopped in there often, after work. Paul relaxed, figuring that if a timid girl like her wasn’t afraid to hang out

there, Rhees would be all right for a few more minutes. He motioned for the girl to proceed with ringing up the clothes. He glanced back toward the bar every few seconds to make sure Rhees didn’t get away and hadn’t really paid attention to the items the girl was charging him for until one shirt caught his eye. The blouse the girl held looked about twenty sizes too big for his Rhees, and he’d never seen her wear such bold, hideous colors. “My wife has better taste than that.” He asked the girl if she was sure Rhees had picked it out. The clerk shrugged her shoulders. Again, she seemed nervous and took a minute to respond. Paul grew

increasingly frustrated with her tentativeness when he was so anxious to get to the bar so he could drag Rhees out of there—by her hair, caveman-style if necessary. He resorted to what he knew worked. He placed his hands on the counter and leaned toward the girl with a warm smile. She was young and pretty, but Paul felt no attraction to her. He wanted nothing more than her cooperation. She backed away, but when she finally got a good look at his eyes, she blushed, and smiled back. After a little more prodding, she described Rhees’ behavior, explaining how she hadn’t even looked at the things she threw on

the counter. “Okay.” Paul rattled his head with another chuckle and continued in Spanish, “Go ahead and ring it all up, every single item. This is going to be fun.” The girl nodded, as though she was in on his game. Paul wasn’t sure she really was and he didn’t want to explain it any further. “Esta bien,” he said, waving his hand toward the merchandise and she proceeded to do her job. He raised his eyebrows at several of the items. Some were just so not attractive, but they made him laugh all the more. He noticed the tags on the counter and picked them up,

curiously. The girl explained how Rhees had worn some of the store’s clothes out when she’d left, declaring that her husband would pay for them. “Hmm . . . un momento, por favor? He walked back to the dressing room. A pang of remorse washed over him again as he took another look around the stall. He finally picked up Rhees’ scrubs and tossed them into the trash can. He couldn’t undo what he’d done, he had no choice but to suck it up and move on. He picked up her purse and shoes, and grabbed all the clothes that Rhees had picked out to try on, and carried them to the counter. “Estos tambien, todos ellas,” he said

with a halfhearted smile. The girl thought he was smiling at her and she smiled back, no longer acting nervous and frightened, but more like a giggly schoolgirl with a crush. It helped his cause, but it annoyed him, making him feel even more like the antihero. oOo Paul walked into the bar carrying three large bags, full of clothing. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark room, but he finally spotted Rhees sitting at a booth against the wall on the right. Several men in the bar watched, with disappointment, when they saw the look on her face as he walked over to her

table and sat down. Paul was sure their hopes of swooping in and getting lucky with the cute, inebriated young woman were dashed. He slipped into the round booth and scooted close to her, setting the bags on the seat to his left. After a pause, he finally dared to look at her. “Sorry,” she said, eyeing the bags. She grabbed a shot glass on the table, tossing the contents down her throat. She cringed and stuck out her tongue at the burn. He too glanced at the bags and grinned. “For future reference, a three hundred-dollar shopping spree won’t really make a dent in our pocketbook.”

She raised an eyebrow at his use of the words, future and our, and played along with new hope. “Okay, so next time I should buy a Ferrari?” “Closer . . . but no. I had one of those. I also had an Aston Martin, and a Koenigsegg, to name a couple—all in my former life.” “I have no idea what those even are.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “Just cars. And that was kind of the point, with the Koenigsegg, anyway. It irritated my dad that I’d pay so much money for a car no one had ever heard of. Very few people know what they are, and dad thought the money would be

better spent on a more recognizable status symbol.” Paul smirked at the memory. “But I’m no longer earning millions every year, so if you were to buy one now, we might notice. Well, probably not.” “We might notice?” She emphasized the word we. At first he mistook her bewildered expression to mean that she wasn’t familiar with the car, or its price tag, but he finally realized she was fishing for a confirmation about them. He cast his eyes down, feeling miserable for hurting her. There were so many things wrong with what had happened. “Yes. We would still be financially

sound.” He looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of something to help her put it into perspective. “A private jet—if you were to buy a private jet—let’s say, anything more than a six-seater, we’d probably notice that. I’d have to rearrange, liquidate an investment or two.” “A private jet.” She stared off at nothing, thinking about it. “Huh.” Paul noticed what she had on the table in front of her. He stared at her neatly lined row of guaranteed memory loss. Three shot glasses and three beers alternated evenly, starting with a shot, and ending with a beer. The first and second shots were empty as well as the

first beer in the line, but she hadn’t started on her second beer, yet. She caught him eyeing her strategy and dared him to say something about it. When he didn’t, she grabbed the second beer and chugged down half the bottle. “Tequila and beer?” he asked, trying not to sound too concerned. “Uh-huh. I had one of Taye’s Iced Teas, first.” He whistled through his teeth. “That ought to do it.” He looked down and closed his eyes. He licked and pressed his lips together a few times. “Do what?” “Make you forget.” “That’s what I thought, but it isn’t

working.” He looked at his watch. “Give it a minute.” He tried not to smirk. They sat in silence for a few minutes. “Rhees. I am so very sorry.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “But, I am.” He frowned. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” She shot him a cold glare, picked up the unfinished beer and guzzled down the remaining half. She slammed the empty bottle onto the table, a little too forcefully, making everyone in the bar turn to look at the foreigners visiting their bar. When they didn’t give their spectators anything to see, everyone turned back to their own business.

“I’m the one who needs to be sorry,” Rhees said quietly. Paul reached for the last shot of tequila and tossed it back. “Hey! Get your own.” “You’ll thank me later, I promise.” He leaned back in the seat and put his arm across her shoulders. She didn’t protest. She reached for the last bottle of beer and pulled it to her mouth, but before she could take a drink, he took it away from her and downed the whole bottle. Rhees pursed her lips into a pout but didn’t say anything. Her head had started to feel light, and she knew he’d just done her a favor. She leaned into him and

rested her head on his shoulder. He tightened his hold, pulling her even closer. Neither of them said anything for a while, again. They sat and watched the men playing pool on the other side of the room until Rhees broke the silence. “I just want to go home and pretend like none of this ever happened.” Her eyes filled with tears. “No. Baby, don’t say that . . . please! Give me a chance to work this out. Don’t run home to Utah—I’ll work this out. I will, I promise.” His voice was raw and desperate. “Utah. Is not. My home!” she said. “The shop! I was talking about the shop. I just want to go home, to the shop.” She

took a second to keep from crying. “I want to go home and pretend—act like . . .” Her voice tapered off and she gulped in a few breaths. “Pretend like we didn’t screw everything up by falling in love.” She buried her face into his shoulder and he squeezed her to him, rubbing her back, smoothing her hair, and kissing the top of her head— touching her—so very grateful his actions hadn’t catapulted her back into the untouchable zone. “Yeah, we can do that.” Her idea sounded as good as anything he’d come up with so far. “Good . . . but we’d better hurry.” Her head still rested on his shoulder, as

relaxed as he’d ever seen her. “Cause, I’m gonna be sick.” He got her outside to the gutter in time, barely. oOo Paul tore a hundred dollar bill in two, and handed one piece to the taxi driver. “I’ll give you the other half if you’ll wait here for me and keep an eye on my wife,” he said in Spanish as he got out of the car in front of the familiar building. He’d wanted to do this since the hijacking, but never had the chance. Rhees slept soundly in the backseat, and the driver checked them both over as if thinking Paul might be trying to ditch

her. The amount of money won over any reservation he may have had, and he nodded his agreement. When Paul came out of the jeweler’s, the very store where he’d bought their first wedding rings, he climbed into the taxi and situated Rhees so her head rested on his lap. Once they were on their way to the coastal city where they could catch the ferry, Paul slipped a ring onto her wedding finger, and held his left hand next to hers, admiring what he saw. The jeweler had done a remarkable job of replicating both rings, identical to the ones they’d lost. ‘We’re really married now’, her

declaration rang in his mind, and he couldn’t help his smile. That was the one bright, shining side of all the regrets weighing on him about how it happened. He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her lips to seal the deal, even if she was unconscious.

Chapter 16 he next morning, Rhees woke up alone in her own bed. The devastation of waking up alone eclipsed the disorientation she felt at not remembering how she got

there. She almost cried but her pounding head wouldn’t allow it. Her neck hurt and her mouth tasted like something vile had climbed inside and died, but she mused at how, though she felt a little nausea, she didn’t need to throw up. “Hmm, looks like I can finally take down the ‘Drinker in Training’ sign,” she mumbled. She rolled out of bed, but her hand snagged on the sheet, bringing her eyes to the huge ring on her finger. She closed her eyes, trying to remember how it had gotten there, but she had nothing. She thought about TV shows she’d heard people talking about, and almost laughed

T

to herself. The idea that it had all been just a dream, everything from the hijacking, to running away from the dressing room, and Paul, it all got blurry after that, but she remembered enough to wish it really had been a dream. It still didn’t explain where Paul was now, or how her ring happened to be back on her finger, as if it had never been removed. She stared at it while she brushed her teeth. “How did he do that?” she mumbled. “After what I did— Why?” “What was that?” Paul’s rich voice quickened every cell of her body as he appeared at the doorway, shirtless, and holding two cups of coffee. Her eyes

darted quickly to his ring finger and she almost cried at the sight of his own ring in place. She looked up at him, consoled that he hadn’t left her after all, but so confused. He’d left the top two buttons of his jeans undone, and she noticed they weren’t the same jeans he’d worn when they’d . . . she blushed and glanced down, wondering what he thought about it now, after a good night’s sleep. She hoped he’d had a good night’s sleep. “Think you can hold this down?” He raised one of the coffees, offering it to her. She could tell his mood wasn’t the best, but she still had to fight off the

happy sob of relief she felt at seeing him. As soon as she took the offered cup, he moved to the twin bed and lowered himself down, diagonally, half laying, half sitting, leaning against the wall behind him. He watched her with stoic eyes for a few seconds before taking a sip of his coffee. Rhees sat on the edge of their bed and watched him, expecting him to tell her what was on his mind. He never did, and she would have normally taken that as a good sign, but her gut said otherwise. “I’m sorry.” She hung her head, beating him to the punch before he had a chance to swing one. It still took him a

minute to answer. “What the fuck do you have to be sorry for?” he finally asked. His tone remained very calm, even though he swore, a warning that he wasn’t as calm as he pretended to be. “I still remember. I guess tequila doesn’t work retroactively. I should have started before—” Her voice caught guiltily, knowing she’d tried. “Huh.” He took another sip of his coffee and stared at the hot brown liquid. “You’d think the vodka you had before would’ve done the trick.” Her eyes shot up to meet his. He knew. “No,” she started to defend herself

but he cut her off before giving her a chance to explain. “Yeah, it’s the funniest story.” He didn’t sound like he thought it was very funny. “I got you into bed and started hanging the new clothes. I’d forgotten I’d stuck your new purse in one of the shopping bags, so imagine my surprise when I pulled out a dress and the purse fell out, opened up, and spilled its contents onto the floor.” She closed her eyes. “Vodka mini-bottles, two of them empty, and a tube of personal lubricant.” His expression didn’t give much away. “It was only one and a half empty bottles—no—one and a quarter—not

even that—a sip.” She knew she was trying too hard to explain how little she’d drank and it only made her look more guilty. “I can explain.” “Really?” he scoffed. “You can explain why you would, one; try to get drunk in order to stand me touching you, even after I told you how wretched that would make me feel? And two; use artificial lube after I told you how important it was to me to be able to tell I wasn’t pushing you too fast—because I would feel wretched if I pushed you?” He stared off into the corner of the room and took another deceptively calm sip from his cup. “I wasn’t drunk! I just wanted to be

able to relax—and I didn’t use the lube. I felt so bad after drinking the first bottle of vodka—I took one sip from the second bottle and changed my mind—I couldn’t—I felt so bad, I forgot all about the lube. I didn’t—” He cut her off as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “I didn’t get any sleep last night. I sat here on this bed, watching you, and thinking.” “Paul, it’s not—” “It’s not what? You didn’t wait for me to tell you what I came up with, after spending all night, thinking. Though, I’m not as good at that as I’m supposed to

be.” She squirmed. “I know what it looks like, but . . .” He sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands wrapped around the mug and he stared at it. He couldn’t help the grin on his face, a sad one, but it struck him funny to know that no expression could ever come close to revealing what he felt inside. He had been thinking all night, thinking about what Keene had said about rape fantasy in some victims of child sexual abuse. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. “I wondered how, in high school,

when you were hanging out with friends who were so straight-arrow that they wouldn’t even watch a PG-13 movie, how you ended up with someone like Roney? You said you knew he had a reputation, and yet, you ended up with him, not one of those straight-arrow puds.” Paul paused, as if just then receiving another revelation, but Rhees knew the revelation had come during the night, as he’d pointed out, twice. “Have you noticed any similarities between Roney . . . and me?” Rhees watched him with dread, not following his line of questioning, but knowing it couldn’t be good. He continued to pretend that the

situation was comical. It was anything but, and he knew it, so did she. “Did you notice any resemblance between the dressing room where we —where I—” His façade started to crack. He no longer pulled off cool as well as he’d previously been able to, and the edge in his voice made her worry. “I did happen to find the oddest relationship between the dressing room —” He choked up. His eyes grew shiny and sad, but he blinked through it, and cleared his throat. “—And the bathroom where you were assaulted?” Rhees sat listening, unable to move, or speak anymore. “You’ve always acted like you

believed I could do no wrong. I’ve hated it, but I’ve loved it, too. I wanted to believe you. I did, actually—here and there—I tried to.” He exhaled. “But you did have expectations of me, just like everyone else, my parents—oh, wait! I may be wrong about that—you didn’t expect one ounce more from me than I was able to give—you only wanted exactly what you knew I was capable of.” She drew in a breath as though she wanted to speak but nothing came out. He let out a contemptuous laugh. “I’ve only just now, realized how you’re more like me than I ever imagined possible. I go for what I want,

damn the consequences.” His brow set rigid above his icy blue, piercing eyes. “But at least I’m honest about it! “So, back to the dressing room and bathroom similarities. The only things missing yesterday were the fixtures—no bathtub, no toilet—but same everything else. Same size, same filth.” He bore his gaze into her. “Same kind of predator.” Paul stood and set his empty cup on the desk attached to the wall. He stared at it for a moment. “Glad I didn’t disappoint you.” With that, he slipped into his flip flops, turned, and threw on a T-shirt as he walked out the door. oOo

Claire locked her apartment and headed to the shop. Dobbs was already there, and had been the last forty-five minutes, with Mitch, getting the morning routine started. In the past, she’d never wanted to get there so early, but with the newlywed owners supposedly on their honeymoon, she and Dobbs had been running the shop with extra care the last two and a half weeks. Everyone else at the shop believed the Weavers really were on their honeymoon, but Claire and Dobbs knew the truth. It felt good to know they could help, and that Paul trusted them to take care of things for such an extended period of time. It also reinforced her belief that

someday the Dobbsons could run a shop of their own. Now if they could just manage to save enough money to buy one. The idea had actually become more promising since the night Dobbs clobbered the boss. Informing Paul about Dodger defaulting on their agreement had turned into a good thing for them. Paul had since increased their already more than fair wages, and even offered to give them a low interest loan when the time came, if they’d promise to stick around and help him for at least two more years. She walked past Paul’s door at the end of the row of apartments, just before

the stairs, and like so many times before, wondered why he bothered to keep it. It was early March. He hadn’t slept in his own bed since May, almost a year. He claimed his things took up too much room, and would clutter Rhees’ nice apartment, but also that showering and dressing at his own place made things a little easier. They were married now. He wouldn’t need to work so hard to keep from thinking about Rhees’ naked body in the shower anymore. The thought of how Paul, of all people, had ended up the guardian of Rhees’ virginity, and imagining how the job must have tortured him, made her laugh. Couldn’t

have happened to a more deserving man. It had been an amusing year. She reached the stairs but stopped. She had to take a second to think, backed up a few steps, and looked inside Paul’s window, the open window that wasn’t open when she’d walked by the night before. “Paul?” She saw him through the glass, lying on the couch, his arm over his eyes. He looked to be asleep. “Paul!” He finally turned his head to see her at his window. It seemed to annoy him to have to acknowledge her. “What are you doing back? You shouldn’t be back for four more days,” she said through the screen. “Where’s

Rhees? oOo “Where’s Rhees?” Claire’s voice almost shrieked in panic as soon as Paul opened the door and she looked around, verifying that Rhees wasn’t there. He didn’t bother to look at her, but returned to the couch and sat on the edge with his elbows on his knees. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, no. She’s relapsed. You said she was doing better the last time you called, but she’s back in the mental ward at the hospital, isn’t she? Oh, that poor girl!” Claire grew sick at the thought.

“No,” Paul said in a detached tone, a little too detached. “She’s at Oceanside.” Claire stood, stunned. “Rhees is fine.” Paul leaned back against the couch in a defeated manner. “Fine?” Claire said, incredulously. “She had a mental breakdown and was admitted into a bloody psychiatric ward of a bloody hospital, just days ago.” “It’s been two and a half weeks.” “Okay,” Claire said slowly, glaring at him. “Two and a half weeks ago— days for this sort of thing. So why is she at Oceanside and you—why are you here?” “It’s none of your business.” Paul

glared back. Claire watched him, warily, the concern gradually taking over her expression. “You two fighting, already?” She thought it through, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. “What could you possibly be fighting about, so soon after what she’s been through?” He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her. His expression revealed dark and angry, and he didn’t try to hide it from her. “Paul? I’ve watched you with her. I know you two make sport of getting a rise out of each other, but . . .” Claire had to think of what she was trying to say, hoping it wasn’t as serious as it

looked. “What could possibly be so bad, after all that’s happened to her, that you can’t bring yourself to be with her, so soon after she—” “You’re right,” he sighed. His mouth pinched into a hard line, and his nose scrunched up, obviously angry about something, at himself. Claire continued to watch as he stood and walked to the door. He ushered her out, put the padlock in place, and headed off in the direction of Oceanside. oOo Paul stood at the door of Rhees’ apartment for a second to gather his thoughts, steel himself. He walked in and

turned to look into the bedroom. He swore before dashing to the kitchen where he grabbed some towels and raced back. Rhees sat on the edge of the bed, just as she had when he’d walked out less than thirty minutes before. She barely seemed to notice as he knelt on the floor and started wiping up the coffee and broken pieces of ceramic from the mug she’d apparently dropped. When he noticed blood, he looked for the source and found a good-sized shard protruding from the side of her foot. He sighed. He stood and headed to her medicine cabinet to retrieve the first aid kit he’d bought for her the last time

they needed some antiseptic and a band aid she didn’t have. With the mess cleaned, and her wound dressed, he held his hand out to her. She looked up, a glint of hope in her eyes, and it stung his heart. He understood how she thought he was going to take her hand and pull her up to him, but instead, he angled his hand to show her the two pain relievers he wanted her to swallow for her hangover. He sat down next to her but neither of them said anything for a while. Paul finally cleared his throat. “I got up early this morning, since I couldn’t sleep. I went for a run to clear my head, showered at my place.” He

paused to get the words right. “Then I called Keene from the office. He chewed me out for calling so early, but after I voiced my concerns—I want to send you to Texas—” “No! I don’t want to leave.” She’d obviously snapped out of her trance-like state. “You need help.” “No!” “Rhees!” He didn’t mean to snarl. He reeled in his tone, aware of his conflicting emotions, but unable to make sense of them. “You need help, and it’s going to take time. You need more help, and time, than I originally wanted to believe.”

“You just want to get rid of me.” He didn’t put up an argument. They sat quietly again, only this time, she didn’t take her eyes off him. “Paul, please.” She tried to put her arms around him, but he blocked her by grabbing her hands and holding them on his lap. There was no affection in the gesture—his evasive skills toward women had just been honed to perfection over the years. He thought about the time she’d called him the epitome. How creative. He’d been persuasive, persistent, but she’d cut him down effectively. He thought again how she’d spent her whole life perfecting the art of shutting men down. He understood. He

too had perfected the art of keeping women away, the ones he didn’t want. “I promised to love you and take care of you until I die. I keep my promises. I love you, I always will. I can’t help it . . . but right now, I don’t like you very much.” He closed his eyes and blew out a long gust of air, and then he growled a few times because of the guilt that sat on his chest, making it nearly impossible to get enough air into his lungs. “No—that’s not true.” “Let me guess. It’s yourself you don’t like.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She knew him. “You never do.”

“Sorry, but your, I could never think anything bad about you, Paul, act isn’t very convincing at the moment. I don’t know how I never figured it out. How’d I not get the hint when you called me the epitome—” “You know I didn’t mean that,” she snapped, the volume of her voice on the rise. “You had me thinking about sex, that I might want it, with you. It was a defense mechanism. I had to make you stop. Now, you know why I would have said anything at that moment. I couldn’t let those memories come rushing back to me. But I’m glad it’s in the open now, getting it all out has been a good thing.” She hung her head again and said the rest

in a whisper, “At least, I thought so, until —” “I don’t blame you for what happened yesterday. It’s not your fault. I, on the other hand.” He paused. His mouth shifted through a few motions. “I was just being me.” Paul had to turn his head to keep from giving in to his need to comfort and protect her. The look on her face, he couldn’t handle seeing her so broken anymore, finally understanding just how broken she was. After the hijacking, all through the hysterical outburst, her catatonia, what he thought was her healing process—he’d hung on—barely, and only because he loved her, and he’d

believed she loved him. He’d never thought she should, but he’d basked in her love, feeling as though he could do anything, overcome anything because of it. “I knew what I was doing,” she said. “It wasn’t you.” “No. You didn’t. You just knew what I was—am. So you should also know I can’t take care of you. You need help— help that I can’t give you. We need to get you functioning again.” At first, he thought she let out another sob but he realized it was a derisive laugh. He looked back again to make sure. “Functioning?” she said a little too

loudly and she laughed again. Her whole demeanor changed. She stood and faced him as she started her tirade, the sound level of her voice growing increasingly loud and bold. “I’m the queen of functioning! I’ve been doing it since I was five. I don’t have to go to Texas and have a million sad-sobbing sessions with Keene to get myself functioning.” She stomped to the clothes bar in the far corner; the whole third level apartment vibrated with each footstep. She began rifling emphatically through the new clothes Paul had hung the night before. “What are you doing?” Paul bellowed.

She lifted the hanger with the hideous triple X sized shirt off the bar and gave it a quizzical look. She turned to him, with the shirt in her hand. “I’m functioning!” she yelled back, but then gave the shirt one more confused glance. She took it off its hanger and threw it onto the twin bed as her eyes lifted and went toward the open door of the room. Paul snapped his head around to see what had caught her eye. Tracy and Regina froze—caught trying to sneak out. “We’re leaving you two to your private parts,” Regina said. “She means, we’re leaving so you can have your privacy,” Tracy corrected

and then added thoughtfully, and with great concern, “but you guys are newlyweds, you shouldn’t be fighting already. I know you love each—” Regina interrupted her by pushing her out the door. “We’ll be leaving you two to your private parts—I mean privacy.” Regina gave Paul a sad, understanding look, probably meant to show her support, but it made him look down in disgrace. “That’s just great!” he said under his breath. “Now the whole island is going to know.” Rhees didn’t seem to hear and he watched her resume getting ready to function. She grabbed the coral bikini

with the lacy cream-colored camisole and put it on, right in front of him. He had the urge to jump up and take her in his arms, make her settle down, but he looked away instead. She stormed into the bathroom and brusquely put her hair up into a messy . . . sexy bun. “This is not what I meant,” he finally barked, having seen enough of her little tantrum, stomping around, making her boobs bounce around. He couldn’t help but wonder if she did it on purpose, he normally wouldn’t think so, but now, he wasn’t sure. She came out of the bathroom, ignoring him, and began rummaging through her old backpack, because the

new one she’d bought for the honeymoon had been taken by the hijackers. She sorted through the things she’d left in the pack from the last time she’d used it, and then, in a very business-like manner, looked around the room for the things she’d need for the day. “I know exactly what you meant,” she said without a break in loading up her pack. “As soon as you’re comfortable that I can function, you’ll throw a crapload of money into my account, and then—and then,” her voice broke, “you’ll be free to divorce me.” It cracked again. “No broken promises, no guilty conscience.” She finally stopped and stared

blankly at the contents of her pack. It bulged at the seams, full of unnecessary items. oOo Paul had watched her bustling about the apartment, listening to her, trying to understand what she was saying. She’d shocked him. He’d never thought about it that way, but since she’d brought it up, he wondered if she might be right. He actually wasn’t sure. He stopped trying —he couldn’t allow himself to think about it right then. He also tried to understand why she needed three changes of clothes for one day at the shop, including the hideous,

too large shirt, the remote for the apartment’s tiny television, and the heavy door stop they used to hold the front door open when they were home. “If you send me away, it’ll only make it that much easier for you to—” She paused to stare at her backpack and sounded like she lost her place in the conversation, but only for a second. “I will not help you with that.” She finally turned to face him. “I’m not going to Utah. I’m not going to Texas. I’m not going anywhere but to the shop. Our shop! It’s half mine now, and I’m not walking away without a fight. So remember, if you want a divorce—you always say I’m tough as

nails. Well, just try to divorce me and you’ll see how tough I can be.” With that, she hefted her loaded backpack over her shoulder, turned and let the screen door slam on her way out. oOo Paul wasn’t too far behind Rhees, but he didn’t try to catch up. Confusion wracked his brain, no, his heart—both. His whole being felt ripped and raw, an ache he wasn’t familiar with and couldn’t stop. He’d given up on ridiculous delusions of love and relationships. His parents’ example had left him believing love was nothing but a myth. All the

times he’d had to listen to them entertain guests with their romantic love story, the exhaustive effort to put forth the illusion they were the perfect family, but he knew what went on behind the scenes. How did I get here? How did I wind up married? He knew the answer. Turned out love was real after all. His feelings proved it. The marriage element of the situation didn’t confuse him. It was more the way he’d gotten there, all the energy, the internal conflict . . . the hope. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel that kind of hope since he was a kid. How the hell did I allow myself to hope again?

And again, here he was, feeling betrayed. He should have known better —how did he not know better? Despite what he deemed her breach of trust, he wanted to catch up to her, take her in his arms and never let go. The conflict raging inside made him queasy. He hated betrayal. The disenchantment made him angry and made him wish he’d done things differently, but still, he couldn’t turn it off. He was the excessive man. Gambling, smoking, drugs, sex—go big or go home—he never did anything halfway, and yet, none of those, the most addicting vices known to man, had brought him down. He’d quit them all

with nothing more than the decision to do so. But now there was Rhees. From the moment she’d kissed him at Rays, she’d been an addiction. It didn’t matter how many times he’d told himself to give it up, walk away—let her walk away. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t just kick a habit simply because he’d decided he should. It would be for the best, so he didn’t understand why he couldn’t just quit—quit wanting her, needing her. oOo As they neared the shop, he realized he didn’t want to be bombarded with

questions. “Rhees! Hold up.” She turned. She wasn’t surprised to see him behind her, but the hopeful look on her face as he ran to catch up made him feel even more like a heel. She waited expectantly to see what he wanted—so trusting. “I don’t know what kind of damage control we’re going to have to deal with after Tracy—if we don’t show up together, everyone will start asking questions.” Yeah, he was a prick. “Okay. You’re right.” He looked away. The pain in her eyes was too much, but he had to stay strong. It was for the best. He needed to

stay focused on his anger. He scowled at himself and took her by the hand. God, it felt good to touch her.

Chapter 17 hees did an amazing job pretending that day. Paul played his part too. They fooled everyone, except Tracy and Regina, maybe Claire. Everyone knew

about the hijacking, but no one, except Claire and Dobbs, knew about Rhees’ revelation and breakdown. The Dobbsons had already spread the word that, because of the hijacking, the newlyweds had cancelled their trip to the Great Barrier Reef, deciding to spend their honeymoon at the capital instead. No one questioned the story, and now that they’d returned, everyone seemed to buy that they were simply too tired and too busy playing catch up after their long absence, to act the newlywed part with each other. At least they hoped everyone would believe it, knowing that with Tracy around, it was only a matter

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of time before everyone knew the honeymoon was over, figuratively, as well as literally. Paul had finally put the schedule up on the board for the day, and Rhees felt more than ready for the last few people to leave so she could let down and stop all the pretending. Claire finally left too. She’d been giving Rhees strange looks all day, but thankfully, she never did ask any questions. Rhees loved Claire all the more for it. Christian walked into the office. “Bet you’re hungry, eh?” “Hey, Christian.” “Ready to go?” he asked.

Rhees turned to look at him. It was such a simple question, but the way he asked sounded strange. “Yeah. It’s been a long day. I think it’ll take a few days to get back into the swing of things.” She grabbed her overstuffed backpack and remembered the circumstances under which she’d packed it. She frowned and then heaved it over her shoulder. When she turned to leave the office, Christian still stood there, acting expectant. “Do you need something?” “Just waiting for you.” “Um . . .” She wondered if she’d forgotten something that she shouldn’t have. Something like making plans that

she knew she didn’t really make, but he obviously thought she had. “What’s up, Christian?” “Nothing. Just waiting for you.” Now he looked confused too. “Why?” “Paul asked me to have dinner with you. He has a council meeting tonight. He said you knew.” “Oh!” She pretended to suddenly remember. “Yeah, that’s right.” They walked out of the office and she turned to lock the door. “That knapsack looks heavy. Want me to carry it for you?” “I got it. Thanks.” Christian followed her around the

shop as she closed the shutters and locked all the doors. She wanted to break down, but she couldn’t, not with Christian on her heels. She felt betrayed and brokenhearted by Paul’s maneuver, and of course, he was nowhere to be found. “Where do you want to eat?” Christian attempted to make small talk as they hit the street and headed south. The pit in her stomach made her want to puke. There was no way she was going to hold food down. “I’ve been gone a long time. I could do anything. You choose.” “Have you tried the falafel and pita sandwich at Abu’s?”

“Only once, sounds great,” she had to lie. Rhees did her best to pretend to eat. The falafel had tasted better the first time she ate at Abu’s. She was sure it still tasted good, she just couldn’t tell because of the bile trying to work its way up. Christian’s phone rang. He answered and then gave her a strange look just before he covered the phone with his hand and excused himself to walk far enough away to carry on a private conversation. oOo “Are you a hundred percent, or are

you more . . . bi?” Paul waited for Christian to answer. “What?” Christian sounded shocked. “I need to know!” Paul licked his lips, agitated and worried, when Christian didn’t answer right away. “A hundred percent,” Christian finally answered, dryly. “Why?” “Good.” Paul didn’t hide his relief. He’d been in hell over what he was doing. Not only was he taking advantage of Christian’s friendship with Rhees, he also took advantage of Rhees’ empathy. She’d never hurt her friend’s feelings. “The meeting is going to run long, and I want to take these guys out drinking as an excuse to have more time to talk to

them. “They’re set in their ways. You know, they don’t understand that the diving brings a lot more money to the island than fishing. I’m trying to convince them that by designating the dive sites around the island a Marine Park, the tourism will be much better for the economy.” Paul didn’t lie, completely. He’d been having the same argument with the other local council members since he’d been elected to sit on the board. He just didn’t really have a council meeting that night. “Sure, make ‘em understand, eh? I get it.” Christian was on Paul’s side. “Okay, that’s good,” Paul said. “I

need a favor.” “Sure. Anything I can do to help.” “I need you to stay with Rhees tonight. You know, after the hijacking and all, she’s been a little upset—more than she would probably ever let on. I don’t want her to be alone, but I don’t know how long this will take. It’ll be late. I’ll just go to my apartment when I’m done so I don’t wake her. You know. It’ll be late, she needs rest. Stay with her, okay?” “Um . . . sure. I guess.” Christian didn’t sound convinced that it was a good idea. “Thanks. I would never ask if I didn’t think it was absolutely

necessary.” Paul held his breath. He needed Christian’s help. “Please, I don’t want her to have to spend the night alone. She’ll never admit it, but the hijacking really scared her.” “Oh! Sure. I’ll stay with her.” “Thanks. I’ll make it up to you, okay? I said I’d reimburse you the cost of dinner. I’ll give you more. I’ll settle up with you, make it worth your while, I promise.” “Don’t worry about it, eh? Glad I can help. Rhees is great. I’d do anything for her.” “Yeah,” Paul did his best to keep the remorse from his tone. “Thanks. You don’t know how much this helps, you

know, to not have to worry about her. I know she’s in good hands.” “Sure, glad I can help.” oOo Rhees climbed into bed after making sure Christian was comfortable on the twin bed in her room. “Make yourself at home,” she said, again. “This is the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping on, and these sheets feel so . . . luscious.” Christian’s tone revealed awe. “I’ll be great.” “Yeah, top of the line. Paul has weird issues about beds.” She only

managed a monotone response, wondering how she would make it through the whole night without breaking into sobs. That’s what she wanted to do —needed to do—but she couldn’t with Christian in the same room. She had no other choice but to let herself go numb. “He’s very particular,” she said, mindlessly, “and what Paul wants, Paul gets.” oOo Paul ran the phone conversation with Christian through his head, over and over again. He’d said he was a hundred percent. Paul tried to keep calm. He’d had a couple of beers, the only drink he

dared to have. He needed to keep his wits about him, as much as he needed to just get wasted, needed to forget, if only for the night. oOo Rhees loved Christian to death, but she was ready to scream by the time she ducked into the office the next morning. “Thanks, Christian. See you around.” “Sure, see you around.” She ran around the counter, set her pack down—she’d emptied it of all the unnecessary items the night before. She collapsed in the chair at her computer. It was a relief to know Claire hadn’t shown up yet. Once she collected her

nerves, she went in search of her AWOL husband. She found Paul on the deck changing the O-rings on a couple of the tanks. She folded her arms and waited for him to notice her—she knew he’d already noticed her. She waited for him to acknowledge that he had. He never did. He swore under his breath when one of the O-rings broke and he had to go into the equipment room for another. She followed, and cornered him. “We need to talk.” “Not now.” His impassive eyes seemed to see right through her when he finally looked up. “Not here. Not in public.” He turned his attention back to

the box with the extra O-rings. “Apparently, not in private either, so when? Where?” He shuffled past her and closed his eyes as his body brushed against hers. He squeezed by as quickly as he could make it happen. “I don’t know,” he answered and went back to work on the leaky tank. Rhees spent the day trying to get his attention while Paul spent the day trying to avoid giving it to her. oOo “Christian!” Paul slapped him on the back with a little too much enthusiasm. “I hate to ask again so soon, but, um . . .

Rick wants to meet tonight, have a few beers, and discuss an idea he has about scuttling an old boat off South Point. Think you can keep Rhees company again?” “Sure, but she wouldn’t want to join you, eh?” Christian gave him a skeptical look. “Sounds interesting, she isn’t interested?” Paul looked off, over the ocean. “Well, you know her. If I ask, she’s going to say yes, even though she’d rather not. She’d never admit it.” Paul turned his attention back to Christian with a serious expression. “She’s been under a lot of stress lately. I’d be willing to bet she was extra quiet last night, didn’t eat

much. She tried to put on a happy face, but I’m sure she didn’t fool you.” Christian seemed to understand. “Sure. That, she did.” Paul leaned into him. “See? I don’t want to be dragging her around with me, making her listen to me talk shop all night. Not after what she’s been through. Please?” “Sure.” Christian finally dropped the skeptical face he wore and smiled. “Thanks.” Paul slapped him on the back again and took off. oOo Rhees’ face flushed pale when Christian showed up in the office again

at closing time. “Remind me what he has tonight?” Christian looked sheepish. “Shop talk with Rick.” “That’s code for get drunk with an old whoring partner.” Her heart fluttered at the thought, but she managed a grim smile. “Where’d you like to eat tonight, eh?” Rhees sighed and looked out the window, thoughtfully. “You know what? I feel like partying.” She turned to her old dancing partner. “What do you say we just grab a few baleadas for dinner, go get cleaned up for a night on the town. I feel like dancing.”

Christian didn’t even try to hide his excitement. “I take that to mean it’s a plan?” she asked. Christian held his arm out to her like he was ready to escort her onto the dance floor. They danced all around the shop as Rhees locked up, and they laughed all the way to her apartment. “I’ll be back to pick you up in fortyfive minutes,” Christian said. Rhees feigned an annoyed sigh. “You’re such a diva, Christian. You take longer to get ready than I do. I’ll pick you up in twenty.” He feigned alarm. “I’d better hurry then! I’ll never get myself presentable

that fast.” He laughed and darted down the stairs. “See you soon. Ooo, I’m so excited.” As soon as Christian left, Rhees went to the clothes rack and pulled out the new brown dress. She studied it for a second, and then dug to the very back for her other dancing dress. She held them both up, trying to decide which one to wear. Paul always acted uncomfortable when she’d asked if he thought her bone white dress would be a good option for their evenings out, so she’d never worn the Costa Rica dress again. She didn’t want him beating himself up about what might have happened that night. She returned the brown dress to the

rack. By his absence, Paul had made the choice for her. He wouldn’t be seeing her wear the dress, so he wouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable about it. oOo Rhees strolled up to the bar at the Emerald Starfish, arm in arm with Christian. He ordered a beer. “I want a Long Island Iced Tea, double the ta-kill-ya, and use Coke Light,” she said to the bartender. The bartender seemed impressed. Christian seemed worried. “Paul wants me to keep an eye on you, not get you into trouble.” She gave him a dirty look with a

shake of her head. “No talking about Paul tonight. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” “I’m not worried about him getting hurt.” He gave her a wide-eyed look. “Then maybe you should just go home.” She didn’t mean to sound so curt, and she could tell she’d hurt Christian’s feelings. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” She smiled and bumped him with her shoulder. “Who would I dance with if you went home? You’re the best dancer on the island.” “No, you are! Now gulp that down and let’s go cut a rug.” She laughed at the expression. “Do Canadians say that? You sound like an

old western movie.” He shrugged and handed her drink to her. She guzzled several long gulps and set the glass back down on the bar. “I didn’t mean it literally. You’re going to get drunk.” “That’s what I’m going for.” She turned to the bartender. “Watch our drinks . . . and start making me another because this one’s about gone.” She swigged a couple more gulps, which almost finished it off, and then pulled Christian out onto the dance floor. oOo “I need the restroom!” Rhees yelled over the music to Christian. He nodded

and waved her off, but didn’t stop dancing. Rhees made her way to what she always thought was the most luxurious bathroom on the island, but just before she turned the corner, she stopped cold. Paul ambled along the path, headed to the bar—headed straight for her. Hands in pockets, he held his head down, staring at the ground. He looked sad, or angry, or both, and hadn’t seen her yet. A woman, a beautiful woman she’d never seen before, strolled at his side, jabbering at him as they walked. With his head down, it was hard to tell if he was listening or not. He definitely didn’t

speak back to her, but that was no surprise. They reached the bathroom and stopped. Paul opened the door and made a gesture with his hand to usher the strange woman inside. She went in, turned, and said something to him with a demure smile. Rhees’ mouth fell open as she stepped out from around the corner where she could be seen, trying to make sense of the horrible scene, sure that she’d already made sense of it, in spite of her alcohol impaired mind. Paul didn’t return the woman’s smile, but his face registered with curiosity at the way the woman looked to her left from inside the small room. He

turned his head to see what the woman was looking at. Rhees stood, gaping in shock, in horror, in pain. Paul reflected Rhees’ expression as if looking in a mirror. “Rhees?” He shut the door to the bathroom and almost hit the woman’s face, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What are you doing here? Where’s Christian?” Rhees didn’t answer. She spun around and marched back to the bar and downed the rest of her second drink before ordering another. “Double everything this time,” she growled to the bartender. By the time the bartender handed her the new drink, Paul had stepped up behind her, and grabbed

the drink away. “How many have you had?” “Someone stole my drink,” she yelled at the bartender, ignoring Paul. “Make me another!” “Cancel that,” Paul said. Rhees gave him a dirty look. Christian noticed she’d returned, that Paul was there, and made his way to the bar. “Paul. You’re here. How’d it go with Rick?” “You were supposed to make sure she ate food, got home, and had company so she wouldn’t cry all night.” “You didn’t say we couldn’t go out.” Christian looked like he didn’t like being put on the spot. “She wanted to go

out, and I took it as a good sign. She’s obviously feeling better.” “Take her home,” Paul growled. “Now.” Christian looked confused. “Why don’t you? You’re obviously done with your meeting.” Paul didn’t seem to know what to say. “Come on, Christian,” Rhees said. “Take me home, please?” “What’s this kerfuffle about?” Christian gave Paul a questioning look as Rhees pulled on him. The strange woman had come out of the bathroom by then, and Rhees gave her a dirty look before dragging

Christian away. A few steps away, Rhees stopped and watched to see which direction the woman would go. Sure enough, she walked up to the bar and stood next to Paul. He’d just finished off the tea he’d confiscated from her and slammed the glass down on the bar. “Rhees? Are you all right?” Christian’s concern showed. “I’ve never seen you so angry. You look like you could murder someone right now.” “That is exactly what I plan to do. See that skank making eyes at my husband?” Rhees started back toward the bar but Christian grabbed her arm. “Let go of me.” She struggled against him, but he

didn’t let go. “I told you I’m married. Leave me the fuck alone!” Paul boomed over the music. Rhees and Christian both looked to see Paul walk away from the woman. “Now we can go, eh?” Christian asked. oOo Two hours later, Paul reached for his phone on the coffee table in his apartment. “What is it now, Christian?” Paul’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat, hoping it wouldn’t happen again and give him away. Christian’s voice sounded muffled,

like he didn’t want to be heard by someone else in the room. “You lied to me, and I’m really pissed at you.” “Get in line.” Christian was silent for a moment. “I’m not going to be put in the middle of your marriage problems. I resent that you used me, and now Rhees is crying, has been since I got her home.” Paul sighed, loudly. “Climb into bed with her and put your arms around her.” “What the hell? Are you serious?” “She just needs a hug. Give her one.” “It’s not my job to hug your wife, or make her stop crying. You’re her husband. Get over here and hug her

yourself!” It was Paul’s turn to be silent. “Do you hear me? Get your arse here, now.” “I can’t. I’ll pay you to do it. I’ll make it worth your while.” “Oh, heavens to Betsy!” Christian cursed. “Rhees is my friend. I don’t know what’s going on . . . and I don’t want to know, but this is hooped. All the money in the world wouldn’t make me the one she needs.” He went quiet for such a long time, Paul worried. “Christian?” “I’m leaving.” “No. Stay. Please, don’t leave her alone. I said I’d make it right with you.”

“No, Paul. There is no making this right. This is your job. I can’t believe you think you can pay someone to do your job. I’m leaving.” “Give me ten minutes. I’m at my apartment.” “Five minutes.” “Five? I don’t think I can get there in five.” “I’m walking out of here in five minutes.” “I’m already out of my apartment, I’m locking the door, now, but I’m telling you, I can’t get there in five. Give me ten. Please don’t leave her alone when she’s like this.” “Seven,” Christian blurted out.

“Seven? I’ll take seven,” Paul huffed. He’d already reached the street and broke into a sprint. oOo Paul reached the stairs and flew up, three at a time, before bursting onto the porch just as Christian walked out the door. Christian looked at his watch. “Seven minutes and sixteen seconds,” he said. Paul bent forward and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. When he stood, he pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his pants pocket and tried to give it to Christian as they passed each other.

Christian stopped, looked at the money, scowled, and continued to walk by. “Christian.” Paul offered the money again. “I don’t want it.” Christian shook his head. “What happened, eh? Rhees deserves better than this. She deserves better.” “That’s what I keep telling her.” Paul tossed the money at Christian’s feet and walked to the door. He turned to give Christian one more look. Christian glanced down at the money, glanced back to Paul, and headed down the stairs without picking it up. Paul walked quietly into the

apartment unsure of what he’d find. Rhees lay on the bed, her back turned to him, and convulsed with the most miserable sobs he’d ever heard. “Aw jeez, Rhees.” His shirt and jeans were off in record time and he snuggled up next to her, pulling her in as close as he could get her. He brushed the hair away from her face and rested his cheek against hers. She continued to quiver and wail. “Shhh . . . I’m here now. Shhh . . .” he cooed. “Please don’t cry.” She put her hands over his, and the intensity of her bawling began to subside. “This is only temporary, isn’t it?”

she asked with a sniff. He didn’t answer for a few seconds. “I’m here, now. Maybe we can get some sleep tonight. I haven’t slept for two nights. You?” She sniffled again before she finally nodded. “Okay, sleep.”

Chapter 18 hees woke to Paul kissing her shoulder, the way he used to. She knew he was still asleep, mostly. She didn’t move, hoping the moment would last.

“Good morning,” she said when he stopped kissing her and got out of bed. “I need to get to the shop.” “Please, can we just talk?” She sat up and watched him moving around the room, gathering his clothes. He froze but didn’t look up. She took advantage of the pause. “I am so sorry for what I did,” her voice cracked. She didn’t know how to convey her sincerity properly. She knew she hadn’t done a very good job of it so far, an obvious fact, based on how angry he still was with her. “I’m sorry I drank more than you realized, but I wasn’t drunk. I’m sorry about the lubricant—I

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didn’t use it, and I’m sorry I acted so contrary, trying to work you up so you’d be—” She didn’t want to finish that sentence. He squirmed, his agitation on the rise, but he didn’t respond. “Paul. Please.” Her eyes filled with tears faster than they ever had. “Please, talk to me.” “You don’t understand.” “Help me, then. I want to understand so we can fix it.” “Fix it? Interesting you’d use those particular words.” He sat on the twin bed to put his feet into the legs of his pants. “I thought I had fixed it. I changed for you. I worked so hard to be the man

you needed me to be. I’d actually started to like myself, a little.” He stood and pulled his pants up, but then he paused. He pursed his mouth, staring off to the corner of the room. “I don’t know how I feel, knowing you didn’t want me to change. That you’d actually been counting on me all along, counting on me to rape you.” “No! Don’t say that!” she pled, despairingly. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry that you feel like I believed you were a rapist, or that I wanted you to be. I didn’t! You’re taking what Keene said, too literally. If I’d really wanted that—” She paused to think of how to put it into words.

“I didn’t want Creepy to rape me. Do you really think I wanted that?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, but he’d stopped getting dressed again, which meant he was at least listening. He sat back down on the twin. “Okay, and think about the way I was, after Mario. Do you honestly believe everything I went through was because I was disappointed? You think all the panic attacks and nightmares were really just some kind of disappointed tantrum because you stopped him and saved me?” Her question caught him off guard, but it only took a second to recover with a snide retort.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he hurled out scornfully. “How many times have you thrown that at me? Huh?” He changed his voice to mock what she’d said in the past. “‘Mario wanted to fuck me. Maybe he still does! Do you think the prison has a conjugal visiting program’?” “I’m sorry.” Paul was right, she had no defense to that, and the desolation she felt was crushing. “I didn’t want you to —I never once thought about it like that, ever. I just needed your help to push me, help me through my fear. If what you’re saying is true, then that means I wanted them to—I can’t even say it—would I have trouble just saying it if I really wanted it to happen?”

He leaned forward with a sigh and propped his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped so he could rest his face against his hands. His mouth remained hidden from her view but she knew what he was doing with it behind the shield. “Keene is wrong. I’ve been thinking about all of this since talking with him. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but I know with certainty, I did not want to be raped!” she sobbed. “I wanted you, Paul, but I was too scared to do it your way, and I’m so, so sorry, but I wanted you, my husband, the man I love. Not Mario, or Creepy, or Roney.”

Paul looked up at the mention of that name. He had a surprising desire to hear an explanation of that one too. She must have noticed. “I didn’t date Roney because I thought he was a rapist either. I liked that he didn’t fall in line like everyone else, and that is what attracted me to him. I was drawn to his confidence, his strength, both physically and emotionally —like my dad—like you. Apparently, I’m attracted to strong, silent, protective types—with a lot of testosterone—not wimps like Sean. “And you know Sean wasn’t a rapist, right?” she asked. “With Sean, I only convinced myself I could stand to

be married to him because he was so sweet—and sexless. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it did have to do with the safety factor, because it was all so nonthreatening for my state of mind at the time, but I was never attracted to him.” She looked down with a pained, repentant expression on her face. “I probably owe him an apology for that.” He chuckled. He didn’t mean to, it kind of ruined the whole angry, I’ve been wronged, mood he’d had going, but it was so like Rhees to feel the need to apologize. And for what, for not being attracted to a man who’d rejected her, for a stupid reason Paul didn’t comprehend? The idiot could have been

married to her by now, but he’d left her emotionally scarred instead. The pud has no idea that he missed the opportunity to wind up with the most perfect woman— His thoughts suddenly paused, stabbed again by the reminder of his broken, betrayed heart, the reminder that Rhees wasn’t the person she’d led him to believe in after all, just like his instincts had told him in the beginning. “And I didn’t want the monster you prefer to believe you are—” she kept going, making it easier to get his sulk back, “—to do it either. You are not that man, you are not a monster, and I’ve never once believed you were.”

His mouth twisted with distrust as he stared off into nothingness. “You don’t want to believe me because it might mean I’m right—” still going, “—that you’re not really as bad as you always want to believe you are. You’re not.” “Just stop.” He hated hearing her go on and on about what a saint he was in her eyes. He knew better now, she’d finally revealed that chink in her act, but she’d done an excellent job of confusing him, so convincing. He felt his heart wanting to believe her again. He couldn’t help himself. Great! Just great. I’m an idiot who’ll never learn.

“No, I won’t.” She hopped off the bed so she could stand, showing him a stronger version of herself. He stood too, to make sure he didn’t give her control over the situation, over him. “Paul. I never, ever made any connection between the dressing room and—” She paused again. A sob broke free and she covered her mouth, he thought, trying to pretend that she was really upset. “—The bathroom. I thought, if I could just get through it the first time—it worked. Paul, we tried it your way. All the times we tried to take it slow, didn’t. It only gave me too much time to panic. I wish we could have done it your way,

but I couldn’t. I’m sorry, but my way worked, just like I knew it would.” Full out crying now, she moved to rush him, touch him, but he took a step back and held his hands up as a barrier to her. She stopped cold and it broke his heart, all over again, to see the wounded look on her face. He turned so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at it, have it smashing his core to smithereens. “I’m tired of this conversation, this topic, this problem. I’m going to work.” “I’ll never hate you. I’ll never believe in that man, the one you want me to believe you are.” He rolled his eyes and headed toward the door while shrugging into his

T-shirt. “What’s wrong, Paul? You’re frustrated because you can’t convince me you’re worth hating?” Her lips quivered and she had to take a breath to say what came next. “I hate your parents for what they did to you! They never allowed you to feel worthy of their love, always pushing for more—no matter how much you gave. They neglected you as a baby. You were just a baby, Paul, and they left you on your own, locked in a tiny room. And because of your gigantic, beautiful heart, and your beautiful need to protect the ones you love, you took it on yourself to

look out for your brother and sister. You did it because you didn’t want them to feel as unloved as you did. All you wanted was a real family, real love, and you hung onto that for as long as you could. You held onto the hope that they’d all start acting the way you knew in your heart, a family should be.” He turned to look at her with his hard, murderous eyes, as if asking if she’d really just said all that aloud, but she wasn’t finished. “And I hate Peter for forcing you to have sex before you were ready, for tainting your feelings about everything that has to do with romance, and romantic love, and I hate him for being a

stupid, selfish fool, and blaming his own selfish stupidity on you. He got himself killed. It wasn’t your fault!” Suddenly, Paul was bearing down on her, his face in front of hers, not touching, but almost. The look in his eyes would have scared her if she didn’t know him better than he knew himself. “I told you about all of that because I trusted you. I should have known you’d use that against me too.” “I’m not using anything against you. I’m trying to talk some reason into you. I absolutely do not think you are the horrible person you think you are.” “Do you know how many opportunities I had to get it over with?”

he yelled. “The night, right here in this room, when you saw me going to the bathroom. The night on the deck, when you asked me to deflower you. In the hotel room in Utah, when I told you to go take a shower. The night on the beach, in Costa Rica—hell, the very next night—” He glared, his eyes stone cold. “It would have been done—just like you said. I could have saved us both a shitload of trouble.” She met his lethal glare with confidence. “But you didn’t. You didn’t because that isn’t you. This man you want me to believe you are, doesn’t exist.” Paul groaned and rolled his eyes

again. “Give it up. You can’t make me believe that you don’t see me for what I am anymore. I know what I did, and I know what you did to get me to do it.” “Do what, Paul? We consummated our marriage, we acted on the love we feel for each other. We made love.” “That wasn’t making love, Rhees! I hurt you! You goaded me, and the real me, played right into your hands. I hurt you.” “Yes—yes you did hurt me!” she snapped back. She saw his expression fall, and she regretted saying it, knowing he thought she’d just confirmed his opinion of himself, of what he’d done. “The sex didn’t hurt—not any more

than it ever does the first time—I think, but I loved it, because I love you, so very much. But the way you treated me, after. The things you said, you’re still saying. You’ve turned a beautiful moment into something dirty.” She choked up and had to pause to clear her throat. “That hurt a hundred times more than the sex.” “There you go,” he said with a mocking laugh. How could she keep trying to call it anything else besides the truth? “Part of that is actually an honest observation. See? That’s what I keep trying to tell you. You do know the man I really am.” “I see the man I love.”

Paul growled to demonstrate his exasperation, but he secretly felt relieved at how well she’d been keeping him worked up. He’d come dangerously close to giving in. Climbing into bed with her, holding her all night—it was all he really wanted to do for the rest of his life. He slipped his shoes on and walked to the door. “You coming?” oOo Regina lay in her bed, watching Tracy, knowing her best friend didn’t want to be hearing the argument any more than she did. The walls were sheets of plywood nailed to the studs

instead of sheetrock, two layers, and quite soundproof, so the exact words didn’t make it through, but they could make out the pain and accusation in both Paul and Rhees’ tones. They’d heard enough to be sad and concerned. “We shouldn’t be here,” Tracy said when she heard the door close behind the unhappy couple. “They’re married now. They need their own place.” “They should not be here,” Regina said. “Paul has his apartment. They should be living there now.” Tracy nodded in agreement. “Tracy,” Regina added. “You cannot be telling anybody about this. They do not need any busybody noses sticking on

top of their business. It will only be making it worse.” Again, Tracy nodded in agreement and didn’t bother to correct Regina’s English. oOo Paul and Rhees reached the shop in silence, but after Randy’s house— Miranda’s little store, instead of turning left onto the Plank, Rhees turned right, and headed toward Paul’s apartment across the street. “Where’re you going?” Paul stopped and stared at her like she’d just asked him to take her on another shopping trip. She didn’t answer. He followed her to

his door and watched with curiosity as she unlocked it, walked just inside, where she stood looking around. “What are you looking for?” She fired a glance at him that he didn’t understand and then climbed the ladder stairs to the loft. She stared at his bed for far too long and he finally figured out the problem. “I slept on the couch . . . alone.” She turned to look at him again, unconvinced. “I haven’t been with anyone, except you—” he hated the reminder, “—since May.” “What about Bathroom Girl, last night?” She climbed halfway down the

ladder and sat on one of the rungs. “Bathroom Girl?” It took a second to know who she referred to, but it became another confirmation that Rhees knew exactly what he was. “I met Ronnie at Oscar’s. She and her friends just got here from St. Martin. She wants to be a dive master. We talked about getting her trained, but she got flirty. I told her I was married, and left. I headed to the Starfish, and the next thing I knew, she’d followed me. I didn’t ask her to, I didn’t want her to.” “You were going into the bathroom with her!” Rhees cried out. “No! I wasn’t,” he yelled back. “I saw you.”

“No, Rhees, you didn’t,” his voice faded to a quieter tone, “because I wasn’t going into the bathroom with her. I had a lot on my mind. I didn’t know she’d followed me until I got there. Suddenly, she was right next to me, asking where the nearest bathroom was. I told her my wife liked the one at the Starfish. It was right there, I opened the door for her—period.” “Promise?” He dropped his head back and looked up in aggravation. “I shouldn’t have to. I already made you a promise in front of a preacher and a whole group of witnesses. You know how I feel about breaking promises.” He walked to the

door, opened it, and waited for her so they could get to work. “And you weren’t drunk?” “No.” He tilted his head and gave her an impatient look. “Not yet.” oOo Later that day, Bathroom Girl walked into the office while Rhees and Claire worked on their computers. “Hi,” she said enthusiastically. “I’m looking for the infamous and very goodlooking, Paul Weaver.” Her accent sounded French. “What do you want with him?” Rhees was surprised with Claire’s quick, condescending response.

“Could you tell him Ronnie is here? That’s short for Veronique. He’ll know who you are talking about. He told me I’d be a good fit for him—I mean, for his shop.” She grinned coyly, as if she’d innocently made the slip—by accident— on purpose. “He asked me to get my dive master here, and I would never refuse that man, anything.” “Oh.” Rhees tried to smile as she stood to face the girl. “He’s busy right now, but I can get you registered.” “No. I want to talk to him. I want him to register me.” Claire stood too and rested her elbows on the counter. She reeked with intolerance for the slut on the other side.

“We’re full right now, not taking new students at the moment.” “No, Claire. Um, we had that cancellation, remember?” Rhees gave Claire a warning glance, to which Claire conceded. Rhees didn’t want Ronnie there any more than Claire, but they were running a business, a business that was now half hers. She needed to act like a professional, not a big, jealous baby. “We have a spot.” “Paul’s busy,” Claire saved the conversation. “And very married.” “He said that, but his wife was nowhere to be found, you know, when we spent the night together.” The harlot actually smirked. “Believe me. He’ll be

happy to see me again.” Rhees felt a stab in her heart. She would have been—should have been with him. The reason she hadn’t, stung. He couldn’t stand being around her anymore. Now, this woman stood, right in her face, making an innuendo about sleeping with Paul, her husband. He’d promised—no, he actually hadn’t promised when she’d asked about it just that morning. He’d only told her that he hadn’t been with anyone else since May. She wanted to believe him, but her insecurity rose up a notch or two. “Well, like we said, Paul’s busy.” Claire glared at Ronnie. “He’ll just send you back here to us. We take care of all

the registrations.” Rhees grabbed the clipboard with the right paperwork and handed it to the girl. “Just fill this out and we’ll get you started.” She didn’t have it in her to force a smile this time. “He’s very convincing. I’m eager to work with him. He seems like such a good diver,” Ronnie rambled on as she filled out the forms. “I’m sure he’s the best instructor on the island.” “It’s amazing you could tell, just by talking to him, for how long?” Claire had read Rhees’ mind, but Claire actually said rude things out loud. Ronnie waved her hands in the air with a laugh. “Well, he sounded like he

knew what he was talking about, so selfassured, and good looking.” “He’s married,” Claire said, again, dryly. Her expression matched Rhees’ when Ronnie actually shrugged, making it clear that it didn’t matter. “I’m afraid Paul doesn’t actually teach the course.” Rhees had to clear her throat. “This shop is what some people call a dive college. He’s the owner. He supervises the training.” “Oh. I was under the impression . . .” Ronnie looked up from her paperwork. She seemed disappointed, almost to the point of having second thoughts. “If he’s supervising, that means he’s here every day, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Rhees strained to sound enthusiastic. She didn’t want Ronnie around, and she wished she hadn’t been so quick to shut Claire’s rejection down—but a paying student. “Okay, then,” Ronnie sounded too relieved as she handed the clipboard back to Rhees. “That’s all I need to work my magic.” “Skank,” Claire said under her breath. “What?” Ronnie asked. “She said, um . . . thank . . . you,” Rhees tried to cover for Claire, “for filling out the form and joining us here at Paradise.” Ronnie leaned over the counter and

spoke in a hushed tone, “So, what’s the story with the wife? How stupid could she be? I mean, to let a man that fine, walk around unguarded.” Claire reached over and took Rhees’ left hand, setting it on the counter to make sure Ronnie didn’t miss the ridiculously large diamond on her ring finger. Rhees never imagined she would love her gargantuan wedding ring as much as she did at that moment, or be so grateful, that because of her marital problems, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to put the large diamond section in the safe yet. She could have kissed Claire. “Steer clear of Paul,” Claire said.

Ronnie looked the ring over and made a face that reflected respect, but to the ring, not necessarily the woman wearing it. She finally looked up at Rhees and checked her out from head to . . . as far down as she could see her behind the counter. When she finished scrutinizing Rhees, a strange glint flickered across her face, as if to say she didn’t think the competition too stiff. “Good looking and rich,” she said, glaring at Rhees as if challenging her to a duel. Rhees had been dealing with the occasional girl brazenly trying to steal Paul’s attention, right out from under her, since the first night he’d walked her

home. Over time, Paul’s dedicated attention to only her had mostly cured her from worrying too much, but she worried now. Rhees looked over the paperwork to make sure Ronnie hadn’t missed anything, at least she pretended to. Her concentration was shot and the writing was nothing but a blur. Ronnie extended her hand to Claire. “I’m happy to meet you.” “I’m Claire,” Rhees’ friend sneered, and then flashed Ronnie the phoniest smile Rhees had ever seen. Ronnie turned to Rhees with her own fake smile, pretending not to know already. “And you are?”

“Rhees.” “Mrs. Weaver.” Claire made it clear to the new girl. “Mrs. Paul Weaver.” “Nice to meet you.” Ronnie’s insincere voice and smile didn’t falter as she reached for Rhees’ hand. Rhees hesitated before reciprocating, and Ronnie held her hand longer than necessary, sizing her up again. “That girl is trouble,” Claire said when Ronnie walked out. “Watch your back.” “It’s not my back I’m worried about.” Rhees knew Paul would never agree to lock himself in his room for the next few weeks. She could never ask him to, being the only person he’d ever

confided in about his childhood. oOo Rhees waited that evening while Paul found a hundred unnecessary things to do to prolong leaving the shop, as if he dreaded having to finally face her. He’d avoided her all day, again, so she determined she’d stop trying to get him to talk about it, hoping he’d finally relax and come around. She didn’t know if it would work, but chasing him around wasn’t working, attempting to catch him long enough to make him talk it out, thinking that she could finally say the right words, in the right way, that would make it all better.

Her stomach churned, her nerves were frazzled, she was shaky, and it reminded her of the dance club performances in high school. She finally got tired of waiting for him to avoid her any longer. “Can this wait until tomorrow?” She wasn’t hungry at all, but she knew he had to be. Hunger and Paul didn’t mix well. “Dinner takes forever. We should get going, don’t you think?” She saw him wince. He hated the sound of her voice now too, apparently. He put his hands on his hips and avoided eye contact. “Mitch and Shanni are meeting up with us at Jungo’s for dinner. It’s just

down the road so I thought we’d wait, and head from here.” “Oh.” It would have been nice to know that earlier. He must have seen the concern on her face. “You look fine. You can shower after dinner.” But Jungo’s is one of the nicer restaurants on the island, she thought. She was going to feel out of place in her shorts and T-shirt over a swimming suit, but she held firm to her new resolve. She wasn’t about to push him on anything until he finally stopped acting like he was about to crawl out of his skin around her. She sat down on the bench in the gazebo, pulled the brush out of her

pack, and started to work on her dive hair. “I said you look fine.” His voice sounded gentler than the crusty grumbling he’d been giving her lately. His eyes looked softer too, regretful, if she wasn’t mistaken. “You’re beautiful . . . as always.” She stopped brushing and paused for a second before tucking the brush back into her pack. Those simple words were the best interaction she’d had with him since he’d crawled into her bed and pulled her into his arms the night before. “Shall we go?” he asked as he held his hand out to her. She hesitated, wondering, afraid of assuming the

gesture meant more than it did. She took his hand and he pulled, helping her up from the bench, and leaving them looking into each other’s eyes when she stood. The moment of silence seemed to last a very long time as each of them searched for something from the other. “Shall we go?” he finally asked again, and she nodded. oOo Rhees had only eaten at the restaurant once before, when it had been just the two of them, Paul and her. Tucked back in the jungle, Jungo’s sat off and away from town, accessed only by a hundred and fifty-yard meandering path.

The decor reminded Rhees of the Emerald Starfish, the way it had been built around a theme. The walls were made to look like they were hewn from rock, giving it a cave-like feeling with a grass hut-style roof. There was no breeze, but all the vegetation and shade kept it cool. It didn’t take long for her to understand why they were having dinner with Mitch and Shanni. The whole thing felt too convenient. Dinner with Paul’s friends was his shield against her, a successful attempt to fill in the time they might otherwise use to rehash their problems. Paul engaged Mitch in conversation

all night, out of character for him, the best listener in the world, but every time the conversation started to move toward more recent times, Paul was the one to take it back to pre-Rhees. Shanni piped in every now and then, having hooked up with Mitch sometime during the two men’s friendship, but Rhees had nothing to add to the reminiscing of their shared past. She could do nothing but listen with a smile. Mitch had been Paul’s friend for years and they’d all come to the island together. Ginger had been part of their foursome when they first arrived, but she left shortly after. She was the subject of most of their stories, and one after

another, they laughed at all the incredible, problematic situations she’d gotten them into. Rhees had heard the name before, but didn’t know much about her before hearing the shocking stories that night. Shanni never once attempted to show anything but disdain for their former traveling companion, so it surprised Rhees to find out that Ginger was Mitch’s cousin. That helped her understand the fondness in Mitch’s tone regarding the family member, but she didn’t understand Paul’s apparent fondness for the eccentric, possibly mentally unstable, teetering on sociopathic, woman, leaving Rhees to

feel a little threatened by the past Paul and Ginger had shared. Rhees felt herself deflate even more when Ronnie and two other unfamiliar girls walked into the restaurant during dessert. Rhees brooded as she watched Ronnie so obviously staring at Paul for the next twenty minutes until the check came. She’d noticed Paul glance over at Ronnie a few times, but only with his scowly eyes, which gave Rhees a little confidence, but not enough. “Take Rhees home for me,” Paul said as he grabbed the check and slipped his credit card inside the folder. “Ronnie said she’s been trying to convince her friends to sign up with Paradise. I’m

going to go talk to them for a few minutes. Maybe I can convince them.” “I’ll wait for you,” Rhees said. “No.” Paul left no room for discussion and Rhees saw some unspoken message pass between him and Mitch. Shanni looked at Rhees like she understood as well. “I won’t be long.” “No problem,” Mitch said in his Irish brogue. He slipped his arm tightly into the crook of Shanni and Rhees’ elbows, and escorted them out of the restaurant, giving Rhees no chance to object. She turned back and watched Paul stroll over to Ronnie and her friends’ table, saw how Ronnie’s eye lit up, but she didn’t get to see how Paul

reacted to the I know you’re married, but I don’t care look she gave him. Mitch had dragged her around the corner where she could no longer see anything but a bunch of jungle plants, the rock pathway, and water, the water that had filled her eyes. oOo Paul didn’t say anything as Rhees unlocked the door to let him into the apartment, an hour and fifteen minutes later, not really that long considering the walking distance between Oceanside and Jungo’s, but based on his past, Rhees knew it was long enough. She reminded herself, it didn’t matter.

She ignored him but sensed Paul’s confusion as he watched her climb into the twin bed—that was already messy, because she’d already been trying to get to sleep on the twin, instead of their bed. She was making a point. She’d given her conditions about it, if he were to do what she feared he had, with Ronnie. She reminded herself again. It didn’t matter. She still loved him, and didn’t want to figure out how to live without him, but he’d have to get very clean before she’d let him touch her again. Shower or no shower, she knew he had no intention of touching her, so she could have slept in their bed. She didn’t want to, even though she knew how much he

hated sleeping alone. Paul gave up, shaking his head, and without a word, slipped into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He finally climbed into the double bed, and the room fell silent for about an hour. She didn’t hear his normal sleep breathing pattern, so she knew he was still awake too. “I haven’t changed my mind about keeping promises. It was just business.” “Fine.” “I’m not going to break my promise. Vows are promises too.” “It doesn’t matter.” He made a frustrated, surrendering groan, but that’s all they said the rest of

the night, even though neither of them slept. She had a lot she wanted to say, but she stuck to her plan not to nag him.

Chapter 19 he next day, Ronnie’s friends signed up for the dive master course and Rhees wasn’t sure if she was relieved to know Paul really did use the time at Jungo’s to

sell them on the idea, or worried that having Ronnie’s friends around meant two more girls would be vying for her husband’s attention. Even if Marcelle and Sophie weren’t interested in Paul for themselves, having them around would surely fuel Ronnie’s flagrant flirting. The last thing Rhees thought Ronnie needed was a confidence booster. Rhees had started to wonder if Paul was right—if she wasn’t crazy already, she was surely losing her mind, now.

T

oOo Everyone turned to see the reason

for Paul’s creative swear words. By the time every eye turned to him, The Tow’d’s engine parts had exploded against the wall of the The Room That Had No Purpose. “Piece of shit!” His response may have had as much to do with his personal life than the actual performance —or nonperformance—of his premier dive boat, and a few people knew. Rumors had started to circulate as people noticed the tension between the newlyweds, but luckily, no one had come to any good conclusions. He wondered if Tracy was really keeping her mouth shut for a change, or if she’d just not heard enough of the conversation

through the dense walls at their apartment. Either way, he was grateful. “Poor baby. Anything I can do to help?” Ronnie offered, setting her hand on his arm. Paul didn’t know where she’d come from, or how she got to him so quickly, but he jerked away from her touch, annoyed that the stupid girl believed he wanted her sympathy. He put on his grumpiest armor to scare her off. She didn’t move away, failing to take the hint. The sound of the crash, his swearing, or both, must have been what brought Rhees rushing out of the office with the most beautiful concern on her face.

My wife. He almost smiled to welcome her empathy before he caught himself. How is it possible to feel this much? He cursed himself for wanting to fall into her arms, tell her how much he loved her, and let her compassionate soul soothe his frazzled nerves. His resolve had taken a direct hit the other night, breathing in her luscious scent, feeling the warmth of her, holding her lovely body in his arms all night. He hated the way he’d taken her, it wasn’t supposed to happen that way, but now, his body wouldn’t stop reminding him how perfect she’d felt. Damn, if he didn’t crave her all the more, knowing what it was like.

The fact that Rhees had forced him to sleep alone last night had been a blessing. He knew she’d done it because he’d hurt her, using friends to keep from having to talk about it again. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out—keep from just sweeping her up in his arms—forever, and ignore her problems. He also suspected that Rhees thought he was interested in Ronnie. Her fears about that were just another one of Keene’s predictions coming to light. Rhees did suffer from irrational insecurities and jealousy. He almost laughed. Ronnie was too forward, even for the old him. That girl

was too much like Ginger for his tastes. Not only had one Ginger been quite enough, Rhees was the only one he wanted, had wanted, or thought about, for . . . it felt like forever. He felt like he knew her, even before he did. “Damn it!” he cursed again, aloud that time. He had a hard time feeling betrayed anymore. He hated betrayal, but he’d come to the conclusion it wasn’t Rhees’ fault. She was sick. The more he thought about it, every second of the day, and night too, the more excuses he came up with for her behavior, but none for his own. As hard as it was, it didn’t matter

how much he didn’t want to, it didn’t matter that it would kill him, he had to fix it. He had to get her the help she needed. The healthy Rhees would finally see him for what he really was, and she’d know what a mistake she’d made to love him. A healthy Rhees would want to love a good man, someone like her. A healthy Rhees would want to get as far away from him as possible. He loved her, but he had to hold his ground, for her own good. He needed a shield. “Ronnie!” He flashed his most charming smile, knowing Rhees would see. He even threw in a wink. “Do you know anything about engines?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Ronnie laughed, and sashayed closer to him while returning a coy, flirty smile. “I know that when you throw the engine parts that hard against a wall, you’re screwed.” Paul genuinely laughed at the truth, and humor of her comment, but then glanced Rhees’ way in time to see the heartache he’d caused by being flirty with, not only another woman, but the one Rhees worried the most about. He looked out over the ocean while the shame ate away at him. Rhees turned and practically ran back to the office. He almost followed her, but he reminded himself that it needed to happen.

oOo Paul stayed away from Rhees as long as he could, but an hour and fortyfive minutes later, he’d finally come up with a believable excuse to go to the office and check on her. “Where’s Rhees?” It shook him to find she wasn’t there. Claire gave him the cold shoulder. Frustrated, he went searching for her. When he didn’t find her, he returned to the office, his imagination and worry were getting the best of him. “Where is she?” He didn’t attempt to hide his anger. “What do you bloody care?” “Where. Is. She?” he hissed.

Claire turned and glared at him, but still refused to give him any information. “She left without saying a word? She knows better.” He stepped out of the office and looked down the Plank, willing her back. He hated not knowing where she was, wondering if she was all right. He decided he’d look for her, but quickly changed his mind before he made it to the street. He couldn’t afford to let her know how much he cared. He made his way back to his, piece of shit, boat and stood staring, too upset to really think through the problem with the damned thing. Randy was supposed to get back to him with the name of a mechanic on the mainland, but so far, he

hadn’t heard anything. A strange noise on the Plank caught his attention, and he turned to see the cause. Rhees marched across the wooden planks dragging her duffle bag, the wheels clanking as they went. His heart stopped. “She’s leaving me,” he panted. He lost his balance and almost fell backward off the deck, his bones felt as though they’d liquefied. He couldn’t breathe. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees, trembling, as he assimilated the fact that his plan had worked—and he waited to collapse— and have to be taken to the hospital for the heart attack he knew he was in the

middle of having. Rhees made her way to The Room That Had No Purpose, and ducked inside, dragging her bag with her. When she didn’t come back out, Paul finally found the strength to move, and he followed her into the room, apprehension and fear eating away at his insides. “You’re leaving!” he accused. She turned, a questioning expression on her face, as he stood in the doorway. “Your bag! You’re all packed. You’re actually going to leave.” He couldn’t temper his condemning tone, even though this was what he’d hoped for, didn’t really want, but needed,

because she needed it. He thought about what she’d said. She believed leaving would be the end of them—but there she was, all ready to go. She didn’t care anymore. His own success knocked the air from his lungs. “You’re going to Texas.” He knew he shouldn’t let himself sound like her leaving was going to kill him. He knew he should recalculate, but someone had pushed the pause button on his brain. “No!” She stared at him incredulously. “But your bag.” He hoped she wouldn’t notice how shaky his voice had become.

She glanced down at her duffle. “Oh, that. Um.” She fidgeted, actually started wringing her hands as she fumbled for a response. “I’ve moved out of Oceanside.” After a beat, she nervously commenced taking clothes from the duffle bag and hanging them on the freestanding closet rod that used to be at her apartment. He looked to his left and noticed boxes stacked on the table, the microwave he’d bought for her was there too—everything they’d kept at her apartment was now in the room at the shop. The time it must have taken her to move everything—how had he not

noticed? She’d obviously taken advantage of the strained detachment he’d been forcing himself to maintain. The nausea subsided, and the room slowed down, no longer spinning completely out of control. Now it felt more like a merry-go-round, still turning, but manageable. “You moved out.” Paul’s voice was absolutely toneless, flat. “Yes.” She started her explanation to get ahead of the storm she was sure would come. “It’s stupid to keep two apartments. We’re married now, and married couples should have their own place. I know you liked that my apartment was bigger and nicer than

yours, but it’s stupid to keep two. We shouldn’t have roommates anymore. We do need privacy, and it’s stupid to be paying rent for both places. Oceanside is too far away which made yours the better choice. Yours is so close to the shop, more convenient. It’s unnecessary and stupid to keep two apartments, and yours is the better choice.” “You said that already.” “Huh.” She didn’t realize she’d been rambling. She waited for his reaction, wondering how bad it would be. He seemed to be taking the news well. He was quiet, not yelling, anyway. He’d been trembling, she’d seen it in his jaw until he clenched it. He fisted his hands

so she couldn’t tell if his hands still shook. “I know you’ve said you like having me in the best apartment on the island, and that your place is too small, and you have too much stuff, and that my things won’t fit at your place and still look like the kind of home you think I deserve, so I thought I’d just keep my things in here.” She waved her hand around the room that was usually empty except for the bedding they kept in there for the nights they slept on the deck. “Now, The Room That Had No Purpose; finally has a purpose.” “I’ve also said, at least a hundred times, that I don’t want you in my bed.”

“I know, but we’ve always slept on the deck most nights anyway. We have months before the rainy season starts up aga—” “Take it back.” “What?” “Take it all back. You’re not moving out of Oceanside.” “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He took a step forward, glaring down at her. She not only didn’t shrink under his intimidation act, the way sane people always did, she leaned up, closer to his face, daring him.

“We’ve already found new renters for my room,” she said, glaring right back. “You what?” His voice went up. He hadn’t expected that. “What about Tracy and Regina? You can’t just make this kind of decision for them. They should have a say in this, it affects them.” “This was their idea,” she snapped. “They helped me move.” “Regina?” His voice went up again. He felt blindsided. Regina was his biggest cheerleader. “Regina would never agree to this.” Rhees tried not to smirk. She knew he’d counted on Regina’s crush to make

her back him up, be on his side. “Tracy hates being ‘privy’ to the conflict we’ve been experiencing lately, and Regina—well, Regina hates seeing you ‘fall off your peg’.” Rhees rolled her tongue against the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “What?” His whole face scrunched up in bewilderment. “I think she meant, fall off your pedestal, or being taken down a peg, but Tracy didn’t bother to translate, so I can’t really be sure. I took it to mean she’s not ready to stop worshipping you just yet, so a little distance sounds like a better option to her, for now.” Rhees watched him. He seemed to

be keeping his temper under control. She felt guilty about playing it this way, but she wasn’t about to tell him that she refused to make it easy for him to cheat on her. Keeping his bachelor pad, the fact that he’d slept there—he hadn’t slept there in months before they were married—but now he’d used it as, what she considered, a weapon against her. She’d strategically taken away his option to retreat while they’d been having their—she didn’t know what the heck they were having—marital problems didn’t quite describe it. Normal married people didn’t have this problem. She didn’t think sex was supposed to be such a big deal, after you

were married. He stared blankly at the wall behind her. His jaw set, his cheek twitched, and it looked like he wanted to say something, but he never did. He finally turned to walk out of the room but he stopped in the doorway. Again she thought he was about to say something so she waited. Twenty seconds later, he exhaled and shook his head. He swore. He stood there another ten seconds like he was too stunned to do anything else. Finally, he walked out without saying another word. It was her turn to exhale and she felt relieved that she hadn’t lost, but she didn’t feel much like

a winner either.

Chapter 20 hat afternoon, Paul walked into the office. “I refuse to call Fred again. Randy knows a mechanic on the mainland. He and I are going to see what

he can do.”

T

“Okay. Do I have time to run across the street for a shower before we go?” Rhees jumped up from her computer but the look on his face was a clear indication he still wasn’t over her moving stunt. He walked back out as abruptly as he’d come in, and without saying another word. “Okay then. Does this mean I don’t have time to shower, or that he doesn’t want me along?” Claire shrugged and gave her a sympathetic look. “Shoot.” She blinked a few times. “He’s really, really mad.”

“All right, little bird, sing. I’m tired of sitting by and watching this. What’s going on?” Rhees looked up at the ceiling. “Claire! I love you, you know I do, but I can’t talk about this with you.” “Then who can you talk to?” Claire sounded hurt. “We’re chums.” “I know. It’s not about our friendship.” Rhees looked apologetic and torn. She didn’t want to hurt Claire’s feelings. “My mom taught me that people should never discuss their marital problems with anyone outside the marriage. When she first married my dad, they’d fight, just normal, first year stuff, but she’d run home to her parents

and tell them all the horrible things he’d done, getting it off her chest. They only ever heard her side of the story, but then she’d go back to dad, they’d make up, and life would be blissful, until the next fight. “It took her a while to realize why her parents hated him. She’d make up, but her parents never had the chance. They never heard her half of the fight, the things she’d done to start it or provoke him. They only heard about the things he did to hurt her feelings or make her mad, but never the things he did to apologize, or to treat her like the special woman he knew their daughter was. She was sure her parents hated him until the

day they died.” “Okay, but I hated Paul before you two ever met.” “Claire,” Rhees scolded. “You don’t hate him any more than he hates you.” “I do today—since you got back from your honeymoon.” oOo Rhees tried to stay out of Paul’s way, but within his sight, as she watched him and Randy preparing the Porgy for the trip; still relatively sure he’d never leave her to fend for herself. She’d skipped her shower and dressed in her new closet so she’d be ready to go. Her pack sat on the table in the gazebo where

she could grab it quickly, just in case. No one had come forward yet, and as the day wore on, the list of possible babysitters grew shorter and shorter. Paul had asked Claire to attend the council meeting for him that night, the one that he really did have. He trusted her to be snarky enough to keep the other council members in line. She’d never let them slip anything by, in his absence, that would be bad for the dive shops. Rhees also knew, somehow, that Paul would never give Dobbs any one-on-one time with her. Tracy and Regina had sneaked off after helping her move, not wanting to be around when Paul found out about it. No

one at the shop had seen them since. She assumed they were home getting to know their new roommates. She was also pretty sure he was probably mad at them, or hurt that they’d helped her behind his back. They’d been his friends longer than hers. Paul obviously trusted Christian to babysit, but her old dance partner hadn’t shown up for two days. She was sure there was more to that story than either one of them had let on. She wanted to know, but Christian was MIA. She couldn’t ask Paul about it either, since she’d promised herself to stop trying to force him to talk about things. Mitch and Shanni were telling

everyone about the big televised game at the Starfish that night. They’d invited her but she’d declined. If Paul had enlisted them to look after her, they would have put up more of a fight—or he would have stepped in with his two cents—it would have been more like his fifty dollars and two cents worth. He had to be planning to take her with him. The Porgy pulled away from the dock, and she watched until they were nothing but a speck against the large mountains on the mainland, and then she couldn’t see them anymore. Paul never once looked back, and it was all Rhees could do not to cry. oOo

It had been the longest afternoon she could remember. She looked out over the ocean every few minutes, hoping to see the Porgy chugging its way back. Paul must have figured he wouldn’t be gone too long. He wouldn’t have left her if he had. She finally grabbed her snorkeling gear and jumped into the water. She needed a distraction. Under the dock was always good for an interesting wildlife sighting, but today she wasn’t interested. She didn’t really care about seeing anything at the moment. She just needed to get away. She put her face in the water and floated, barely even kicking. The sun beat down, hot, but the water was

perfect. It covered her ears and muffled all sound to a nice quiet hum. She focused on the silence, and for the first time since the hijacking, she completely relaxed. She didn’t pay attention to how far she’d drifted until she noticed rocks under her floating body, instead of the white sand. She lifted her head to get her bearings. She’d drifted over a mile away from the shop and it shocked her. Without realizing it, she’d floated past the public beach as well as the row of private, mostly vacant, beach houses that sat to the north of the shop. She rolled onto her back and relaxed for another few minutes before heading back. She

made a mental note to do it again sometime, soon, definitely. oOo Rhees stood on the bottom rung of the ladder and tossed her fins onto the deck. She climbed up, squeezed the excess water from her hair and watched Claire erase the board and begin to write down the next day’s schedule. It was time to close up. She looked over to where the Porgy was usually docked. Still not back. She turned to look toward the mainland, thinking for sure that Paul would be on his way back by now. Nothing. Thirty minutes later, everyone had

disappeared from the shop except Claire and Dobbs, but even they set about locking everything up. “Do you want to have dinner with us?” Claire looked concerned for her friend. “We were going to just grab some baleadas before my meeting.” “No, thanks. I want to wait here.” “You know that engine’s been the bane of Paul’s existence for months. It’s probably giving the new mechanic trouble too.” Dobbs scratched his bald head, looking out toward the mainland. “Do I look that pathetic?” Rhees chuckled, ignoring the highly unlikely fact that any mechanic shop in this country would stay open past the dinner

hour. “Get something to eat, and don’t worry about him. He can’t stand to be away from you any more than you him.” Claire grabbed Dobbs by the elbow, knowing that there was more going on with them than her husband knew. “I’m starved. Let’s go. Bye, Sweet. See you tomorrow.” Claire turned and asked, “You have your key, right? I didn’t just lock you out?” Rhees glanced to the table to confirm her backpack hadn’t walked off. She nodded and waved. “I’ll be fine. Have a nice evening.” oOo

Rhees paced back and forth, watching the direction he would be coming. She ran to Paul’s apartment to shower and change, returned, wandered around, found some trash—put it in the bin. She shook her head at how the people at the shop left their garbage lying around. She wasn’t their mother. She wished Paul had a phone. They still hadn’t replaced their phones since the hijacking. She paced again, ran through a few stretching poses, twirled a few times, turned to look at the mainland again. She sat on the table and faced west. The view was better from the table than it was from the floor. Her stomach rumbled, but she knew she wouldn’t be

able to keep food down. She watched the sunset, a welcomed distraction, but before long, darkness enveloped the shop. ‘He can’t stand to be away from you any more than you him’, Dobbs’ words stung as she sat in the dark. What did Dobbs know? It was pitch black at the end of the deck, and she was alone at the end of civilization. Only one bar and the private beach houses sat to the north of the shop, but even they were down the road. Randy’s house was next door to the south, but it sat closer to the road. The shop’s deck extended a long distance over the water. There was no

one around to hear her and she finally let go. She sobbed for almost an hour and when she couldn’t cry any more, she sat up and let herself be numb. An hour later, she got up, jumped up and down, waving her arms until the motion light turned on. She grabbed her backpack, dragged her chair to the light, sat down, pulled her journal out, and started writing. At midnight, she pulled her mat, their mat, out from the rafters of the gazebo, rolled it out, and sat against the rail, letting herself go numb, again. It was almost two o’clock before she noticed lights on the water. It took another ten minutes before the Porgy’s engine geared down to begin docking.

She jumped up, expecting Paul to throw her one line while he jumped off the boat to tie off the other, but she couldn’t see him. She did her best to position the boat from the deck while Randy worked to back the boat into its spot. “Grab the line.” She hopped onto the bow, tossed the bumpers over the side, grabbed the front line, hopped back onto the deck, and tied it to the cleat. Randy killed the engine, jumped off the boat and beat her to tie off the back. “Sorry so late.” Randy tossed his head toward the passenger sitting in the front corner of the boat. “Someone ‘cided ta pardy.” He stepped back onto

the boat and positioned one of Paul’s arms up and over his own shoulder, pulling him to his feet. “That it, big boy.” Paul couldn’t stand without help, but he managed to hang onto the bottle in his hand just fine. Rhees raced to them and did what she could to help Randy keep his balance while Paul swayed. Together, she and Randy managed to get him off the boat without falling into the water. “I don’t neeed hel-p,” Paul growled, slurring his words as he wrestled with them. “I’ve been getting my-self on and off this damned boat for years.” Rhees moved to take his other side once they had him on the deck. He

finally noticed her. “Hey, beautiful.” Paul looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. He pulled the arm Randy had hold of, and threw it around Rhees. She almost buckled when his full weight was suddenly only on her. “Whoa! Careful there, you’re going to have us both flat on our faces in a tangled heap.” “Mm!” Paul grunted and then grinned. “That sounds good. Let’s get taan-gled.” Randy helped her get Paul to the mat, and after a brief argument and struggle, he seemed to fall asleep. They put his bottle on the table under the gazebo, and

Randy explained what happened. After dropping the part off at the mechanic’s shop, they’d gone to get dinner and had a few drinks while they waited. Paul asked Randy to go settle up with the mechanic while he waited at the bar. When Randy returned, he had to search several bars in the area before he found him. “He’s so drunk, I don’ know how he’s standin’, let alone dancin’, but you know how it gets with him. Them girls, they all vyin’ for his ‘tention.” Rhees must not have hidden her sorrow well enough, because Randy blurted out the rest as an afterthought. “He’s tellin’ them he’s married ta the

mose beautiful woman in the world. That he’s not in’trested in them. He never sees them other girls ena-more, only my cousin, criss ting. He won’ be strayin’ from your bed. Them genes run strong in our Williams’ women, they keep their men hangin’ on for dear life.” She tried to smile, knowing they didn’t really share any DNA. “Thank you for getting him home. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but now you’d better get home before your most beautiful wife locks you out of the house.” “Prob’ly too late for that. You han’l him all right?” “I got it. Thank you.” “We’ll have ta give ‘im a proper

welcome at the nex’ par’dy. He’s fam’ly now, too, you know.” Rhees forced another smile. It was true, but she didn’t know for how long. “Walk good,” Randy said, waving. He must have been more concerned about getting locked out than he’d let on. He didn’t waste any time getting away, probably before Rhees could change her mind. oOo Rhees stood, watching Randy walk away when Paul’s arms snaked around her waist from behind. She startled, and he sighed in her ear.

“You ever going to stop doing that every time I touch you?” “I’ve already stopped—I just didn’t know you were there. I thought you were asleep.” His stubble and warm breath skimmed affectionately over the skin of her neck. “No-pe. Not ready to sleep.” He pulled her hair out of the way for better access. “You’re drunk. You should be asleep.” He snickered against the skin behind her ear. “Yeah, I’m da-runk.” “Yes. I know. You wouldn’t be so affectionate if you weren’t. In fact, you wouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

A frustrated, but soft growl rumbled at the back of his throat. “It-s’all fucked up, everything.” His hands moved up, his arms smoothed around her shoulders, pinning her back against him. “I l-love you so much,” he whispered feverishly against her cheek. “I’ve noticed.” She closed her eyes and savored his touch. “—Just how much you love me, lately.” “I know. I’m sorry. It-s’all fucked up, but I. Do. Love. You.” She wanted to believe it but she didn’t dare. She’d longed for this kind —his kind of assurance for days, but he’d refused to give it to her. She reached up behind her and tenderly

stroked the side of his face. He kissed the palm of her hand before leaning his cheek into it. “As nice as this is, now, you’re going to hate me again in the morning, aren’t you?” He burst out laughing. “Now there’s a whole new twist on, ‘will you still respect me in the morning’?” “You know what I mean.” She turned in his arms to face him. He was so beautiful when his eyes sparkled that way, but she still felt a sad pain in her heart. “That’s what all this boils down to, isn’t it? I finally gave it up for you, and now, you don’t respect me anymore.”

She looked down in shame. “I can’t say I blame you. I’m sorry I hurt you—” He grabbed her chin and kissed her, hard, to shut her up. “Let’s not waste my excellent drunk by going there.” He kissed her again before pulling back to look at her, as if just receiving a revelation. “I’m ve-rry da-runk!” He arched a brow and one side of his mouth curled up into a sexy grin. She realized what he was inferring. “No! I mean, I know what you say happens when you’re drunk, but, no. Not tonight.” “I say yes.” He used his all-business voice, trying to sound like Mr. GrumpyPants.

She giggled. “You’re too drunk to get a vote. Come on, we need to get you to bed.” “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” He gave her a quick smooch and picked her up. “Put me down. You can’t even keep yourself upright.” She fought him. He ignored her, but when he turned to head toward the mat, he swayed. “Whoa!” He stopped and set her feet back on the deck. “You’re right. You carry me.” He laughed and sneaked in another kiss while pretending to try to get her to pick him up. She laughed too. “You should always be this much fun.”

“I’m awl-ways fun,” he sounded offended. “Lately?” She sighed. “Not so much.” He took her face in both hands and forced her to look at him. He looked very serious. “I’m fun. Life’s the party pooper.” He rested his forehead on hers and stared downheartedly at her. He gasped and pulled away as if suddenly having an idea. “I know!” He became animated. “Let’s dance—we neeed to dance.” He started toward the media room to turn on some music. “Nooo one dances like my Dani Girrl—believe me. I’ve been on the lookout, haven’t found one girl who

can dance like you.” “All the girls at the bar?” Her voice gave away how jealous his actions had made her feel. He turned back to look at her. “Pfft! Hell yeah. Not ee-ven close!” “It hurts my feelings that you would be looking. Maybe some guys can get away with that—but you—no. You shouldn’t be hanging around bars, asking girls to dance. You’re married and there are too many girls out there who, because of the way you look—Paul, they don’t care that you’re married.” He raised his hands in the air, showing how bewildered he was that she could doubt him. “That’s another

thing Keene warned me about. He said you’d be insecure and never really believe how much I really love you.” She rolled her eyes at that. “Baby!” His smoldering eyes fixed on hers and he sauntered toward her, creeping like a predator stalking its prey, slowly, bit by bit, probably to keep his balance, not an easy feat, given his condition. “Ba-by . . . Dani Girrl. I reeally neeed you to understand.” He took a step, keeping time with each word as he said them, one by one. “Just. How. Much. I. Love. You.” “You have a funny way of showing it —no, it’s not funny at all. You won’t even look at me, let alone touch me.”

He leaned in closely, his eyes hooded with desire. “I’m l-loo-king at you, n-now.” He grabbed her around her waist and pulled her against him with a little too much force, for emphasis. “I’m tou-ching you, n-now.” He locked eyes on her with honed intensity, which rendered her speechless. He had her under his spell, an effect, she thought, he never struggled with. He’d rendered her powerless and all she could do was put her arms around his neck. They held each other that way for a full minute until his countenance distorted from predator to prey. “I’m scared, Baby. So stinking scared.” She thought he was about to cry.

He pulled her in close again. “I don’t want you to leave me.” “I won’t.” “Yes you will.” He sobbed. “You need to get away from me. I’ve been trying to get you to let go, and I don’t do anything halfway, remember? I always get what I want—I don’t really want this —but you need it—I’m doing it for you.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I’m finally doing the right thing for the right reason. I’m doing something for someone besides myself for a change. That’s how much I love you.” “Well, just stop it!” Rhees scolded. “What I need, is you.” “I tried to change for you. I thought I

had. You actually had me believing, for a while that I was redeemable.” He squeezed her tighter and held on. “But I’m not. I gave it my best shot, for you— I tried. I’m going to ruin your life. You shouldn’t be around me. You need someone else, someone better than I am. You need to go back to Utah and find one of those nice boys. I’m going to hell, and it kills me to think I’m dragging you down with me.” She pulled away just enough to see him. “Don’t say that.” “It’s true,” he frowned, and looked so sad, so she put her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest.

He began swaying with her in his arms, and then he started to sing, dancing with her to his own tune. She’d never heard him sing, but like everything else about him, his voice was beautiful. The sound of his voice, his touch, his scent— his stupid plan—she needed a plan of her own. Thank goodness for the alcohol, the ultimate truth serum, it was for him, anyway. Now, at least, she knew what he’d been up to. He sang quietly, the words to a popular song, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. He sang about regret, and how she was the only thing he’d ever done right, but how he’d ruined everything and didn’t know how

he’d go on. She’d never really listened to the lyrics before, but hearing them now, it was the most depressing song she’d ever heard. She sniffled as her tears began to wet the front of his shirt. “Shh, don’t cry. Not tonight. Let’s make a deal.” He held her close. He stopped singing but continued to sway. “No party-poopers tonight. It’s happy hour. Let’s not waste my hard-earned buzz.” She sniffed again, but nodded in agreement. She could use a one-night reprieve from the heartache that had been making them both miserable. “Uh-oh!” He gasped in alarm. “What now?” She sniffled,

wondering how anything could be worse than it was. “Shooot!” He exhaled, long and loud, exaggerating the way she talked. “I just realized!” She looked up at him, worried. One side of his mouth quirked up as he devoured her with his eyes. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I already messed you up.” He said it as if she didn’t already know. She started to argue with him about his terminology but he didn’t give her the chance. “If I m-mess you up again, it won’t er-really be m-messing you up,” he said with his lips against her cheek, drawing

out the words, slowly. He leaned back to look at her, his eyes full of lust. “I’ll do it better this time, I promise. The way I should have done it the first time.” “Are you kidding?” He’d just told her he didn’t think they should be together. She knew he would be back to his drive her away tactics come morning, and the hangover. He rubbed himself against her. “Does that feel like I’m kidding?” She gaped at his nerve. He buried his nose in her hair and sniffed, deliberately. “You smell so good.” He took her hands and started pulling her toward the mat, walking backward, coaxing her along the way.

She wished she was drunk too. It would be easier—not that she was afraid, or freaked out about what might happen. She’d been so sure she’d be able to get past all that when she took matters into her own hands—at least she’d hoped she would when she followed through with most of her plan. She’d wanted Paul for months. He’d stirred feelings in her she’d never experienced before, but her memories, the self-imposed, life-long terror about anything sexual. But she knew what to expect now, and from the man she loved more than life itself. She wasn’t terrified anymore— maybe a little nervous—maybe a lot

nervous. But she wasn’t debilitated by fear anymore . . . except about what Paul would do in the morning if she allowed anything to happen. She saw the bottle of bourbon on the table and reached for it, thinking it would help, but his arm was longer. He got to it first and took a drink. He made a face as it burned going down. He hissed through his teeth, and then held the bottle up for her to see. “Bookers. One hundred and thirty proof. Do you know the odds of finding a bottle of this shit, here in this stupid country?” he asked, and swallowed another gulp. He hissed again before offering her the bottle.

“One thirty?” She thought better of the idea and shook her head. “Good girl. See, you’re a good girl, too good for me.” He swigged again and headed toward the mat with her still in tow and bottle in hand. The arm with the bourbon wound around her neck, and the next thing she knew, his mouth collided into hers like it was the last kiss he’d ever have. His free hand went directly to her breast. “Mm!” he grunted, and he squeezed. “Know how long I’ve wanted to do that? Since the night of the dance contest.” “Ow!” she mouthed breaking contact with his mouth. “A little eager there. You really are too drunk for this.” She tried

to move his hand, but he didn’t cooperate. If anything, it made him squeeze her even harder. “I know. It’s ga-reat, isn’t it?” he said, happy with himself as he came up for air, his hand had gone from the almost painful squeezing to a more tender fondling. “Inebriation makes it so much easier to ignore the conscience, and all the other crap.” “That’s my point. You won’t think it’s so great tomorrow, when it wears off.” She tried to move his hand again, but he just moved it down to her butt and squeezed again, blowing out a quiet whistle to demonstrate his approval. The bottle in his other hand tipped, sloshing

a few drops of the alcohol down her back making her jerk. The movement pushed her breasts against him. “Mm!” he grunted again, appreciatively. “Screw tomorrow! Tarust me, I’m not going to re-memm-ber a thing.” He set the bottle down on the deck next to the mat and almost fell over, laughing at himself. He raised his finger in the air. “Cor-rection! Not, screw tomorrow, screw my wife! Now!” He laughed again. “It rhymes.” “What rhymes?” It was hard to keep up with him once his brain got going. “Correction, erection, Rhees, Paul.” “Our names don’t rhyme.” She actually giggled at his drunken logic.

“They should,” he whispered in her ear before he stuck his tongue inside. She winced and tried not to giggle at him again. She didn’t want to encourage him. “You’re cute when you’re drunk.” “I’m cute e-ven when I’m not darunk.” He pouted for a second, but immediately snapped out of it and into another mood, or thought, with excitement. “I should write you a poem. I haven’t done that since high school English. I always thought it was a joke, so I only wrote stupid poems, but I don’t want to write you a stupid poem.” She laughed. “Of course, but that would be romantic, and you don’t do romantic, although you do an excellent

job of pretending at it.” She put her arms around his waist to help hold him steady. It felt really good, the way it was supposed to, as she gazed up at him, thinking about how romantic he could be. He rolled his eyes. “Not romantic, just good at getting into panties. I always get what I want—cuz I’m a selfish prick.” “Shh.” She put her finger over his mouth. “You’re not. You were romantic for me, many, many times, and you didn’t do it to get into my panties. Even when I wanted you to, you refused to get into my panties.” “Until I did.” His eyes cooled and

grew a shade darker, the pain and regret suddenly apparent in his expression. They stared, holding each other, both regretting their part in the way it had happened. He finally smirked, took her chin in his hand, and squeezed, forcing her lips to pucker up. He gave her pucker a quick smooch and the next thing she knew, they were on the mat, Paul on top of her, gazing in her eyes again. “I want a do-over. It wouldn’t reeally be a do-over—can’t have do-overs —but I can do it better this time. It won’t be as messy this time.” He grinned that crooked grin that she always thought made him look so sexy. She inhaled sharply when he pressed

his erection against her through their clothes. “You got a problem with that?” Rhees didn’t respond. All she could do was stare back. “I asked, Do. You. Have. A problem. With that?” His eyes bore into hers. She shook her head, watching him warily. “But you will, in the morning.” It came out as a whisper. “I said, screw tomorrow, screw the morning,” he murmured in her ear. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He set it on the mat at the side of her head, next to the bourbon. “We’re both good at pretending. I need to pretend tonight. I er-really need to.”

She covered her eyes with her hands. “Are you fa-reaking out on me, again?” he asked, rejection dripped in his tone. “No! Not about what you want to do, but yes, what you’re talking about. I’m not sure I’m ready to face you—sober— if we really do this.” He laughed and then opened his wallet and started fiddling with the contents as if he hadn’t heard her. “I stopped carrying these puppies when I promised to be your boyfriend, as a deterrent because you’re not on the pill, but after our dee-lightful con-soo-maytion episode, I realized I’d better start

carrying again—before I got you pregnant.” The last word rolled off his tongue like a dirty word. He turned to look at her, his expression suddenly serious and reflective. “I have had the thought— maybe I should. It would be the purr-fect excuse to nawt do the right thing.” He rolled to the side of her and held the two condoms in his fingers, before her face. “That would give me one more reason to jus-ti-fy being selfish enough to try and keep you, even though I know I’d just be screwing up your l-life, because that’s just the kind of guy I am.” He scowled. “What are you talking about?” “You’re nawt keeping up! I’m

talking about making you realize what a miss-take you’ve made. You’re sick, and I’m trying to get you help, but once you’re not sick, you won’t need me anymore. ” She almost laughed, though it wasn’t funny, at all. “I thought you were going to leave me, but you’re trying to get me to leave you?” “I said that already. Why aren’t you listening to me? You said, I’m only using sending you to Keene’s facility, as an excuse to get er-rid of you. I don’t want to get er-rid of you, I want you to get errid of me—for your own good. When you get your head right, you’ll realize you want a n-niice man to take care of

you, instead of . . . me.” He nearly cried as he explained it, but he was on his roller coaster again and she could barely keep up. “In the meantime—” he flashed his eyebrows up and down, “—we should take advantage of these.” He waved the foil packets across her line of vision again. He was animated—crazy. “And our marriage certifff-i-cate.” “Paul, I need you to slow down. I think your brain is processing faster than your mouth.” “O-kaaay. You asked for it.” He laughed before he planted his lips on hers and kissed her like there was no tomorrow, but Rhees knew there would

be. “I am now processing with my mouth,” he said with his lips smooshed against hers. His tongue tasted like Bookers, enough to almost make her feel drunk too, but it felt too good, she couldn’t help herself. She decided to follow his advice. Screw tomorrow. She returned his kisses with the same enthusiasm he put into his. The sudden cooperation made him pull back to make sure she was all right. He winked; seemingly pleased at the flushed, ready to be sexed-up look she felt herself wearing. “I have a proposition,” he said as he drew her closer to him. “I’m listening,” she said, still out of

breath. “I only have two of these puppies on me, but one taste and I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s like my first piñata at my seventh birthday party.” “What?” She giggled at him. “Carmen bought me a piñata for my party. I’d never had a piñata before, but it was so beautiful, I got mad when they told me we were going to break it. Then she explained how the piñata was full of candy, but I couldn’t see it, so I didn’t know if it was good candy, or bad candy. Like, is it ten-year-old, hard tootsie rolls, the kind the elderly would give out on Halloween when we were kids, or is it full of those little candy bars, the good

stuff? I still didn’t want to break it, but my curiosity got the best of me. I had to know what was inside.” “Like Christmas and presents.” “Yeah. So there was my beautiful piñata, smashed to smithereens.” He was so serious and thoughtful. “It was the good stuff, and I decided I really liked piñatas, and I never felt bad about breaking them again.” “What does all this have to do with your proposition?” She was sure the drunk had just carried him off on some unrelated tangent. His expression said he didn’t know how she’d missed the point. “Then you come along, and I didn’t

want to smash you, but then I did, and now I know, you’re not just the good stuff I’ve liked so much, for years. You’re the freaking king-sized version of all my favorite candy bars, and they’re just lying around on the ground, waiting for me to pick them up, but I’ve been trying not to.” He looked at her, waiting for her to catch up, but she just stared, not knowing what to say. He must have thought she still didn’t understand because he groaned. “I’m wishing I had at least a dozen condoms,” he resumed the energetic explanation in overdrive. “So I can pick up more of your candy bars. But since I

only have two, and it’s been so long— I’m out of shape. “I’m not going to last long—like last time—how long did that take? I was trying to hurry because I didn’t want to hurt you, but what was it, like forty-five seconds?” He snickered as though he’d told a joke. She let out a sigh. “Stay with me a little longer, I’m almost there. I propose we use the first condom up, fast, like last time. If you’ll let me bump bellies, hard and fast, get it out of my system, it’ll be like rebooting —I need to reboot. Then, we can use the second one to be all about you. I’ll reward you for the gift, I promise.”

A wicked smile spread across his face, making her eyes grow wide with trepidation. His idea intimidated her. Once had pushed her limits. “Never mind,” he said with disappointment. He must have noticed her reticence and she didn’t know how to put his mind at ease. Even though the idea unnerved her, she was still willing. He kissed her nose and softly stoked the side of her face with his finger. “Last time, you know, you just kept saying you wanted to get it o-ver with. I was angry—and selfish—and stu-pid. I knew it was all wrong, but not until it was too late—instinct just took over.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m so sorry, it shouldn’t have happened like that.” “I want to try again.” She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around him, lovingly. “I’ll be more careful this time, I promise. I’ll go slow—as slow as I can. It shouldn’t hurt. I looked it up. It doesn’t usually hurt after the first time, okay?” “I trust you.” She nodded, reassuringly. He looked at her like she’d just slapped him. “You never learn.” A hard scowl set on his mouth and it took him a few seconds to do anything but stare off at

nothing with icy eyes, but then his expression turned gloomy, as if trying to make a hard decision. “You are so perfect and beautiful. We should just sleep.” She sat up on her elbows and glared at him incredulously. “What?” He rolled onto his back. “I’ve changed my mind. Don’t look at me like that.” She reached over and set her hand on his bulge, making him jerk at the unexpected contact. She grinned with satisfaction. “He hasn’t changed his mind.” The corners of his mouth twitched, almost breaking into a smile but she

could see him trying to prevent it. “Yeah, well, though He has a mind of his own, he doesn’t have a brain. I stopped giving him a vote a loong time ago, at least, until the dressing room.” He scowled again and looked off, staring at nothing in particular. “I can see that you’ve moved on from horny drunk to grumpy drunk. Maybe you should get some sleep.” “Come here.” He pulled her against him, turning her so they could spoon. “Good night.” He kissed her on the cheek, letting his lips linger longer than normal. “Good night.” She didn’t do a very good job hiding her disappointment at

the turn of events, or that he would fall asleep so fast. She’d finally convinced herself that if they did make love again, things would be better between them. Logic knew better, but she loved him madly and love didn’t always follow the rules of logic.

Chapter 21 hees couldn’t sleep. She lay in Paul’s arms, listening to, and feeling him breathe against her neck, pondering all that he’d been saying over the past few

days. At least now she knew more about what she was up against and felt grateful for his drunken honesty. He really believed that she only wanted him because he thought she harbored some kind of victim-induced rape fantasy. She didn’t know how he could think she wouldn’t love him anymore if she got better, nor did she understand his definition of better. She felt well on her way already and didn’t want to be institutionalized again. He stirred and nuzzled her neck with his nose as a hand made its way back to her breast. “Hey,” she said, quietly. He didn’t

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stop. She didn’t want to wake him, so she let it play out. He’d unintentionally pilfered a few sleepy gropes in the past, he’d stir, brush her here and there while pulling her in closer before slipping back into deep sleep. Over time, she’d stopped sounding the alarm, because waking him up over it just left him feeling remorseful and ashamed over something she’d finally learned he didn’t mean to do. She’d always had the impression women loved cuddling and men resented it, only tolerating it when necessary, and in small amounts, but Paul always slept best while touching her in some way. She listened for his breathing to deepen

again, but it never did. He kissed her, starting at the back of her neck, and idly worked his way around to the side of her face where he caressed her temple with his lips. His other hand, the one not on her breast, skimmed smoothly down her side. He sighed the second his palm slipped forward and splayed across her stomach, pulling on her, nestling into her a little closer. He let out another contented exhale and paused, holding her that way for a while. She assumed he’d fallen back to sleep again and closed her own eyes, but his hand started moving again, brushing beneath the waistband of her shorts, into

her panties. They both gasped lightly when his fingers began their gentle manipulation. He tugged her to him even tighter, holding her with his arms, pressing himself, hard, against her backside. “I love you,” he murmured in her ear, so close it tickled. Being the object of Paul’s intense desire did things to her. She’d wondered over the last few days if he’d ever touch her again. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he whispered into the same ear before skimming the back of her neck with his warm, soft lips, as his fingers continued playing with her.

His advice was good, and she took a deep breath of the air she’d been missing for the last several seconds, revitalizing her brain cells and stimulating her nerve endings even more, if that were possible. She gave herself over to him, drowning in the lavish attention he offered. He suddenly froze and she almost cried out for him not to stop. “You’re wet,” he panted. She couldn’t tell from the way he’d said it, whether it was a good thing, or not. She thought it was supposed to be a good thing, but he still didn’t move. He lay, fixed, as if processing the information, but then, suddenly wide awake, his movements became frenzied,

desperately unfastening buttons and zippers, and pushing all the cloth barriers away. She kicked her shorts and panties off when he had them to her ankles, and they were eye to eye, naked. “I shouldn’t—but I want you so bad. I can’t control my desire for you, my need for you.” Paul rolled her onto her back and climbed on top of her, finding her lips with his, filling her mouth with his tongue. She encouraged him with her own. The way his fingers stroked her, she didn’t know whether to push against or pull away. She tried both and found the result of each effort . . . rewarding. He stopped and reached for one of

the condoms on the mat above their heads and ripped it open with his teeth. He hesitated, searching her expression for permission. “I love you,” she breathed out, as best as she could manage, hoping to give it to him. “I love you, too,” he breathed back as he rolled on the condom and slid back into place, above her. “I love you, Dani Girl.” And then He knocked against her door. She sucked in a breath of air, almost wheezing, when he pushed his way inside. He let out a masculine exhale before holding utterly still, eyes locked on hers. She knew it had to be hard to do

—nearly impossible—based on the fact that his whole body was trembling as he held his breath. The look on his face, looking at her . . . she would never forget that look. “Are you okay?” He held her face between his hands, staring at her so adoringly. “Yeah,” she whispered, nodding slightly. “I don’t want to hurt you.” “Yeah,” she whispered, again. “Am I hurting you?” “No.” “Good.” He kissed her and then looked at her again, asking permission, but she thought she’d already given it. “I

need to move, Baby.” “Yeah.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, nor could she find her voice as it squeaked out. She couldn’t think of anything, except how much she loved him. Their eyes remained fixed on each other, but she gasped again, not as harshly this time, when he pushed in a little farther. The need in his eyes, she loved being needed by him. She decided at that moment, it had to be the best feeling in the world. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him to her. He took it as his cue and started to move without releasing her from his careful, searching gaze. He kissed her,

over and over, all over her face, so tenderly, so lovingly. It didn’t hurt, really. The tug and pull, the stretching—she hadn’t noticed it the first time—only the burning sensation. She didn’t miss that. This time didn’t burn, and she relaxed, watching him watch her. She didn’t want to miss a single detail. She paid attention to every move he made, ragged breath he took. She felt every twitch of every muscle . . . and then his rocking grew faster, less rhythmic. Sounds panted from his throat, a cross between growling, purring, and crying out for help, like he was in pain, and yet—not. She recognized this part,

remembered how much she had loved this part before. He was almost done. The strong, self-assured poise that ordinarily radiated from his whole being, disappeared, leaving him exposed, so vulnerable, taking yet giving, so alive and yet, as close to death as possible before crossing that line, for her. It stirred something in her. Her body took on a mind of its own. She cried out and tightened her grip on him as he buckled, falling against her with an umph. She lay, holding him, trembling, wanting more. She felt herself clench again and he raised his head to look at her. A sneaky grin spread slowly across his face.

“Your turn,” he said as he rolled off and sat up. He pulled the condom off and tied it with a knot. She watched curiously as he stuck it in the pocket of his shorts, and then, seeing the bourbon sitting there, he reached for the bottle and took a mouthful. “Do you really need more?” “If I want to live with myself,” he said with a smirk, took another drink, holding the amber liquid in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing with a growl at the burn. She finally, truly understood why he was so upset about the vodka bottles in her purse. “Get that look off your face,” he said

as he turned back to her, his grin seemed a little too devious for her to feel comfortable. “I said it’s your turn.” With his wicked smile still in place, he pounced. oOo Paul twisted and straddled Rhees, hovering over her, pinning her down on the mat, holding her arms above her head. He licked her face from bottom to top and then smiled at her like he was scheming. “I don’t like the look you’re giving me,” she said warily. He didn’t acknowledge her, but instead gave her a loving kiss. He stared

at her again for a second before he let the mischievous look return. “What?” she asked. “Tell me.” She could be so insistent. “You said you trust me.” His sneaky smile turned to a scowl for a moment. “You shouldn’t, but right now . . . it would be better if I just showed you.” He kissed her so passionately that he could almost feel her melt. It boosted his ego, as if his ego needed boosting. He proceeded to do his best to kiss every inch of her, working his way down her increasingly tensing body. “Relax.” “I’m relaxed.” “Liar.”

“Okay. I’m nervous.” “I don’t know what the hell for—if you knew what I have in store for you.” “But I don’t.” She giggled, or tried to. He reached her belly button and lapped his tongue inside, making her jerk. “Oh! Don’t do that, it’s sensitive.” He laughed knowingly and made his way farther down. He looked up at her with a devious grin, waited for her to process what would happen next before plunging his head between her legs and kissing the life out of the parts of her that made her female. She squealed with a jolt and wrenched her body so violently that it almost knocked him over.

“What was that?” He looked up at her, incredulously. “It tickles.” “Nooo,” he sang. “It feeels goood.” He licked again. She squealed and writhed against him. “No. It tickles.” She laughed hysterically. “A lot. More than any part of me has ever tickled before.” He laughed and pinned her hips down with his strong arms and tried again. She screamed, and laughed, and tried to get away, but he wouldn’t let go. “Shhh! If you keep that up, e-very man, woman and child on the island will come running to see what the commotion

is all about. This is nawt a spectator sport, Dani Girl.” “But it tickles—” she took a deep breath, trying to calm down, “—you’re torturing me.” “I need you to relax for me, Baby. You can do that, right?” “I don’t know if I can.” “Pleeease?” he begged. “Just ta-ry?” “Okay. I’ll try.” She took another deep breath and let it out, long and slow. He kissed her—carefully—softer than before. He looked up to check on her. She lay on her back, looking up at the stars, concentrating. “How was that?” “Um . . . better.”

He chuckled and repeated what he’d done before but took his time. He felt her begin to unwind. Little by little, he worked her, enjoyed her . . . the way he’d dreamed of for so, so long. He didn’t stop until he had her moaning and ready to fall apart, but just before she did, he crawled his way back up her body, reached for the second condom and rolled it on. He used his legs to spread hers apart far enough to put himself where he needed to be, but didn’t push in. The look on her face confused him. “You didn’t like that?” he asked, worried that he’d just traumatized her or something. “Because . . . I had the

impression you liked it.” “I did. I liked it. I just always thought that was something only perverts did.” “I am a perr-vert. You didn’t know that? One of the m-many character flaws I’ve been warning you about.” “Well, I’m a pervert now too then, because I think I’d like to do that again.” “See?” He frowned. “I told you, I’m dragging you down to hell with me.” He reached for the bottle and took another drink. “You’re not as bad as you think you are. I’m not as good as you think I am. Why do you think that being together means that you either have to be perfect

or that I have to go to hell? Can’t there be something in the middle? A compromise?” He rubbed his dressed and ready-togo erection against her. “I want to compromise you right now—again.” He leaned down to kiss her, but she blocked his kiss, a look of horror on her face. It took a second, but he burst into laughter, realizing the problem—she knew where his mouth had been. He grabbed her chin, clenching his teeth as he forced her to look into his amused eyes. “Don’t worry, you’re even m-more dee-licious than I e-ver ee-magined. I promise.” With that, he smashed his lips

against hers and sloppily wet-kissed her until she quit howling for him to stop. Resolved to her fate, she quieted and closed her eyes. “Why do you enjoy grossing me out?” “You didn’t think it was ga-ross when your germs were only in my mouth.” He smirked. “That was your choice.” She pretended to try and get out of his hold, making him get an even better hold of her. “We should all be able to make our own choices.” “Does that mean you’re never going to return the favor?” He actually felt the sting of rejection.

It took her a minute to answer. She seemed to be thinking about it, but then her face lit up. “That sounds like you plan to do more of this in the future?” She arched one of her brows. “If it means you’ll keep me around, and stop talking your stupid talk about me leaving you, and being better off without you, then yes. I promise, I will return the favor, whenever you want.” He chose not to respond, but watched her with an evil grin on his face, instead. “It’s still your turn,” he said. “Still?” He chuckled. “Surely you noticed

how I left you hanging.” “I didn’t want you to stop. You did that on purpose? I wasn’t sure.” “You have so much to learn.” “Luckily you’re a great teacher.” He smirked and thrust himself inside of her. “Mm,” he grunted, and kissed her. “That, beautiful,” he kissed her again, “is the greatest feeling in the whole world! Not just getting inside a woman, but getting inside of you. It’s never been as good as this, never in twenty years.” “You’re just drunk.” The vacant, self-hatred look, the one she hated even more than the murderous

glare, stared back at her. “I’ve been drunk or high, pretty much since I got my brother killed. I’ve had a million women; sober, drunk, high —I’m telling you, it’s never been like this.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Without warning, he rolled so that he was on the bottom, her on top, without breaking their connection. “Now, you remember how it felt when I made out with your clitoris?” She didn’t answer, but she blushed, the brightest, reddest color he had ever seen on her. It made him laugh again. “This is not the time to be shy, Baby. I’m

all rebooted and ready to go, but I already nearly came again, because He was so jealous of my tongue.” His comment didn’t help to relieve the shock on her face. He didn’t really expect it to. “Don’t be embarrassed, just move. See if you can make yourself feel the way my tongue made you feel.” “I can’t!” Her eyes were full of fear or embarrassment. “You can, and you will, unless you plan to just stay like this forever.” “Um, based on the way you’ve been acting the past few days, I choose that option.” She bit her lower lip. He burst out laughing so hard, he came out of her.

“Shit! So much for forever, but the thought of it definitely intrigued me.” He fixed the problem. “There we go.” Straddling him, her hands leaning against his chest, she looked so beautiful, but she shook her head. She could be so stubborn sometimes. “Consider it your class assignment. Move.” He gripped her hips in his hands and manipulated her so that she had no choice. He closed his eyes and moaned with pleasure. “If you expect me to do this, you can’t close your eyes.” His eyes popped open, immediately. “There.” He smiled and resumed guiding her. “God, you feel so good . . . but this

isn’t supposed to be about me. How does it feel for you?” She shrugged, and he sighed. “I love you, Rhees.” His eyelids narrowed and he pulled her down to him so he could hold her closer. He brushed the hair from her face and showered kisses all over her mouth, neck, and jawline. “Maybe it’s too soon. You need more time. I really had hoped you could see how beautiful it is between us, you know? Because all you’ve ever known is the ugliness.” She put her hand over his mouth and buried her face in his neck. He didn’t know if she was just embarrassed, or if she was about to cry. He held her to him

and waited, but He throbbed inside her. “Aw, that selfish son of a bitch!” Paul mumbled, making her rise up again to see what was wrong. “Here I am trying to be all warm and fuzzy but all He ever wants to do is get off.” She giggled and relaxed more than she had since they’d started again. They stared into each other’s eyes until she took his face in her hands and kissed him. She didn’t stop and he gave back, caressing her body adoringly when she started to move on her own. “Are you getting close?” He finally had to tear his lips away from hers long enough to ask in a breathy gust.

“I don’t know, maybe.” “You’ll know. Trust me, you’ll know.” He resumed the kissing, but a few minutes later said, “I’m going to be there, soon. If you don’t make it, I’ll finish you off the other way, okay?” He kissed her again. “Shh,” she shushed him. “You talk too much. You’re breaking my concentration.” He huffed a laugh. “Don’t try too hard. Just let go and—” He didn’t finish his sentence. His head rolled back, his eyes clenched shut, and a long gravely breath came out of his wide, open mouth. She felt him shudder beneath her as he called out her name, over and over.

She turned her full attention to him, seeing him peak, come undone. It did something to her, as did the new sensations his writhing granted her. She gasped and grabbed him back. Her whole body began to quiver— just as his quivering came to an end. His body went lax, he was finished and needed to catch his breath, but she’d just started. He hung on for dear life. With one hand firmly around her waist and the other across the soft cheeks of her backside, he gritted his teeth and tried to manage her movements without disturbing her—but he was sure she was going to kill him—death by the greatest,

most intense sex he’d ever experienced. He took great pleasure in the way her breathing became nothing more than short, quick intakes and the tiniest of whimpers on the exhale. As she slowed and came to rest, her body went limp in his arms. He moved the hand from her bottom to the back of her neck and held her to him. They both took a deep breath and exhaled at the same time, fulfilled and content, as they lay quietly in each other’s arms. “Next lesson, let’s work on coming together, okay?” He tried not to laugh, still almost hurting from how long she’d compelled him to extend his delivery.

She lifted her head to look at him with hope. “I like the way it sounded when you said, ‘Next time’. Does that mean—” He frowned, cutting her off from finishing. “If I remember this in the morning, I guarantee I won’t be letting you go anywhere.” Rhees lifted her head to look at him, the wheels spinning. “How drunk are you, right now?” He snickered and reached above his head to grab the bottle. He had to break their connection to sit up and take another drink. She sat up too, and snatched the bottle from him before he

knew what she planned to do. She crawled to the edge of the deck and poured it out into the water. “Do you know what you’ve just done? To the environment?” She cringed with worry. She’d grown to love and respect the ocean. “That was sta-rong stuff! Now every fish within a fifty foot er-radius is going to get arrested for DUI, diving under the influence.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you don’t drink anymore, you’ll remember this in the morning.” She started putting her clothes back on. He tied off the condom and stuck it in his pocket with the other one.

“I think that Porgy has already chugged.” “What?” “That ship has already sailed, but the Porgy doesn’t sail, it chugs, and I was beyond remembering anything before the Porgy brought me back.” She watched him fumbling to get his clothes back on, and sadly, knew he was probably right. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let any of this happen just now. I-I just—” “You didn’t like it?” He reached for her and took her face between his hands, studying her eyes. “I didn’t just set you back—like annihilate any kind of therapeutic progress or something, did

I?” “No!” Rhees scoffed. “I loved it—I love you! And getting what happened to me, out in the open, has been very good for me. I wish I hadn’t spent my whole life trying to keep it hidden.” She sighed with regret. “These last few weeks . . . I’ve learned a lot about myself. The most important thing is that—it’s different— tonight was—” She paused, thinking it through. “There is definitely a difference between what happened to me as a child —against my will—and what happened with you and I in the dressing room, and especially, just now.

“I want to talk about that with you. I think I’m even ready to talk about that with Keene, but I won’t go see him alone. You’ll have to come with me, or you can bring him back down here, but we are not separating. Not until you stop this ridiculous campaign about doing the right thing and sending me away so I can marry someone else—that is horse crap, Paul. We stick together, do you hear me?” “Horse crap?” he mumbled. He’d fallen back on the mat and listened with an amused grin. “You’re beautiful, and I love you! You know that? I wish I had another condom. I can run back to my apartment and grab a few more—” he

paused, “—I’m still pissed, by the way. I can’t believe you gave up your apartment. You’re making this too hard.” “I don’t understand why you’re so angry about it, so angry that you’d take off and leave me alone all night—wait— making it too hard to what?” Her fears resurfaced. “I’m making it too hard to keep your love nest—sex pad— whatever it’s called? What? Am I putting a kink in your lifestyle? You can’t be sneaking all your girlfriends in there anymore, because now you’ll have to worry the wife might be home, instead of sitting around, blissfully stupid, at her own apartment?” “What? Sex pad? Where do you

come up with these things? What girlfriends?” “Ronnie!” she sneered on the name, showing her distaste for his choice in women. “I saw the way you flirted with her yesterday. I saw you flash your beautiful smile, and that twinkly, winkly eye-thingy you do.” He’d grown guiltily quiet. “Oh my gosh!” She watched him, waiting for him, expecting him to deny it, but he did nothing except lie there, looking guilty. “I would so like to punch you in the face right now, but I’ll wait and let the alcohol do it for me in the morning.” She stormed to the gazebo, yanked

down another mat, and rolled it out, away from him. It wasn’t her mat, but what she thought he’d done concerned her more at the moment than any germs. It would be good therapy, she thought, another fear to face, head on. She’d made a connection between her fear of germs and the dirty house where the assault had happened. Refusing to let the incident rule any more of her life than it had, she wanted to work on calling a truce with the microscopic organisms. Morning was right around the corner. She could last an hour and a half. “What are you doing?” Paul sounded hurt. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Good night, Paul.” “Rhees? Baby. Dani Girrrl.” He sounded absolutely dismal, sitting dejectedly, as he called to her from his own mat. “Go to sleep.” “I can’t. Not without you.” He started crawling toward her. “You get any closer, I’ll bite you.” “Sounds good to me.” He didn’t stop his stealthy approach. “Sexxxy.” “I’ll bite He!” “Why are you being so mean?” Paul stopped advancing on her and made a face of anguish. “I just want to be near you.”

“Think about that the next time you think you should drive me away.” He sulked back to his mat and sat staring at her like a lost little boy, but she turned her back on him in selfdefense. If she had to keep looking at him, she’d give in, and crawl back into his arms for sure. Eventually he stopped cooing her name and trying to change her mind. The alcohol won, and he finally fell asleep. She’d overestimated her courage against the germs. To keep her mind occupied, she concentrated on everything except how her skin crawled . . . and her infuriating husband. She almost gave up on sleep in favor of

another shower, but she liked the lingering scent of Paul on her. She didn’t ever want to wash it off.

Chapter 22 hees woke to the sounds of a woman’s voice, a woman’s voice calling Paul’s name, and giggling. “What are you doing here so early?”

Rhees lifted her head off the mat to glare at Ronnie, who knelt over Paul, tickling his nose with her hair. “I’m on tank duty, but the boss is asleep on the job.” Ronnie tickled his nose again, making Paul swat at her hair in his sleep. “You’re too new for tank duty . . . aw crap,” Rhees almost yelled, sitting up, abruptly. She watched Ronnie put her face down a little too close to Paul’s and whisper something in his ear. “The tanks are around back, not in my husband’s face.” Rhees did her best impression of Mr. Meanie-head. Ronnie stood and exaggerated her

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notice of the separate sleeping arrangements, but she didn’t say anything —she didn’t need to. “Wait for me at the compressor,” Rhees barked. As soon as Ronnie walked around the corner, out of hearing range, she kicked Paul’s leg, not as hard as she wanted to, but it made him stir. “You put that—that new girl on tank duty?” she asked, trying to keep her voice down, but not quite managing it. Paul squinted, trying to wake up and make sense of what she was talking about. He sat up very slowly and rubbed his face. “Do you have to scream? I have a headache.”

“I didn’t scream—maybe I did . . . I’m sorry about your head.” She remembered her comment the night before about letting the alcohol hit him in the face. It didn’t give her any satisfaction to be right about that. “Do you want some aspirin?” Paul glanced at the other mat, and then back to her. “I was that bad, huh?” he asked with remorse. “You actually slept on that dirty mat—to get away from me?” “Go back to sleep. I’m taking care of tank duty today, me and Ronnie, Miss Whore-ible.” “What? Why is she so horrible?” “I was thinking an entirely different

kind of whore.” Rhees glanced down as she muttered the words. “Oh.” He chuckled, but then winced. She knew the brief laugh had to have pounded his head. “Why did you put her on tank duty? She’s too new.” Rhees looked off over the water. It came out whinier than she’d wanted. “I didn’t. What’s she done to get you so worked up?” “You don’t remember? You weren’t even drunk at the time.” Rhees pinched her lips together, waiting for it to hit him. It never did, or he never let on, if it did. He just sat and looked at her as if he expected her to explain what he should

be explaining. “You put her on tank duty so you could be alone with her.” “No, I didn’t.” “Yes, you did. She has the hots for you.” “So, she has a crush.” He looked confused. “We deal with that sort of thing all the time.” “She’s different. The others back off when they realize we’re together. She hasn’t.” He lay back down and rubbed his temples. “She’s not different. There’s nothing to worry about.” “I don’t like it. You and her on tank duty, together.” “Rhees, you’re overreacting.” He

scrubbed his face with his hands and made annoyed, growly sounds. “I’m really not in the mood for this. I’m not interested in her, and it’s not like you’re not here every morning, too. I don’t remember scheduling her, but she’s a paying student, so let it drop, okay?” “What do you remember?” Rhees watched him suffering, trying to rub the pain from his head. “—About last night?” “Not a damned thing.” Rhees looked out over the water again, she felt disappointed at that. It would be easier if Paul remembered, easier to know if he thought it was a good thing or not. She didn’t know if she

should tell him. “Rhees?” he said, calling her from her thoughts. “I . . . um, I spoke to Keene on the office phone again, yesterday, before I left for the mainland. He told me more about the facility. He works there a couple days a week. They have doctors there, around the clock. It sounds really nice—” “What?” She did shriek that time. “You are not having me committed. I was sexually assaulted as a child—I’m not mentally ill! How could you even think—” “No!” He jumped to his feet and landed at her side in one graceful motion, but she stepped away, not

wanting him near her. “It’s just a place you can stay while you work this out and get professional help. You’d be safe. I wouldn’t have to worry about you.” “No! You just want to get rid of me so you can hook up with Ronnie.” He growled but looked too guilty about the accusation, again. “I’ll go start the compressor,” she said and marched off. oOo Paul didn’t dive, but he tagged along on the boat because Rhees did. She’d become an excellent diver, but he always felt better being near when she dived, of course, he’d never let her

know that. The divers were just starting to pop up after the last dive of the day, and Paul finally breathed relief when Rhees and her dive buddy-student, Gio, broke the surface. The current was a little stronger than usual, so Paul had thrown the line for the divers to hang on to while they waited for their turn on the ladders.

Rhees had just grabbed a hold of the rope, made sure Gio grabbed hold too, and turned to look at the boat, trying to judge how long the wait would be. It was going to be a while. Khafid, a newbie with only seven dives under his

belt, struggled to get his fins off, and was taking longer than most experienced divers would find necessary. When he had finally just handed Paul his second fin and started to pull himself up, Ronnie grabbed the ladder. “Excuse me,” she said, and Khafid, without thinking, let go. He and his heavy gear fell backward, becoming helpless in the water without fins. Because of the current, he floundered several feet away from the boat while the gap grew by the second. Rhees had witnessed it and put her regulator back in her mouth, ready to help him, but Paul was in the water before anyone else realized what had happened. He swam,

while pushing Khafid back toward the boat until they were both securely on the ladder, and Paul had helped him climb into the boat. When everyone was finally out of the water, no one, especially Khafid, enjoyed Paul’s lecture about never letting go of the ladder once they’ve removed their fins, and the dangers of being behind a diver exiting the water. “More accidents happen while surfacing and getting back on the boat than any other part of the dive,” he continued to teach. “You’re not going anywhere, all geared up, without fins, and—” he glared at Ronnie, “never get behind a diver exiting the water. He

could have fallen on you, hit your head with his tank.” Ronnie didn’t seem to mind the attention. She just smiled and batted her lashes as if she enjoyed being singled out by him. He turned to the rest of the divers. “Do you hear me? Wait your turn, and stay back until the ladder is clear.” oOo “Okay, so there is something wrong with Ronnie, but I didn’t schedule her for tank duty. I was on the mainland all afternoon, remember?” Paul managed to sneak up on Rhees while they put gear away.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Rhees happily apologized, simply for the fact that he was speaking to her, and not trying to avoid her at every turn. “But she’s not only a little too shameless about wanting your attention—Paul, her ego makes her dangerous to the other students.” “It was just a stupid mistake. It won’t happen again after my lecture.” “I think she’ll do it again—” Rhees sighed, “—just to get your attention.” “Rhees, she’s a paying student.” “I thought I was the naïve one.” She sighed, a little too aggressively, but then she forced herself to calm down. “How’s your headache?”

“Like I’ve been punched in the face, a hundred times.” She looked down to hide the smirk, but he noticed. “What is it?” She shrugged, innocently, but then gave up any feelings of satisfaction. “Come on. I think I can help.” She took his hand and led him to the table under the gazebo where she gestured for him to sit. She went to work massaging his neck and shoulders. “That feels amazing.” He melted at her touch. “So, how did Operation Emergency Engine Rescue go last night?” she asked while she kneaded his muscles.

Paul’s face contorted into a troubled mess before he looked out over the ocean. “I don’t know.” oOo Rhees walked into the office. Claire sat at her computer. “Claire? What were you thinking when you put Ronnie on tank duty?” Claire turned. “I wanted to stick it to that wanker, that’s what.” “Claire!” Rhees sighed. “You put her on tank duty! With Paul.” “I’m sorry!” Claire almost gasped. “I didn’t think of that. Oh, Rhees, I’m so sorry.” Rhees nodded.

“It was a mistake. I’m on your side, Sweet.” “I know. I don’t want her here any more than you do. Let’s get her certified as soon as possible so she can get out of our hair.” “Good luck with that. People come to the island, and they never leave.” “I’ve noticed. Tracy said she came planning to stay for three months, Christian one. Then there’s me.” They both laughed, until they sighed, remembering their problem with Ronnie. oOo “I’m going to go grab a shower.” Paul walked through the office where

Rhees and Claire both sat at their computers. He hoped it would do him some good to get cleaned up. He needed some help. He turned the shower on, slid his shorts down from the night before, and noticed the smell. He paused to think about it. He shook his head and stepped into the cold water. When he finished, he turned the water off, grabbed a towel, quickly rubbed it over his hair and then wrapped it around his waist. He reached into the pocket of his dirty trunks to grab his wallet and noticed something that made his breath hitch. He recognized the feel but didn’t have the memory to make sense of it. His

mouth twitched before pulling two used condoms from the pocket. He stared at the offending tokens of his drunken affair for an uncommonly long time. “What have I done?” He closed his eyes, shook his head, pursed his lips a few times, and then leaned over the toilet and vomited. He hadn’t thrown up from a hangover in twelve years—he’d still hang to that claim—it wasn’t the hangover that had made him throw up. He rinsed his mouth, stumbled to the couch and flopped himself down. He flung his arm over his eyes and groaned, not because of how miserable he felt, physically. He spent the next fifteen minutes trying to piece together the bits

and pieces of his memory of the night before. He remembered the mainland, The Tow’d’s engine parts, the mechanic, dinner, drinks . . . more drinks, dancing. He remembered dancing with girls— that’s the point where things grew fuzzy. He groaned again because he did remember dancing . . . but not with his wife. “Fuck.” oOo Paul hurried, but didn’t go back to the shop. He went next door to find Randy sitting on the small deck at his house.

“What happened last night?” The creases between Paul’s eyes grew extra deep. “Din’t your mama ever teach you ta knock?” “Sorry,” Paul said. “Now, what happened?” “You got drunk, mon. You were plowed.” “I know that. My head hasn’t let me miss that point. But what happened?” “You got drunk. I tell you we got ta get home but you never lis’n ta me. You’re dancin’ with lot a women.” “Anything else?” Paul’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Did I . . . did you see me doing anything . . .

compromising?” “No mon. I didn’t see you doin’ that. Not this time.” Randy laughed. “Not for a long time. You’re just dancin’.” Paul closed his eyes and pursed his lips. He didn’t feel comforted by the report. He’d found used condoms in his pocket. “Where’d I go when we got back?” “I got you ta the shop. It wasn’ easy. It was late. My wife’s very mad. That’s why I’m sitting out here, ya know?” “I’m sorry.” Paul reached for his wallet and pulled it out. “Buy her something nice. Flowers?” “She’s madder than flowers, mon.” Randy was serious. “I paid for the taxi

too. You were really plowed, mon.” Paul opened his wallet to find it empty. It confused him. He knew he’d had two hundred dollars in there when he’d left the day before. The mechanic couldn’t have taken all of it. “You were tippin’ all the waitress ladies at the bar. That’s why I had ta pay for the taxi.” Paul led Randy to the office. It was a stroke of luck that neither Rhees nor Claire happened to be there at the moment. He pulled the petty cash box from the safe and started counting out money. Frustrated, he gave up and just handed Randy everything in the box. “Will that help?”

Randy stared at the six hundred dollars in his hand. “Yeah, mon. The wife’s not goin’ ta be mad t’night.” Paul leaned over the counter and whispered again. “Are you sure I didn’t do something—anything?” “I didn’t see you doin’ any-ting like that.” Randy leaned right back, showing he understood what Paul referred to. “I’d’ve given you what for, if I had. Your wife’s fam’ly. Don’t take kindly to that sort of ting.” oOo Paul walked around the corner to the deck and found Rhees sitting at the table in the gazebo, reading. He leaned against

the building and watched her, debating what he should do. He didn’t want to tell her. He knew the look it would put on her face, and the image of it in his head, the hurt, the thought killed him. In spite of her declaration that it didn’t matter, cheating on her was probably the only reason she would ever leave him. Maybe that is exactly what he needed. The thought made him sad enough to cry. “If I have to hear that awful sound again, I’m going to scream!” Ronnie yelled. She sat at the other end of the gazebo, reading her manual. Everyone looked up to see the problem. Rhees’ stomach growled again.

Ronnie didn’t really scream, but she groaned irritably. She got up and marched over to Paul. “Rhees’ growly stomach is driving me absolutely crazy. I cannot be held responsible if I hurt her.” She stomped off to one of the hammocks. “Rhees?” He made his way over to her with concern. “When was the last time you ate?” She seemed reluctant to answer. “Yesterday.” “Yesterday, at lunch?” It was the last time they’d eaten together. His jaw set and his mouth twitched. It took all his reserve to speak calmly. “Why didn’t you have dinner?”

“Because you left me.” She hung her head, not necessarily in shame, but likely because she hated the way he looked at her. It was his turn to drop his head. He stared at the deck floor for an uncomfortable few seconds, trying to keep his cool. He massaged the back of his neck, but then he reached for her arm and pulled, a little too roughly, not because he was angry with her. He was just so angry with himself. “Come on.” She gave him a foul, disbelieving look, and tried to free herself, but he dragged her away. “Let go,” she said quietly,

embarrassed in front of everyone on the deck. “We’re getting you something to eat.” “I’m not hungry.” He dragged her across the Plank and past several of their favorite lunch spots close to the shop. “You’re hurting me,” she finally let him know. He let go as fast as he could. “I’m sorry,” he said, holding his hands up, mortified, and searching her eyes for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never intentionally hurt you.” She stubbornly folded her arms and waited for him to open his eyes. When

he did, they stared at each other until her stomach rumbled again. He groaned out a frustrated sigh. “What am I supposed to do with you?” he asked. His eyes skirted around, looking at everything and anything except her. “One minute you insist that you don’t need help, that you can function, but the next minute, you can’t even get yourself a fucking bite to eat.” “I am perfectly capable of feeding myself!” she yelled. Another hunger pang made itself known and he tilted his head to show how she’d just proved him right. “You left me. You didn’t say how long you’d be gone. You didn’t tell me to

have dinner without you. You didn’t bother to make arrangements for me— you always make arrangements for me. By the time I realized you were never coming back, it was late, and I just didn’t feel like eating at that point.” The volume in her voice steadily increased. “You didn’t tell me the plan. You didn’t say a darned thing. Apparently my mindreading skills must have been on the fritz, because I didn’t know what the heck you were thinking, or doing—or if you were ever coming back.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan to be out so late—or get drunk.” “I’m sorry I didn’t eat.”

“I really did expect to be back. I didn’t mean to just leave you hanging.” “I’m sorry I moved out of Oceanside the way I did. I should have discussed it with you first. We should make those kinds of decisions together.” “I overreacted.” “Ya think?” she snapped at him, putting their apology-fest to an abrupt end. “I’ve told you I don’t want you in my bed—” Her stomach interrupted him. He gestured that they start walking again. “You need food.” “I’m really not hungry, in spite of what my stomach says, I don’t think I could keep anything down.”

He looked off again. “You’ve lost a lot of weight.” She shrugged, telling him she didn’t care. “You haven’t been eating well since the . . .” He put his hands on his hips and looked down. “The wedding,” Rhees said. It hurt that he couldn’t even say it. He nodded. “Diving burns a lot of calories—maybe if you take a bite or two, you’ll realize you’re hungry after all.” Gloom suddenly washed over the cross expression he’d been wearing. “We need to talk. Can we please just go sit down somewhere quiet?” She didn’t like the way he was

acting. It scared her. “Okay,” she mouthed. She’d meant to say it louder but she couldn’t get any sound to come out. She nodded reluctantly and they resumed their walk along the main street. “In here,” he said, putting his hand on her lower back to guide her into a building. “Oscar’s? No one eats lunch here.” The place was one of the only bars open all day. They also billed themselves as a sandwich shop, but no one really ordered a sandwich until after they’d had a few drinks. “That’s why we will.” Rhees let him escort her inside. The

place was void of other humans except the bartender-waitress-sandwich maker. Paul led Rhees to the booth farthest from the bar to ensure the waitress wouldn’t hear their conversation. He motioned for Rhees to sit. When she did, he took the opposite side, sitting across from her. It didn’t feel right. He always sat next to her. The waitress showed up at the table immediately. “Hi,” she said, looking at Paul with a smile that seemed a little too enthusiastic. She started to say something to him, but then she looked at Rhees and lost her place. When she found it again, still staring at Rhees, she cast her eyes to the floor and smoothed

her hands down the front of her apron and cleared her throat. “Congratulations on your marriage.” Paul didn’t acknowledge her salutation or her comment. “Bring us two grilled cheese, and two Coronas with lime.” “I’ll have a shot of tequila and two Coronas,” Rhees chimed in. “Without lime.” “I ordered for both of us.” “Oh. You always order two.” “Not today. I was just going to have one to try and knock this hangover to a manageable level.” “Okay.” She shrugged. “I’ll drink your second one for you.” Her stomach

growled again, and Paul scowled at her. “Do you have anything you could bring her,” he said to the waitress without taking his eyes off Rhees. “Immediately, other than alcohol? She hasn’t eaten in a while.” “Hmm . . .” the waitress thought about the options. “Potato chips or pickles.” “Chips,” Paul said. “Are the pickles sliced or whole?” Rhees asked. Paul’s jaw set and she widened her eyes at him. “I like pickles!” “Spears,” the waitress answered. “Just bring her a damned pickle.” They didn’t say another word until

the waitress set the shot, the three bottles of beer, the chips, and the plate with a pickle, on the table and walked away. When Rhees reached for the shot of tequila, Paul pushed the plate with the pickle in front of her instead. “Eat first.” She ignored him and downed the shot before grabbing a beer and chugging half the bottle. A muscle in his cheek pulsed because he held his jaw clenched so tight. When she set the bottle back down, he glanced at the pickle, strongly suggesting with his expression that she eat it. She didn’t want to be the loser in their staring contest, but he knew how to

use his eyes better than she could ever hope to use hers. He turned up the intensity of his glare to colossal—he won. She grabbed the spear, and took a bite. He waited for her to finish it off, and in the meantime, he withdrew into himself. He still hadn’t taken a drink of his beer, but he played with the bottle, spinning it casually, staring at it. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he finally broke from his rumination. “I don’t want to. I’d rather pretend it didn’t happen. I’d rather pretend it’ll all go away, but I can’t do that to you. You deserve better—I keep telling you that—maybe now you’ll finally believe me.” He withdrew again

for a minute. She waited. “I honestly don’t remember, but.” He rolled his head from side to side, cracking his neck, stalling. She watched him as she took another long drink of her beer, finishing it off. “I—I’m so ashamed.” He turned, stuck his long legs out of the booth, and leaned forward on his knees with his head in his hands. He stammered. “I don’t know how to say it. I swear I—I didn’t think I’d ever—after the last few times, I sincerely believed, even drunk, I didn’t want anyone but you, but—” Again, at a loss for words, he tried another route. “I started carrying condoms again when we got back from

the capital—” “Two puppies. Just in case.” His eyes darted up to meet hers. He nodded slowly, surely wondering how she’d know that. She picked up her second beer and took a quick swig. “Because of what happened in the dressing room,” she continued. “And in Costa Rica, and because I’m not on the pill, which leads you to believe you could get me pregnant by just looking at me. Your eyes are quite magical, I’ll give you that, and I do believe they could be very instrumental in getting me preggo, but even I know it would take more than just a look.” He straightened himself back up, and

fidgeted nervously in his seat, trying to understand how she’d know that too. He looked confused, and vulnerable, which she thought, made him look so cute. She loved vulnerable Paul. She popped a potato chip into her mouth and washed it down with another swallow of her Corona. “What happened last night?” He’d leaned over the table to ask, looking like he’d just asked her to divulge a big secret. “I told you.” The reminder of what happened the day before also reminded her that she was still supposed to be mad at him. “You left me. You didn’t tell me the plan. I waited for you to come back.

You didn’t.” She paused briefly. “Probably wouldn’t have if Randy hadn’t dragged you home, kicking and screaming.” “What happened when I got back?” He cocked his head. She guzzled down the rest of the second beer, making him wait for the answer. She could tell he wasn’t happy about it. Between her empty stomach and the fast pace at which she downed all the alcohol, she already felt buzzed. She smirked, then reached for the extra beer, the one he’d ordered for her, but he grabbed it before she could, sliding it out of her reach. “Rhees?”

“Give it back. You said you only wanted one.” He spun the glare dial to colossal again, but she looked away to avoid getting caught up in its power. “Maybe if you give it back, I’ll tell you about last night.” He reluctantly slid the bottle into her waiting hand, but then watched her expectantly, waiting for her to answer his question. She picked up the bottle and glared defiantly, letting more of the amber liquid slide down her throat. She wanted to let him know that she wouldn’t always choose to give in to his bossiness—she didn’t really mind his domineering, take charge, take-no-bull

personality—most of the time, but right now, she felt the need to make a point. She set the bottle down a little harder than she intended. “Whoa!” She giggled. “The table jus moobed.” She knew she’d just slurred, but she didn’t feel that drunk. “Shoot.” Her eyes darted to his to see if he’d noticed. “The table just moved,” she repeated, accentuating the T and the V. “Rhees!” Paul scolded. She was in one of her feisty moods, making her too cute, and adorable, and making him lose focus, but she’d given

him a glimmer of hope. He needed to know what she knew. Regardless of how much he felt the urge to kiss her right then, he didn’t like how fast she’d consumed so much alcohol on an empty stomach. His frustration about his predicament was starting to get to him as much as he thought the alcohol was getting to her. “Okay, okay.” She leaned forward to make sure he paid attention. “I moobed out of my apartment. You got so flippin’ m-mad, you left me, because it threw a wrench in your whole bash-e-lor pad thingy—” He started to interject, but she held up her finger to stop him. “You see, I know this because you and your new

girlfriend, the ever whore-ible erRonnie, were fa-lirting with each other, right in front of me, as well as everyone else at the sh-shop—” “No,” he successfully stopped her that time. “Ronnie is not my girlfriend. I didn’t mean to use her to hurt you—no, that’s not true.” He sighed, angry with himself and flustered, trying to explain it. “That’s exactly what I was trying to do. I’m sorry. You were just so beautiful, running out to make me feel better. I wanted you to make me feel better, but I still haven’t figured it out—shit! I need to stop talking.” “Yeah,” she said. “So, you left. You

decided you’d rather get da-runk out of your mind than be with me, until Randy forced you back.” He set his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his hand. Two fingers on his forehead, his thumb against his cheek, and he used his other two fingers to hide behind, because he felt the urge to crawl under a rock and wait out the rest of his newly complicated life. “So what happened when I got back?” He hated to ask. “We argued, you drank more, you sang the song we danced to—your voice is nice. I can’t believe you’ve never sung to me before—but anyway, then you

groped me, you lied, telling me how much you loved me, even though you confessed about how you don’t want me wasting myself on you. I cried, you almost cried, told me to marry someone else so we both wouldn’t have to go to hell, but then you drank some more, and told me I was beautiful, and then . . .” She looked up at him through her lashes and smiled as if she’d finally found a way to exact some sort of revenge. “Then we bumped bellies.” Paul felt every muscle in his body relax, but then, he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or alarmed. “Twice!” She giggled and drank more beer, enjoying herself, watching as

he ran his mouth through its anxious ticks. “And jus to be clear, Mr. HandilyHonest-When-He’s-Da-runk. If you want me out of your life—you’ll just have to man up and make that happen all by yourself. I am nawt going to help you.” She took another drink of her beer. His head dropped back and he looked up at the ceiling before closing his eyes, wondering why he couldn’t keep his mouth shut around her. He knew he talked more when he was drunk, was more likely to say things he wouldn’t say, sober, but he’d never had his drunken confessions come back to haunt him the way they did with Rhees.

He could only think of one other time, when he’d stupidly told Mitch his secret. Mitch only asked about it once after they’d sobered up, and his questions assured Paul that Mitch didn’t know anything other than he’d said, I killed someone. Rhees was the only one who knew what happened to his brother. Despite Mitch’s knowledge, or lack of knowledge, about it, he’d been a loyal friend, even though Paul had never bothered to correct his friend’s assumption that he was running from the law for manslaughter, or possibly even murder. It wasn’t the threat of going to prison keeping him from returning home, or anywhere east of the Mississippi. He

couldn’t risk going anyplace where Angelo had any influence. Doing so would only put everyone he knew in danger. The waitress interrupted his dark thoughts by bringing their sandwiches, and asking if they needed anything else. Paul told her they were fine, but Rhees ordered another beer. Rhees must have noticed how exasperated her order made him. “Juicy crisis, Paul!” she yelled. “You can be such a hypocrite!” Paul didn’t think he’d quite caught what she’d said, but he finally covered his face again and hid behind his hand. His hand wasn’t enough to hide his

convulsing chest and shoulders, a dead giveaway. “You’re laughing at me,” she accused, narrowing her eyes at him. He laughed even louder. He didn’t want to be laughing at the moment, but the more he tried to stop, the harder he laughed. It took him several minutes to finally get it under control, despite the angry glare Rhees had locked on him during his outburst. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said, gripping his cheeks, trying to squeeze the threatening smile into submission and prevent another eruption. “Do what?” she fumed, her glare still frosty. “I’m not allowed to vent my

fa-rus-stration now, eee-ther?” “Say shit—I mean—stuff like that,” he implored. “I can’t possibly be expected to carry on a serious conversation with you when you say things like, juicy crisis? Come on, give me a break.” “You made me promise I wouldn’t curse,” she said coolly. “I’m trying to keep that promise, but if you’d rather I just said the real—” “No!” he cut her off. He rubbed the back of his neck, no longer trying to hide how humorous he thought it all was. “Keep your promise. It might be the only thing we can count on to keep us from

killing each other.” He almost laughed again. “Wait. What do you mean, either?” “I also promised I wouldn’t run away anymore, so I thought I’d try drowning my sorrows instead.” She’d stopped slurring, suddenly very solemn and direct. “I learned that from you. You call me the runner, but you run away from everything that makes you the tiniest bit uncomfortable.” “I don’t run,” he said, offended. “I’m right here.” “Bull-oney!” He closed his eyes; the effort to not laugh again strained his reserve. “There’s nothing unusual about that

one.” “Yeah, there is. Most people just say ba-loney.” He emphasized the ‘ba’ instead of ‘bull’. Rhees made a production of rolling her eyes. “You ran last night,” she whispered, watching herself fidget with her hands. “I need to get that damned boat running again,” he said, incredulously. “You know that.” “The mechanic fixed the part. You stayed after the fact, and drank yourself stupid . . . because you didn’t want to come back to me.” “You’ve got that wrong,” he said quietly. “I wanted nothing more than to

get back to you. I drank because I didn’t think I should want to so badly.” “I’m not the one who’s sick,” she said, rolling her eyes again. He scrubbed his face with his hands. oOo Paul moved to her side of the booth and started handfeeding her because she refused to eat after getting herself worked up again. She made him take a bite for every bite she took, but they finished off both sandwiches. “Feel better?” he asked. “Yes, I like it mush better when you sit closh to me.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and he didn’t pull

away. “That too, but I might have been referring to your attempt to run away, by running toward the alcohol,” he said, noticing the slur of her words. “But I was asking about your stomach.” “You e-like stomachs.” She giggled. “I thought you e-liked booobs.” “I’m a guy.” He chuckled quietly. He was still reeling a bit from the new revelation about the night before. Having sex with her again went completely against his well-thought-out plan—the plan to drive her away—for her own good, but learning he hadn’t betrayed her, it left him feeling almost giddy. “We’re all geared to like boobs,” he

said with a grin. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t have a thing for other body parts too.” “And your thing is bellies,” she giggled again, and he nodded at the truth. The waitress brought her another beer, but Rhees slid the bottle to Paul. “You have this one.” “I’m glad you don’t want it.” He couldn’t hide his relief. “You’re pretty tipsy already.” “That’s not why I want you to have it.” She grinned, mischievously. “Oh?” “You’re more fun when you’re darunk.” “I know, lately. I’m sorry.” He

thought for a minute, shifting to serious again. “Rhees? Last night, did I . . . force myself on you, again?” “Nooo.” Her lips formed an O for effect as she drew the word out. “You didn’t the first time ee-ther. I keeep telling you that.” “I honestly can’t decide whether to be appalled with myself, or relieved.” The crease between his brows deepened. He remembered how sick he’d felt before she told him he’d used the condoms with her. No matter how much he believed she’d be better off with someone else, he had no desire to be that man, no desire to hurt her that way. He had no desire, whatsoever, to

be with anyone else. “When I found two used condoms in my pocket this morning, it made me sick to my stomach. Rhees, I never think about anyone but you. Every thought, every fantasy— even my wet dreams—” He stopped abruptly, embarrassed about admitting that last bit. “I didn’t understand how I could have possibly cheated on you—” “You definitely did not cheat me out of anything.” She giggled. “You’re a good teacher—ex-cell-en-te! Muy bueno! Orgasms are the best, greatest, most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt in my whole freakin’ ly-ife!” He gaped at her, conflicted, until he

finally shook his head again and grinned, ear to ear. “So I actually called it bumping bellies, huh? Aloud? I’ve never called it that to anyone before, kind of my own personal visualization. You have the most perfect, tempting, adorably sexy belly.” “Mine? My belly has this pooooch.” She looked down and pulled her T-shirt up. “No matter how much I suck it in— it’s far from perr-fect.” “Crap! Rhees, put your shirt down.” He reached to help her, jerking it down. He leaned in and whispered, “Your belly is excellente. I’ve wanted to spend time there, lay my head on it, rub it—kiss it. Damn! I can’t be thinking about this.” He

scooted away a few inches. She grinned like a lunatic. “You have a pretty sexy belly too.” “I thought you liked my Adam’s apple.” “That was bee-fore we bumped bellies.” She sniggered and her gaze dropped to his stomach. “That eight pack you got goin’ on . . . whoa!” He grinned and looked bashful, but then the crease between his eyes made another appearance. “So . . . you’re okay with it? I didn’t freak you out, hurt you . . . or something?” She exhaled her frustration but then pushed the new beer a little closer to

him. “Drink this and there’s a chance we can do it again.” She tapped the bottle, smiling and leaning toward him, trying to look seductive. That definitely helped him to stop smiling, and it made her frown. “Honestly, Paul. You’d be a lot more fun if you’d just drink.” “I’m thinking about cutting back on the drinking again. Last night shouldn’t have happened—it wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been so stupid. If I hadn’t been so drunk . . . it can’t change anything.” Paul killed the lighter mood they’d started to enjoy, his conscience getting the best of

him—reality had set in again. Paul did his best to avoid looking at her. She, on the other hand, didn’t stop looking at him, lovingly, at first, but then the worry, concern, regret—every sad emotion he could imagine, took over, breaking his heart. They sat silently for too long and she’d finally turned her gaze to a picture hanging on the wall on the other side of the bar. Her eyes had glazed over and he wasn’t certain if it was the alcohol or the topic. “I really wish I could see the Loch Ness Monster,” she finally said out of nowhere. Paul waited for the punch line, but she didn’t say another word.

“What does the Loch Ness Monster have to do with anything?” She shrugged. “I just wish I could see it, that’s all—or Bigfoot—I’d settle for seeing Bigfoot.” He laughed, shaking his head in surrender. “I think you need sleep.” oOo “You didn’t sleep any more than I did last night,” Rhees said after Paul told her he’d like her to take a nap. He’d even put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye to convey his concern about her condition. “I’m used to drunken binges on little to no sleep. Three beers and a shot are

about to do you in.” He flashed his crooked grin and it was all she could do not to swoon. “And I need to see about getting that engine part back on The Tow’d.” “I’m not that drunk.” She thought the alcohol had already started to wear off, but she was tired. An hour and a half of sleep wasn’t enough. His sexy smile morphed into a stern, warning look. “Okay, dad. I’ll take a nap.” He grinned at her jab, but walked on toward the deck, not noticing her turn off into the office to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. When she came around the corner a few seconds later, onto the

deck, Ronnie stood behind Paul, massaging his shoulders and he looked to be enjoying it, all too much. “Hey! Babe,” Rhees said loudly, her tone dripped with derision. He turned Rhees’ direction and was surprised to see her standing—not behind him. He jerked around and looked at Ronnie as if seeing a ghost. “I saw Rhees give you a massage earlier,” Ronnie explained, not missing a beat, “and I thought you looked like you could use another.” She turned to Rhees patronizingly—the girl didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. “Be a good girl and go get Paul some aspirin. Poor baby has a headache.”

Rhees didn’t move a muscle. She looked at Ronnie, then Paul, and tilted her head at him. He looked as stunned as Rhees felt. “I thought it was you,” he grasped at a defense. “You were right behind me.” “Poor baby,” Ronnie said. She pressed her bikini-clad body against Paul’s back while giving Rhees a smug, challenging look. “You’re obviously not very sensitive to his needs. If you really cared about him, you’d go get the aspirin, like I asked, instead of yelling so close to him, and making his head feel worse.” “Ronnie. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need your help. Thanks,” Paul

said, stepping away and turning to face her. He used far more restraint than Rhees thought he would—should—or felt comfortable with. “Are you sure?” Ronnie reached up and seductively brushed her fingers down Paul’s neck and across his collarbone. “I thought you were enjoying it, you know, when you leaned affectionately into my hands . . . and moaned, a second ago.” He glanced nervously at Rhees before giving Ronnie another confused —but not harsh look—it made Rhees’ blood boil that it wasn’t harsh. Paul was not the kind of man to have trouble being harsh when appropriate, and harsh, in

this instance, was warranted. She was positive of that. “Well, I’ll be around, if you change your mind.” Ronnie sashayed away, making whore eyes at him as she went. He stared, his mouth agape, again, until Rhees pushed it closed for him with her finger. She gave him an angry, bug-eyed look, and walked off toward the bathroom. All he could do was give her a, what did I do, look. oOo Rhees made it to the gazebo, but didn’t see her mat. She ran through her memory. She definitely remembered seeing Paul putting both mats away when

he got up that morning. She looked around. A few people lay scattered around the deck, on other mats. She looked to see who might be brazen enough to dare use hers. It only took a second to find the answer. Ronnie had rolled it out and was just about to sit down and make herself comfortable. “Do you see what it says on that mat?” Rhees shrieked. Rhees didn’t realize how loud she’d spoken, but not one eye failed to look over at the commotion. Ronnie looked down at the writing on the mat and shrugged. “It says it’s Paul’s, but he won’t

mind if I use it.” “I mind.” Again, Rhees’ raised voice reached every ear on deck. Ronnie glanced around, looked at Rhees, looked Paul’s direction and actually seemed to ask for his help with her eyes. Rhees shot him a glance, daring him to choose Ronnie over her. He cautiously headed their direction. “Paul got it for me. It’s ours. We are the only ones who use it.” “He was on it this morning, alone. You were on another one. The line between what’s yours, and what’s not, seems a little blurred to me.” Ronnie tilted her head, implying how she knew more about their marital problems than

the couple had been letting on. “Paul’s mine.” “Calm down, Rhees.” Paul rested his hand gently on her back and guided her to sit on the mat. “Tell her you’re mine.” She tried to put her arms around his neck, but he grabbed her hands and lay her down. His brows knit together as he knelt over her and spoke close to her ear. “Please take a nap.” “He’s mine—like I’m his.” She glared at Ronnie and then turned back to Paul. “I’m yours. No one else has ever —” Paul put his finger over her lips and shushed her gently. Rhees had staggered

him. It had been a while since he’d thought of it that way, that he was her one and only. He didn’t deserve the gift —but damn, if the idea didn’t make his male ego swell. “You need rest.” “But she’s trying to steal—” “Shh . . .” he said again, and whispered, “she’s a paying student. You’re drunk. You’re tired. Get some sleep, please?” “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Show her you belong to me.” He flinched, torn between doing what he wanted to do, and doing what he thought was right. He kissed her on the forehead.

Chapter 23 aul stopped abruptly when he came around the corner and not only noticed, but overheard a group of men, two of his students, and three other men. He knew

Micah from Rick’s shop, but he’d never seen the other two. “What I would give to bury my face in those tits,” one of the men he didn’t know said. “How does she do that?” the other stranger asked. “That’s hot as hell.” Micah, Gio, and Adrian gave each other nervous looks. “You guys have a death wish,” Gio said. “No one talks about her like that, ever! No matter how much they might think about it, no one says it aloud.” Paul glanced around the deck to find the inspiration for their uncouth comments, but he found Rhees on the north corner of the deck with a group of

P

school-aged girls. It shouldn’t have surprised him, it was Tuesday, but with everything going on, dance club had slipped his mind. Rhees happened to be demonstrating a belly roll, wearing nothing but a skimpy, white bikini he’d never seen before. No camisole coverup. It wasn’t like her to parade around in so little. She’d been driving him crazy with all her new clothes. The joke he’d hoped to play on her, by nearly buying out the store, had backfired. So far, Rhees had looked great in everything she’d worn, and it was getting harder and harder not to ogle. She turned a full circle, working her

hips, and rolling her stomach as she went, very carefully exaggerating the moves . . . so the girls could see clearly. He lost his train of thought for a second, until the men’s conversation helped him remember what he wanted to do. “We should get out of here,” Adrian said, anxiously. “I value my life. Let’s go grab something to drink before Pa—” His friend had interrupted him with a throaty growl inspired by Rhees’ next move. “Shiit!” the second stranger exclaimed, practically drooling. “What that girl can do with those hips, imagine her on top. What she could do with a coc —”

The man was unable to finish his sentence because of the fist down his throat. “That’s my wife!” Paul bellowed. The man lay flat on the deck, and Paul turned to the other man who’d also spoken so vulgarly about Rhees. He picked him up and tossed him off the deck, into the water, and then did the same thing to the man he’d struck. “I better not see you on my deck again, got that?” Paul threatened the men in the water, and then turned on the other three men, the ones he knew. They held their hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say a word—I tried to stop

them,” Adrian said. Gio and Micah nodded frantically. “You’d better watch what creepazoids you bring around my shop,” Paul sneered, driving home how serious he was, and they slinked away. Paul turned to give a gaping Rhees a severe look before ducking into the equipment room, shaking his head. oOo Later that afternoon, almost closing time, Rhees glanced up in time to see Paul stop cold when he saw her again. She’d covered up with a short, sheer sundress, sheer enough to blur out her figure, a little, making the bikini

underneath look like— “Hell,” she heard him mumble quietly. “I’m in hell.” He’d just come around the corner with Fred on his heels. Apparently, getting the parts back into the boat wasn’t going too well if he’d resorted to calling on Fred again. Paul glanced away, uncomfortably, and then, he seemed to be trying too hard to not look again. Dance club had finished up, and she was just now gathering up the stereo equipment she always used to play the music they danced to. She didn’t understand Paul’s reaction to her until she remembered what she was wearing.

She’d noticed the bikini on a clearance rack in front of a store the night she and Christian went dancing. The four-dollar price tag had caught her frugal eye, and she needed new swimming suits again, but the bikini was even skimpier than her last two. In all the clothes Paul had purchased for her the day things fell apart, there were no new suits. The sales price had made her take a minute to debate whether she should buy it. She’d finally dismissed the idea, knowing Paul would have a cow, even with a camisole, but after running into him at the Starfish that night, she didn’t really care about what he thought at the

time. On the way home, in an angry huff, she’d made Christian wait for her as she made the purchase with her own money. The sundress did happen to be in the batch of clothes Paul had purchased from what she now referred to as, The Consummation Store. She hadn’t planned to wear it, their current problems had her thinking she’d have to save her marriage first, but after what happened the night before, she realized the timing couldn’t be better. She’d always believed she didn’t know how to play games, but the stakes were too high, and she was desperate. She’d made an educated guess as to why Paul had thrown those men into the

water earlier. Knowing that Paul wasn’t the only one noticing her almost made her change her mind, but she would willingly fight with whatever means she had at her disposal to keep him in her life. The look on his face earlier, when he’d noticed her wearing the bikini— after he’d tossed those men—she’d held her breath, expecting him to charge her, and insist she cover up, if not drag her out of there by her hair. But he’d played it cool, like now, even though he kept stealing glances at her with a befuddled look on his face. She finally had to turn away so he wouldn’t see her satisfied smirk. She felt it a small victory in what

she deemed an act of war. oOo Paul imposed himself into the dinner plans of Tracy and Regina, and a group of their friends, which meant that Rhees would be imposing as well. After their talk at Oscar’s, it surprised, and saddened Rhees to see him still trying to get out of spending too much time with her, alone. He didn’t drink at all, and alcohol was the last thing Rhees wanted after her liquid lunch, but he did his best to extend the meal, pushing the others to have, yet another drink, and ordering dessert for everyone, on him. It grew late and no one could be

persuaded to party any longer, so Paul and Rhees found themselves silently making their way north until they reached the shop. They both stopped at the same time, hesitating, not knowing whether they were turning right, to his apartment, or left, to the shop. “The shop?” they both asked at the same time. It seemed the safer territory. oOo Paul had the mat all laid out with the pillows and sheets from the spare room, which was now her closet, when she came from the bathroom. He sat on the deck floor, leaning against the gazebo railing, staring somberly out over the

ocean, even though it was dark. Instead of climbing onto the mat to go to sleep, she sat next to him, and after a long while, rested her head on his shoulder. He didn’t protest. After another few minutes, he rested his head against hers and reached for her hand. “I honestly don’t know what to do here.” He finally broke the silence, watching himself caress her hand with his. “Even my brain—especially my brain, isn’t enough to figure out what to do about any of this.” “Maybe your IQ is the problem. You’re overthinking it. But you’re stuck with me. Give me the silent treatment, shoot me those icy eyes, yell, scream, do

whatever you think you need to do, but I’m not leaving here.” “What if I left?” She whipped her head around to look at him, and exhaled what sounded like a tortured sigh. “You’re sick, Baby.” “You’re right.” It was the first time she hadn’t argued with him about it and Paul looked at her, surprised. “I’m lovesick. I’m in love with the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.” “Pfft.” He rattled his head and they were both silent again for a while. “I know you didn’t fall in love with

me because of my looks. If that were the case, you would have come home with me the night you said you were gay.” “Yep.” She nodded in agreement. “Not your looks, although your pretty face is a bonus, as well as your perfectly sculpted body.” He cursed under his breath but didn’t seem to want to argue about her calling him pretty. Instead, he yawned, and tried to shake off how tired he had to be. “I know you didn’t marry me for my money. You didn’t realize I had any until it was too late.” “Nope, not the money.” “See? There is no logical explanation for it, other than what—”

“What Keene said? That’s bull.” “It’s not bull. You’re only with me because your rape-dar recognized the kind of man I am. That vile bastard, punk kid, triggered something in you twenty years ago. What you think is love . . . is just a sick byproduct of what happened to you. You need help, and when you get it, you’ll see I’m right.” He looked up at the night sky and she noticed how shiny his eyes had become, reflected from the light of the moon. “I’m not as good as you think I am. I thought we’d established that already.” “You’re absolutely the devil.” He chuckled, but then slipped back into his doom and gloom mood. “That’s the

effect I have on you, and I know it’s only going to get worse.” “It is?” She grabbed on to the sliver of hope in his sentence. He didn’t use any ridiculous clarifiers like, it’s only going to get worse, if you stay with me, or it’s only going to get worse if I don’t stop trying to cram Keene’s nuthouse down your throat. “Are you putting an end to this stupid plan you have to get me well enough to stop loving you?” “Well, since I can’t keep my big, drunken mouth in check—or keep He— out of you, I’d say that plan will have to be scuttled.” She turned and sat up on her knees to

look at him, with even more hope. “So, we can really just be married, and live happily ever after?” He snorted a laugh and shook his head at her; letting her know how unbelievable he thought she was, but his comments made her the happiest she’d been, for too long. He shocked her even more by grabbing for her around the waist, and pulling her into his lap, cuddling her like a baby, but more vehemently. “Oh, Rhees,” he said, resting his chin on top of her head, his voice revealing the dilemma he felt himself facing. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Hold me in your arms like this, forever?” He chuckled again but sounding unsure of himself. “There’s no place I’d rather be.” She smiled up at him, but he didn’t smile back, warning her that, while things had improved, they weren’t quite where she wanted them to be . . . yet. “There’s no place I’d rather you be, too.” He didn’t sound convincing enough. Her heart sank at the long pause between what he’d said, and what she knew he was about to say. She finally jumped in with what she thought he was thinking—to cut him off at the pass—just

in case. “I never once, thought, ‘Oh, look. There’s Paul. I’d sure like to be raped by him’.” She knew it was a risk. He’d said, several times, how he was tired of talking about it. “Maybe.” He ran his fingers up and down her arm, not really noticing what he was doing as he was lost in thought. “But maybe you don’t even realize—I can’t just stand by, knowing you need help, and not get it for you. I can’t just sit by and watch the beauty in you be destroyed, because of me—by me. “There’s no logical explanation. There’s no other reason someone like you would fall for someone like me. It’s

always puzzled me, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, until Keene explained it. Since then—after everything—if you’re right, if you’re not with me because of that—I don’t know why the fuck you are.” “Gah!” She started to shake, so frustrated with him for being so damned pig-headed, but words failed her. He was hell-bent on believing all the psychobabble Keene had fed him, and it made her want to scream. “Damn your parents!” It came out before she could catch herself. “I’m sorry, I mean, dang them, but that’s just not strong enough. May they drown in a tub of their own urine.”

Paul laughed. “I’ll let that one slide since I started it. I shouldn’t have said the F-word. I’m sorry.” “Listen to me and listen good— because I’m getting so . . . feathermucking sick of this od-gay amned-day conversation too.” “What?” “I want to not swear, with flair. I’m experimenting. It’s harder than you’d think—but that’s off subject.” She pulled away from him enough to hold his face between her hands, looking him in the eye. “I’m going to tell you why I love you, once and for all. Do you hear me?” He nodded slightly, but he looked wary.

“I love you because you take care of me. I know that sounds lame—I am lame, because I’m a grown woman and I’m supposed to be able to take care of myself—but you know what a baby I am, which would make most guys run for their lives. You’re always there for me —well—until last night, but I’m calling that a one-time glitch. Paul, Baby . . .” She saw him press his lips together to suppress a smile at the endearment. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I never want to have to figure that out. The very thought of it makes me panic.” “You’re stronger than you think you are. You’re tou—” “Tough as nails. Yeah, yeah.”

“Just because you don’t believe me, or in yourself, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” She narrowed her eyes, deliberating what he’d said. “I’ll work on believing it, if you’ll work on accepting that you’re worthy of being loved.” He looked off, bothered, and she shook her head, hating his family more each day. “Back to my Why I love you speech.” She wasn’t about to give up yet. “Remember when the Swensons were here? The day they did the night dive, I noticed you did a double-take when you overheard me telling Tracy

and Regina that I couldn’t go to lunch with them, because I didn’t have any money left. I saw the look on your face, but at the time, I thought you were just being a sourpuss, as usual.” That made the corner of his mouth quirk up in an almost smile, but he dropped his head and looked selfconscious, because he probably knew what was coming. “But that evening, I miraculously found sixteen dollars in my pocket, enough to eat well for the next few days. “The more I thought about it, the more I knew I hadn’t put it there and forgotten about it. I never carry sixteen dollars around with me at one time, let

alone ram that much change into my pocket. No, Paul. You put it there, because you cared. That look I mistook for grumpiness, was actually concern, because you have a bigger heart than you like to admit. After that, every few days, I’d find more money, everywhere, in my pockets, at the bottom of my backpack— in my BC pocket—what would I need money for during a dive? ‘Oh, I think I’ll stop off at the local sand bar and buy a drink’,” she teased. He glanced up at her joke and gave her one of his crooked grins. His eyes sparkled with mirth, but then he looked down again when she continued on about him.

“I already knew you weren’t really as mean as you wanted me to think you were—well some of the time—but that’s one thing I love about you, your big, generous heart. You not only look out for me, but you’re always stepping in for the underdog. You’d take care of just about everyone on this island if they needed help. “Then there’s your big . . .” She left him hanging a minute, flashing her eyebrows up and down, going for the double entendre. He tilted his head at her, and blinked slowly. “Brain.” She giggled and sneaked in for a quick peck on his lips. “Apparently, I’m a sucker for an

intelligent man. Next, I love your hard work ethic, your passion for life. You work hard, play hard—you give everything you do, everything you’ve got —it’s so hot! “I love you because you listen to my long, boring stories. You call me beautiful and make me believe you, even though I know I’m not. You deny it, but you are very romantic. You’re so patient —well, not really—not by nature, but with me, you’ve been so patient. You always know what to do, and you take charge. I don’t have to worry about anything, and the pathetic wimp in me needs that. You’re always there for me.” She choked up on the next words, “You

make me feel precious.” She cleared her throat. “My parents are the only ones who’ve ever really loved me—they had to. That’s what parents are supposed to do—” Her eyes darted to his, remembering that he didn’t have that. She lifted her hand to his cheek, believing that he wanted his parents to love him, that it was more important to him than he let on. She rushed forward to get away from the topic. “They’re supposed to, but you had a choice . . . I don’t understand why. I think sometimes —sometimes I know that someday, you’re just going to walk away, and leave me . . . but . . . even the past few

days . . .” Tears had filled her eyes, and she looked up into his and whispered, “You’re still here.” She sniffed a few times and tried to gain her composure, knowing how hard she had to fight to make sure that it stayed true, knowing that it might not be true much longer. She wiped her eyes. She gave him a watery smile. “You make me feel safe.” She purposely ignored how unsafe she’d felt the past few days. “I have an absurd, voracious need to feel safe, and I feel safe with you—I know you’d die to protect me. That’s how I know, positively, that it’s not just some passing crush or infatuation.

“When Creepy grabbed me—” A sob hiccupped from her throat, and she fought to hold it together to get the rest out. “Normally, I would have freaked out, wondering how that could possibly be happening to me again, and obviously, that part hit me later, but at that moment, I didn’t care.” Paul pulled her into his chest again, and she took a deep breath, using the gesture to borrow his strength. “For once in my life—I realized my love for you is stronger than fear—I didn’t think about how terrible it would be—what was about to happen to me— because all I could think about was you. I knew there was no possible way you

weren’t going to try to save me, and I knew they were going to kill you for it. I actually thought, hanging over Creepy’s shoulder, that I’d rather get raped by a million low-life scumbags than watch you die.” She felt his chest rise with a long inhale, but then he held his breath and didn’t say anything to challenge her statement. Instead, he lovingly caressed her, holding her with one hand, while he trailed the other up and down her arm. “I can’t see my life without you in it. I don’t want to ever have to. I love you, Paul.” She stuttered in a few gulps of air. “I love you.” She felt him reach up and wipe his

face, and she wondered if he was crying too, but she didn’t break the closeness to look up and check. She wrapped her arm around his neck instead. “We’re good for each other. You said I make you feel redeemable. I don’t know how, but I know you make me feel . . . not so afraid all the time. So together, we’re better, we make each other better.” He blew out a long, loud breath. “I wish it were that simple. We are just so different, so opposite.” He rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed. “That’s not a bad thing,” she said, looking up at him.

He licked his lips and chewed on them, she knew he was thinking about that, skeptical of its validity, as it applied to him. “I’m so torn. The battle raging in my heart is tearing me apart. The desire is so strong, to do what I always do, and just ignore my conscience, do what I want. I’m a predator, and you’re the prey. I could keep you, and I think you’d be fine with that, for now, in your condition, but that’s not right to take advantage of your . . . frailty. That’s what I want to do, but that’s not what you need. If it was anyone else—but it is about you, the most important person to me—I need more time to work through

it.” “Okay, take the time,” she said, trying to read hope into his need. At least he wasn’t packing his bags, or telling her to pack hers. “But for now, we’re good, right? No more babysitters, separate sleeping arrangements, mental institutions . . .” He laughed at her insistence about calling Keene’s retreat an institution. “No more drunken binges for sure.” “Last night—after we—I got mad when I thought you got drunk because you didn’t want to come home to me, but it was because you felt guilty about your decision to commit me, isn’t it?”

“No! For the last time, it isn’t a mental institution, Rhees,” he huffed, exasperated. “I felt guilty for nawt wanting to send you away.” He paused. “Even though I know it’s what you need, I don’t want to lose you. I’m just that selfish!” She tried to hug him, but he grabbed her hands to stop her. She stared at him for a long minute wondering how they’d gone from warm and cuddly, to the cold shoulder again. “What’s wrong? You afraid you might accidentally make love to me again?” He deadpanned. “No.” He sighed. His inflection rose

at the end, making him sound unsure, so he just admitted it. “Maybe. I don’t know.” The look she gave him made him think of a sad puppy and he started to hate this conversation. “I’d like nothing more than to pretend all this can just go away, but I won’t make promises I can’t keep.” He paused to yawn again. “So, yeah, for now, I need time to sort this out.” “I’m afraid time might be my worst enemy,” she mumbled. “Will you promise me something?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “No.” It came out without a second’s thought.

He sighed again but ignored her refusal. “If you won’t go to Keene for help, will you at least work with him? We can set something up. I’ll take anything you’re willing to give on this. I’ll see about bringing him here, once a week, or maybe you can talk to him over the phone, for now. I’ll feel better knowing he’s aware of what’s going on with you —because I have no clue.” The minutes ticked by in silence. “Okay,” she whispered. “I promise . . . and I’ll give you time, but only because I love you, and you’re so sure there’s no other way we can get past this.”

She rested her head against his chest and felt the huge, relieved exhale he let out with a grateful, “Thank God.” A few seconds later, his breathing had slowed and became deep. He’d fallen asleep. She held perfectly still, hoping she wouldn’t wake him, worried that if she did, he’d move away from her. “Please, get past this,” she whispered, and then looked up at the sky, heavenward. “Please, help him get past this.” oOo The next morning, Dobbs and Claire went to the mainland for the day, leaving Rhees alone in the office. She decided to

work on Daily’s, but she’d left her little camera on her BC after dives that morning. She went to retrieve it so she could download the day’s diving pictures, but stopped when she overheard Tracy, Regina, and Dorene having a heated discussion with Ronnie and her friends, just outside the outer equipment room door. “You’re wasting your time. We’ve been here since the day Rhees stepped foot on the island. Paul hasn’t even looked at another girl since,” Dorene said. “You don’t know Ronnie,” Marcelle said in her French accent. “Veronique gets what she wants.”

“Who she wants,” Sophie said, and Ronnie laughed about it. Rhees inched closer to see if she could get a look without getting caught, and found she could see the girls standing just outside the door through the crack. “They’re married now,” Ronnie said. “Married men get bored. They start looking for a little spice.” “You do not know Paul,” Regina growled. “Yeah,” Dorene agreed. “You’re not the first girl who’s wanted to help him forget about Rhees.” Ronnie huffed out a bored laugh. “A man who looks like Paul is used

to playing the field. He’ll get bored. Don’t underestimate my powers of persuasion . . . or seduction.” Ronnie giggled at herself. “They’re happy together,” Tracy whined. Rhees could tell she was upset. Tracy’s tender heart couldn’t fathom how anyone could be cruel. “Paul doesn’t look so happy to me.” Ronnie sounded flippant, not concerned. “Rhees either, for that matter.” “Well, they were hijacked, almost killed, on their wedding night,” Dorene said. “That would be tough on anyone. They’ll work it out.” “They’re doing that already,” Tracy said, resonating with hope. “I saw them

having coffee and donuts together in the gazebo this morning, just like old times.” “Oh! Coffee? What was I thinking?” Ronnie feigned remorse for ever thinking she could catch Paul’s eye. “Sounds like marital bliss to me.” “To me, it sounds more like Veronique’s number is about to be called,” Marcelle said. “I told you. She gets whatever, or whomever, she sets her sights on.” “Look, we like Rhees . . . now.” Dorene glanced guiltily at Regina. “Leave him alone. I don’t think you’re going to succeed, but if you did manage it—it would really hurt Rhees. She’s really sweet. Please, don’t hurt her.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Rhees,” Ronnie said. “I get what I want, and I don’t let anything stand in my way. At the moment, I want Paul—I may even keep him a while.” Rhees had heard enough. She backtracked and made it to the office to think. After a few minutes, she went in search of her husband. oOo “I want Ronnie out of here.” Rhees sounded overly determined, like she thought she needed courage she didn’t really have, to stand her ground. She stood before him, her unyielding eyes on his, her back straight, and her head held

high. Paul was in the middle of his regular maintenance on the air compressor, but because of her tone and stance, he stopped and grabbed for a towel. He watched her carefully as he wiped the grease off his hands, trying to gauge what had her so worked up. He wondered if he’d ever know what she was really thinking again—if he ever had—he’d once thought he’d known her pretty well. “I’m not interested in her,” he said, wanting to reassure her, again. He didn’t understand why she kept coming back to this. Keene’s prediction came to mind again, about her insecurities.

“I don’t care. I don’t want her here.” “This is not like you. You see the good in everyone.” He moved closer to give her his full attention. He felt bad about giving her a reason to feel so insecure. He’d been selfish and selfabsorbed the last few days, letting his own feelings get the better of him. “Give it a few more days. She’ll figure out I’m not interested, and she’ll give it up, just like all the others.” “No.” Rhees shook her head. “This is different. Ronnie is different.” “Rhees, she’s a paying student. If she goes, her friends go too. Do you know how much that’ll cost?” “Sometimes there are more

important things to consider. I thought the money didn’t matter to you.” She looked so hurt. He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her. He reached for her but she stepped away. “You keep saying you’re not interested in her, so why are you so adamant about keeping her around?” “I’m not. It’s just business.” “You said you knew the shop would never be a very profitable business. You can’t say, one minute, that you don’t care about how much money the shop brings in, then the next, try to tell me it’s all about the money, especially when it comes to her. There has to be another reason. You like her.”

“No. I don’t. It’s just . . .” He hadn’t put what was going on in his head into words yet, and he wondered if he’d be able to make her understand. “You’re right. I didn’t care—before. But the shop’s been doing better than I ever expected. I’ve always been good, no, great, at assessing businesses, knowing their strengths and weaknesses, but I’ve never had my own. I’d tell my dad which ones to buy, and then we’d sell them, or pull them apart and scavenge the assets.” He put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor before finally admitting the truth. “I need to win, I can’t help it. You know that already. Suddenly I’m—we’re

winning. I know you’re the biggest reason for the new success, but—we’re talking about three students, and we’re talking about a stupid girl with a stupid crush. Why is Ronnie suddenly any different than any of the others?” “Because,” Rhees almost whined. “I want her out of here, but you don’t care about what I want anymore.” “That’s not true.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I care, I’ve always cared, and I will forever care.” He pulled away enough to take her face between his hands, and looked earnestly into her eyes. “I care! I really do.” oOo

“You can’t do that!” “I just did.” Rhees held her voice as even as possible. She stood just outside the office, her words directed at Ronnie even though Ronnie’s friends were a part of the conversation, too. “Sophie and Marcelle can stay, the choice is theirs, but you need to move on, today.” “You can’t do that,” Ronnie repeated in her typical, how do you not know I’m supposed to rule the world, manner. “Where’s Paul? This is his shop, and he wants me here. I refuse to talk to anyone but him.” Ronnie stood, her arms folded in defiance while Rhees held an envelope out to her. Ronnie refused to take it.

Finally, Paul poked his head around the corner, guardedly. Rhees had noticed Tracy take off to get Paul when the confrontation with Ronnie started. Rhees braced herself, sure it would be five against one. She’d have to be strong and hold her ground. “Actually, we were recently married. It’s half mine now. I have just as much say in what goes on around here as he does.” “This isn’t the United States,” Ronnie laughed scornfully. “Women have no rights in this country. You have half of nothing!” The news hit Rhees like a huge rock to her face. She and Paul had talked

about it, joked about it on several occasions. He’d never once corrected her assumption. She thought for a moment, wondering if he’d known—he had to know—he was some kind of super business savant, not to mention, a lawyer. Of course he knew. She felt her face heat up, feeling the fool, wishing she could crawl under the rock that had just made her world spiral out of control —all over again. “I paid in full.” Ronnie must have noticed the flush of Rhees’ skin. She grew haughtier than ever. “I want to talk to Paul. I refuse to discuss this with you. You’re nobody!”

“I’m right here,” Paul chimed in, still uncertain about what was happening. “Thank goodness you’re here. Your wife is crazy!” Ronnie turned back to Rhees. “It’s his shop, his decision, and he wants me here. I’m not going anywhere.” Ronnie stepped closer to him as if he would protect her. Paul looked at Rhees, begging with his eyes to know what she was thinking. He thought they’d already settled this, only minutes before. “I’m refunding her money.” Rhees gave him one of her determined looks and he knew he was in for a fight. Paul stepped closer to Rhees, hoping

for some privacy, as well as put some distance between Ronnie and himself. The girl didn’t seem to have a clue about personal space. “Rhees?” He leaned down to get close, and to exclude as many overhearing ears as possible. “We talked about this. This is one thing you can trust me on.” “I trust you.” Rhees’ eyes softened for him, but then she glared at Ronnie. “I don’t think you do, not if you really feel the need to do this.” Rhees seemed to waiver, but only for second. “This isn’t about you, or her, or who I trust. This is about the safety of everyone at the shop.”

“Me? A safety risk? That’s ridiculous!” Ronnie laughed as she looked around the gathering group of people for support, apparently so full of herself she thought everyone would naturally take her side. “You’re not worried about anyone but yourself, because you know Paul is attracted to me.” “Oh, for crying out loud,” Paul hissed while gritting his teeth. “Give it a rest, Ronnie. I’ve told you, I’m not interested!” Ronnie turned to say something to him, Paul turned to say something to his wife, but Rhees blazed onward before either of them had a chance to say a

word. “Ronnie is a safety risk. Everyone complains about how inconsiderate she is, not only around the shop, but underwater as well. Mitch scolded her yesterday for trying to pull a lobster out from under a rock. She could have maimed it, broken his antennae.” “He was huge. I wanted to catch him, for dinner.” “How did I miss that?” Paul’s gaze flashed to Ronnie, and then Mitch. “You didn’t dive,” Mitch said with an innocent shrug. “You were hung over, I handled it.” Paul’s body language tightened as he turned back to Ronnie.

“If you want lobster, order it in a damned restaurant,” he said through clenched teeth. He thought it bad enough how the locals continued to pillage their own environment by overfishing the waters to make a buck—the going rate for lobster on the island was only six dollars a plate. The topic was a sore spot for Paul. He’d been fighting with the locals since he showed up on the island, trying to get them to consider their future instead of recklessly squandering their resources for the here and now. “Diving is almost a spiritual experience. Most people never get to see and appreciate what’s below the surface

of the ocean.” He stopped, knowing he was up on his soapbox again. He hated sounding so preachy, but he always did when the subject came up. “We don’t molest the wildlife! Got that? At my shop, we don’t hunt when we’re diving!” Ronnie rolled her eyes. “She’s also kicked the regs out of just about everyone’s mouth,” Rhees continued, bringing Paul back to the situation at hand. Several of the other students nodded in agreement. “She pushed Khafid off the ladder. If it weren’t for your fast response, he’d be in Cuba by now. “Then, I heard the three of them talking,” Rhees waved at Ronnie and her

friend, “Sophie and Marcelle were upset. Apparently, Ronnie turned off Marcelle’s air during a dive—as a joke.” “Is that true?” Paul spun around to face Ronnie, vehemently, before growling out what came next, for everyone to hear, “You do not screw with people’s air, do you hear me? Ever! I’m going to have to start drilling everyone on courtesy and safety—” “We are not lax on safety, Paul. We do an excellent job. The problem is Ronnie and her lack of concern for anyone but herself—but we’re just as bad, if we keep her around, knowing what we know about her.”

“Are you going to let her talk about me like that?” Again, Ronnie turned to Paul, expecting him to defend her. He gave her a foul look. “I heard her say that she’d sleep with you,” Rhees said quietly. She looked worried, or scared. “In spite of being told it would hurt me. It would, but that’s what started me thinking. If she’d so willingly hurt me like that, then who wouldn’t she be willing to hurt? I could never trust her to be my dive buddy, and if I can’t trust her with my life during a dive, then how can I trust her with theirs?” She waved her hand at the other people standing around. “She can’t dive without a buddy, and

I couldn’t, in good conscience, expect anyone else to risk their lives with her. We’d be liable if anything happened. I’d never be able to forgive myself.” Rhees pleaded with her eyes, begging him to agree with her, but then she dropped her head and looked down. Paul thought about what Rhees said. She was right. “Apparently, I have no real say in this, after all,” Rhees said without looking up. “The shop is yours . . . not ours, but I think you would be unwise to let her stay and endanger the other students, our friends.” With his hands on his hips, he took a slow, deep breath and let it out, while he

looked up at the rafters. He thought he should be annoyed with his wife, but what he felt was awe. “What a crazy bitch!” Ronnie turned to the crowd, indignantly. “Are you listening to this? Has she always been crazy, or did the hijacking completely unhinge her?” “Ronnie, enough! That’s my wife you’re talking about.” Paul finally sounded harsh enough to please Rhees. “You can’t honestly be buying into her insane logic? I paid. I’m not taking the money back. You have to certify me —” Paul grabbed the envelope from

Rhees’ hand and stuffed it between Ronnie’s folded arms, leaving her dumbstruck. He looked so angry, and visions of foreign prisons ran through Rhees’ head again, so she took a step closer to him, setting her hand on his arm. He relaxed a notch, but Rhees still didn’t dare smile, although the sudden solidarity between them felt like such a beautiful thing. “You heard her. Get off my fucking —” He stepped behind Rhees, drew her back to his front, and folded her into his arms to showcase his gesture of unity as they both now faced Ronnie. “—our fucking deck.” Ronnie tried, but failed, to rally her

two friends. They stayed behind, and watched with everyone else, as she finally stormed off in a huff, swearing and yelling to herself about only wanting to become dive master because of Paul and what Paul would miss out on, and how he wasn’t the only good-looking man on the planet. “I think Rhees is right about her,” Marcelle said when Ronnie finally disappeared over the Plank, and around the corner. “We just met up with her on St. Martin a couple of weeks ago. At first she was fun to be with, but I’d just recently begun to wonder if something was off about her. Her ideas about having fun were starting to scare me.”

“Me too. I just thought she had a lot of confidence, but the longer we were together, the more I worried about how far she’d be willing to take things— things that shouldn’t be pushed so far. I’m sorry.” Sophie and Marcelle looked nervous, as if wondering if they’d be accepted at the shop after being associated with Ronnie. Tracy took them both by the arm and led them around to the deck, telling them how happy she was that they’d decided to stay. oOo When they were finally alone, Rhees let Paul turn her in his arms to face him.

He gave her a stern look, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile, but was trying not to. “Don’t be thinking you can run off every female student who makes eyes at me,” he said as his crooked grin finally won over his firm expression. “We’ll go broke.” “Okay . . . what about the guys who crush on you?” She managed not to giggle, but her own smile slowly unfolded. He dropped his head back, demonstrating that he knew it to be true. The action showcased his long, muscular neck, making his Adam’s apple more pronounced. He turned his gaze back to her, and

caught her staring, and licking her lips. She blushed at getting caught, and looked down to study her bare toes. “Them too,” he said with a smirk, pulling her chin up with his finger. “I’ve been dealing with crushes from both sexes, and all ages, for most of my life, but a student is a student, okay?” “Then maybe you should stop bribing them to leave, just because I happen to innocently admit that I think they’re pretty.” Paul froze momentarily at getting caught. “Who told you?” He blinked a few times and shifted on his feet. “The second night he babysat me,

Christian said he’d like to learn more about your new loan program for impoverished divers, and how he might qualify for one. Lorencio finally got around to emailing him a while ago, and Christian asked him why he’d up and left so suddenly.” “Where is Christian? I haven’t seen him around.” Paul’s grin dropped along with his voice, “Never mind.” “He’s pretty upset. He’s taking a few days off to think. He said he’s been considering joining up with Lorencio, but I talked him out of it. I hope.” “I’m sorry. I’ll speak to him, and apologize.” “Yes. Please do that . . . but maybe

you should wait another day or two.” Paul arched a brow. “That mad, huh?” She winced, and then nodded. “See? I fu—I mean, I mess everything up.” She slipped her arms up and around his neck. The look in her eyes melted his heart. He couldn’t do it any longer. He decided right then and there, once and for all, he was done trying to do the right thing. He would take every second he could get with her, the future consequences to his heart be damned. “To heck with it.” He kissed her, soft and chaste, but long, and on the lips. “Tonight,” he said, smooshing his

lips to the side of her face. “No alcohol. No lube—” “I didn’t use the lube,” she said with a frustrated cry. “I never opened it, and I can prove it to you. It should still have the seal.” “Uh . . .” He squirmed. “You can’t. I threw it into the jungle when I found it. I was a little . . . bothered.” “So you’ll never believe me.” “I don’t have to.” He drew her eyes to his again and kissed her forehead, working his kisses around her face. “Do you have any idea how crazy it’s been driving me that I had you again, and I can’t remember it, again? It’s like Costa Rica all over,” he said before moving

his kisses to her mouth. After another long, soft kiss on the lips, he whispered, “Tonight.” “Tonight?” she breathed. She searched his eyes for some clarification of what he meant, but her eyes hooded over as he nodded and skimmed her lips lightly with his tongue, knocking on the door. She opened for him, and he barged right in, deepening their kiss. He firmed his grasp around her waist, partly because he needed the closeness, but also because she’d sagged in his arms and felt like she’d collapse if he didn’t catch her, and then he grinned, pleased to know she’d wilted for him. “Mm,” he grunted without breaking

their kiss, and then he wilted too.

Chapter 24 hees walked into the office from the Tunnel. Paul sat alone at his computer, completely still. He stared at the screen so intently he didn’t hear her greeting.

She didn’t mean to snoop, but the way it held his absolute attention, without thinking, she read the email from over his shoulder.

R

My Dearest Paul, I miss you! Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. The more time that passes, the more I regret our parting ways. I shouldn’t have been so hasty to say goodbye. Rhees grabbed the counter to keep from falling, her whole body felt so weak, she could buckle any second. She stopped reading, needing to know who’d

sent it. Her eyes scanned the email heading and her breath caught—Ginger. “No!” Paul bellowed before Rhees could read any more. She watched him grow more and more agitated, staring at the screen, literally rocking in his seat. He gasped for air like he couldn’t get enough of it. Rhees flinched, startled, when he suddenly hit the screen with his fist, sending cracks across the monitor before going black. He leaned forward on his hands and rubbed his face. His anguish leeched out in guttural, lamented breaths. He was falling apart before her eyes. She moved toward him a step, reached out to him in an attempt to calm

him, but she jerked again when he leaped to his feet and threw the broken laptop at Claire’s computer monitor. Rhees covered her ears at the sound of the crash and watched weakly as he attacked the office. He pushed things off of shelves, ripped the phone from the wall, threw everything that had weight enough to throw, rasping and snarling as he did. She jumped again with a squeal when the phone went through one of the window panes. He finally turned to meet what had to be anxious, fearful eyes. She slowly backed up a few steps, and stood at the door of the Tunnel. As soon as he saw her, his face twisted into grief, the

anger gone, but his red-rimmed eyes filled with tears and grew shiny, but no tears fell. His mouth quivered, and then contorted, not the usual twitches, still heaving breaths and gnashing his teeth until he finally looked down. He looked lost. She’d never seen him look so lost. “I—I . . .” He closed his eyes and gulped in a strained breath of air before opening them again. “There’s something I have to do.” His mouth went wild, trembling, licking his lips, the muscle in his jaw twitched, violently. His eyes flitted around the room, looking everywhere but at her. She took a step toward him but

stopped herself—he was so wound up. All she wanted to do was let him know that everything would be okay, but she really didn’t know if it would be. He had a history with Ginger, and Rhees didn’t know what the rest of the email said. Her insecurities got the best of her. “Okay.” It took her a moment to answer, and it came out nervously, airy. She cleared her throat. “I’ll, um . . .” She looked around the room. “I’ll start cleaning up here.” He made a few more agonized faces, and then was out the door in a blur, leaving her standing in a daze, waiting for her brain to catch up to what just happened.

oOo Rhees set her pen and journal, the Whine List, at her side and pulled Paul’s pillow over her face. She breathed in deeply . . . again. The scent, his scent, was faint. He hadn’t slept on his own pillow in months. The T-shirt he’d worn the previous day still smelled like him, so she put it on before climbing into his bed. She’d never slept in his bed before. He’d told her he didn’t want to sully her by mixing her in with the memories it held for him, memories he wasn’t proud of. Still in a blur, without thinking it through, she’d started putting the office back together after he ran out. It took her

nearly fifteen minutes to realize how stupid it was to worry about unorganized paperwork when Paul had fallen apart before her eyes. She went in search of him, but knew she was too late the second she stepped into his apartment. His backpack no longer hung on the peg next to the door, his personal safe lay open, his passport, emergency cash, and credit cards missing. His closet looked like he’d torn through it, grabbing what he needed, as evidenced by the empty hangers that lay scattered across the floor. She’d heard the plane, just after flagging Ignacio down, who’d confirmed he had taken Paul to the airport. She’d

watched powerlessly as it—he— climbed higher and higher, into the blue sky. The small plane whisking him off to . . . she didn’t know where, except that he was on his way back to Ginger. She’d heard the name mentioned too many times. Even Shelly had felt threatened by Ginger. Like a zombie, she’d made her way back to his apartment, thrown herself on his bed, and finally let go of the misery. She’d held it in, needing to be alone and out of sight of anyone who would try to comfort her. She didn’t want to be comforted. She was sure she would never be comforted again. By morning, after a long, sleepless

night, she made up her mind to stop crying, at least until the day was over. He’d said he had something he needed to do. She told herself that he’d be on the three o’clock plane. He’d come back after he took care of what it was he’d left to do. She told herself that if he wasn’t, then and only then, would she feel justified in falling apart again, and crying—for the rest of her life. She cleaned up as best as she could, splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would help her bloodshot, swollen eyes, and then hurried across the street to set up for the day. She didn’t want anyone to know Paul had run out on her —yet. They’d figure it out soon enough.

As far as anyone was concerned, he’d taken an unexpected business trip, though too many people had seen the disaster in the office the day before. “We’re reorganizing,” she told the few who dared to ask. Her snappy tone must have conveyed the message she really wanted to give, ‘it’s none of your business’. oOo Rhees put Dobbs and Mitch in charge of the dives that day, but tagged along, hoping a couple of dives would make her feel better. There weren’t too many things that gave her peace the way diving did.

While in her own little, scared-todeath world, she’d missed the name of their second destination, and it shocked her when they pulled up, and moored at The Shelf, the same dive site where she dove, or sunk, her first time, the time she almost died. Her inclination was to start hyperventilating, and she had to work not to. At that moment, she understood that Paul had probably made sure the shop never went back there when she was along. Today, he wasn’t there to tell Dobbs, or Mitch, or Randy to pick another site. He wasn’t there to protect her. He wouldn’t be there to save her again. She turned to tell Mitch she was

calling her dive—that she couldn’t do it —but she caught herself. She had to do this. There were going to be many things she’d have to learn to face on her own. She said a quick prayer and sat down to gear up. oOo The group reached the shelf, sixty feet down, and she still struggled to keep her breathing normal. She checked her gauges. Sure enough, she was blowing through her air faster than normal. At the rate she was going, she’d have to surface in twenty minutes, like a newbie—like a stressed out, scared to death, on the verge of panic, newbie.

Just diving the site wasn’t enough, she decided. She needed to face the other part of her fear. She kicked over to the edge of the shelf and tried to look over into the abyss without leaving the safety of the sand below her. The memory of being sucked down the wall came back to her as though it happened yesterday. Her heart started pounding again when she realized what she had to do. She finned out a little farther, over the edge, and then a little farther again. Neutral buoyancy was a skill that took practice to get right, and she’d mastered it months ago, but now, her eyes remained riveted to her depth gauge

while she performed a fin pivot, an exercise divers use to check their buoyancy. An eternal two minutes later, she allowed herself to breathe relief, finally convinced she wasn’t going anywhere, that the down current wasn’t going to suck her into the deep again. She forced a smile at herself for her brave attempt, and hoped it was only her first triumph at facing the rest of her life, facing it without the parent’s who’d coddled and protected her, excusing her from having to try anything that might upset her. They’d never known why their little girl was so afraid of the world. She’d tell them now, if they were still

here, now that she knew how much better she felt having that burden off her shoulders. She couldn’t wait to tell Paul—her breath faltered when it hit her. Her selfsatisfaction vanished as the recent events flooded her mind once again, and the possibility of having to face her future challenges without the love of her life cheering her on, the man who’d made her feel so safe, for so long. She set a new goal. She determined she’d learn to make herself feel safe. It was a scary goal, but this little exercise gave her courage, and hope, hanging over the abyss at the very wall that had almost killed her—it was her first

victory in a long list of things she knew would come. She jerked at the feel of a hand on her arm. She hadn’t noticed Dobbs swim to her. He asked if she was okay by giving her the hand signal. She returned it but had to take her regulator out of her mouth to show him a fake smile because he didn’t appear convinced. He finally nodded and gestured that they should join up with the group again, and that’s what they did. oOo “Are you going to tell me what happened?” Claire asked, later that day. Rhees didn’t answer, or look up. She

just shook her head. The computer debris had been disposed of, the books were back on their shelves—the shelves that weren’t broken anyway. The only thing left was the stack of loose papers to go through. It would take a while to figure out which folder to put each one. Claire sighed. Just thinking about it made her tired. “I didn’t ask sooner,” Claire tiptoed around the obvious. “I figured you were too upset to talk about it, but you’re still . . . too quiet.” “I don’t want to talk about it—still —ever.” “Rhees. The office looked like a hurricane hit. We’re dead in the water

here without a phone and computers.” “I’m sorry. We’ll have to manage until tomorrow. He’ll be back. He’ll take care of everything.” Her voice quieted. “He always does. He takes care of everything.” “Why are you apologizing?” Claire had reached her tolerance level. She could no longer hide the anger with herself for ever giving Paul any credit. He hadn’t changed. “You didn’t do this. What is his problem?” “Nothing.” Claire stopped working to stare at Rhees. “Sweet, I knew something was wrong when you got back from your honey—” She kicked herself. The poor girl’s honeymoon had been a

nightmare. “After everyth—I ignored it, gave you two space, time to work it out. I know it had to be rough on both of you, but I thought you’d work it out.” She glanced around the office. “I can’t believe he trashed the office. Does he blame you for what happened—” Again Claire had stumbled onto a conversation she was sure she shouldn’t have. “I’ve always known about his violent tendencies, but I never thought— I’m afraid for you.” Rhees’ gaze shot to her, the shocked look couldn’t have been more pronounced. “Paul would never put his hands on me. And no, this has nothing to with

that.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up. It must be hard—” “Stop,” Rhees groaned. “I was sexually assaulted as a child. There I said it. I’m never going to hide from it again. I wish I’d faced it sooner. I feel so much better now that I can think about it, evaluate it, and talk about it—but Paul didn’t do this,” –she waved her hand around the room— “because of—it had nothing to do with my . . . assault.” Rhees almost chuckled at herself, a reaction that baffled Claire. “I’ve never called it that before.” She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I was assaulted. It wasn’t my

fault.” Claire tried to smile, but the current situation still troubled her. “So tell me then, tell me why he did do this.” She waved her hands around the room. It didn’t make sense to Claire. Paul loved his shop. She’d never seen him love anything more, until Rhees. Something had to be terribly wrong, and her imagination got the better of her. In spite of Rhees’ protests, she couldn’t stop worrying about her friend. “No.” “Rhees,” Claire pleaded. “I’m not sharing my marital woes with you, or anyone. I’m fine . . .”

Rhees’ lip started to quiver and the next words came out in a squeak. “At least until the three o’clock plane.” “Oh, Rhees.” Claire pulled a shuddering Rhees into her arms when she broke into sobs, and Claire held her, telling her over and over, that it would all be okay, but she didn’t really believe it. oOo Rhees snorkeled all afternoon. She’d borrowed one of Paul’s dive watches so she could watch the time. At two fortyfive, she climbed up the ladder, dried off, and put her clothes on. She’d asked Ignacio if she could tag along to the

airport. He always went to the airport to meet the three o’clock plane. She helped him load the bags of the three people who had just come to the island, because doing something productive helped her to keep her mind occupied. As long as her mind was occupied, she wouldn’t break out into another crying episode. Paul wasn’t on the plane. She tried to sound pleasant on the trip back to town, answering the new travelers’ questions about restaurants and the best dive sites, but as soon as they reached the main street, she hopped out of the van at the first chance she could. She yelled a thank you for the

ride, and ran back to Paul’s apartment to break down in private. She tossed and turned in his bed all night. She’d forced down a few potato chips Paul had in the cupboard, remembering how upset he’d been that she didn’t eat the night he went to the mainland, but they’d tasted stale. Again, evidence of how little time he’d spent there. She’d written in her Whine List again, and eventually, she’d cried herself out, and to sleep. The next morning, the little hope she’d had that he could be on the ferry the night before, was dashed when she awoke, alone. “Rhees?” Claire knocked on the

door just before eight o’ clock. Rhees didn’t answer and Claire knocked again. “Rhees? Open up.” “Leave me alone.” “You know I can’t. Come on, Sweet. Open up.” “Claire, please.” “I’m not leaving until you open. I need to see you, make sure you’re all right.” “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m not. Please, just go away.” “No.” Rhees finally opened the door, threw her arms around Claire, and they both cried. “I’m pathetic,” Rhees blubbered.

“I’m such a baby! I can’t stop crying. I’ve lost him, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I’m so scared and miserable. I’ll never grow up.” Claire closed the door and sat her down on the couch. She kneeled in front of her, and put her hands on Rhees’ knees. “You’re not a baby.” “Yes, I am. I—” “No, Sweet. You’re perfectly normal,” Claire assured. “It’s normal to be miserable, even scared, but it’s only been a day—” “Two. He left the night before last,” Rhees corrected Claire. “Still too soon to give up, but even if

you’re right, life will go on.” “I don’t know how?” Rhees sobbed. “I’m scared. I have no one. I have nothing.” Claire shushed her. “You have me, and you have Dobbs. You still have the shop, and all our friends on the island. Most of all, you have yourself. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Rhees shook her head and sniffed, ready to start crying again. “I’m serious. I could never make it through all you’ve gone through, but look at you.” “You do realize I was institutionalized, just a few weeks ago,

right?” Rhees asked, scowling as she said it. Claire snorted. “That was just a little break, a holiday.” Claire got up and sat on the couch next to Rhees. “The doctor would have let you out in twenty-four hours if it weren’t for Paul. He threw a tantrum at the hospital, ranted on and on about how they’d better not amputate your leg, insisting they bring in an American doctor. He told them he’d pay for it, that he didn’t care if it cost a million dollars. He hit someone. “After Paul made it so clear he could afford it, they kept you, to give him time to cool off, not because you

needed to be there. Based on what the doctor said, it might have done more good if they’d sent you to the luxury hotel, and kept Paul there for observation, instead.” Claire chuckled. “How do you know all that?” “Paul was a wreck.” Claire sobered. “He called me. I had to talk him off the ledge, several times a day until they finally released you.” “I thought he was angry with me,” Rhees whispered. “That he was just taking his anger out on them. I thought he was ashamed of me for what I’d done.” “You didn’t do anything, Rhees. You were a baby, a victim.” “I know that, now, at least, I’m

working on it. I’ve been dreaming about the kids we’ve had in the Kid’s Club— Asher was five,” Rhees’ voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I dreamed someone was trying to . . . hurt him. He’s so little, and sweet, and helpless . . . and . . . I was only five.” Claire nodded, but cast her eyes down. “In my dream, I shot the man trying to hurt him.” Rhees looked at Claire, their eyes met, and Rhees knew Claire understood where that had come from. “I find myself taking control in my dreams, more and more.” “I think that’s good, don’t you? See? That’s exactly what I mean,” Claire said,

throwing her hands up in the air. “You’re not a baby. Being kind, and tenderhearted, and unfamiliar about certain . . . things, doesn’t make you a baby.” Rhees wanted to believe her, but she didn’t feel very grown up at the moment. “No other woman has been able to wrangle Paul the way you do.” “I’ve never wrangled him.” Rhees hated the way that word sounded and scowled again, but Claire arched a brow. “That boy is whipped—” “That boy is gone!” “He’ll be back.” “You don’t know that—you don’t

know him the way I do.” “Okay. With or without him, we are going to go on, do you hear? You will run the shop, and Dobbs and I will be right there, by your side.” “You know I have no claim to the shop. It’s his, and in this country, I have no right to try and claim it.” “You’re in charge,” Claire assured. “Until he comes back, or until someone else shows up with the deed to evict us, it’s yours to run.” Claire’s suggestion shocked Rhees out of her fit of wallowing, self-pitying, stupefaction. The idea that Paul would sell the shop out from under them all, sounded preposterous, he would never

do that. He had taken care of her. He’d left, like he said he would, the other night on the deck—it had been such a small clue —but he’d implied that he would leave, and she’d be left with the shop. She wanted to cry again at the confirmation that he had left for good, but she refused. It really was time to grow up. “But we’re kind of snookered,” Claire continued. “We need computers and a phone.” Rhees’ brain started working again. She could do this. “Dobbs and I’ll use our savings.” “No,” Rhees said. “I won’t let you dip into your savings. You’re saving for

your own shop.” “But if we don’t get up and running again—” “I know,” Rhees said. “I have money in my bank account.” She closed her eyes, remembering the morning in the hotel room. The day the courier delivered a package, the credit card with her name on it. She thought wherever Paul had run off to, he might be so giddy about reuniting with Ginger, he’d forget to pay the bill, or maybe he’d be angry with Rhees for using it, now that he no longer wanted her in his life. He might cancel it, and all she’d have left was the remnants of the ten thousand he’d put into her account,

nine thousand, six hundred and seventy dollars. It was probably enough to buy what they needed, but she made a decision right then. “And a credit card—we’ll use the credit card—until we can’t.” “It’s going to take a bit,” Claire said, worried. “Is your limit high enough to cover that much?” Rhees grinned in spite of how her world had fallen apart. She smirked, thinking about how Paul had actually apologized for the limit restriction. “Do you think a hundred grand will cover it?” It stabbed her heart to be making fun of Paul’s concern, the concern he’d once had for her, but she

didn’t let Claire see her pain—the pain she’d have to hide with a fake smile, for the rest of her life, starting now. “I think it will,” Claire said dryly, her face blank, in shock, but then she nodded, thoughtfully. “Seriously?” “Yeah,” Rhees tried to laugh, but almost sobbed instead before she caught herself. Apparently, she wasn’t hiding her pain as well as she’d hoped because Claire gave her a sympathetic hug. Rhees dissolved into Claire’s embrace. “He’s gone!” “Codswallop,” Claire said. “You can’t be sure after a day—two days.” “I do. I know. I can’t tell you how I know, but I do.”

“I thought you were done keeping secrets,” Claire whispered, running her hand up and down Rhees’ back. “You don’t have to keep it in. You’ll feel better if you let it out, and let me and your friends help you through it.” “I can’t betray his confidence.” Claire let out a frustrated groan, but just held her friend. “He’ll be back,” she finally said. “He can’t breathe without you.” “No,” Rhees wailed. “He went back to Ginger.” “Ginger?” Claire sounded doubtful. “Bollocks.” “Yes. He got an email from her, and the next thing I know, he’s breaking

things, trashing the office, saying good riddance to everything here.” Including me. She let out another sob. “All Ginger had to say was that she missed him, and he couldn’t get out of here fast enough . . . to get to her.” “That doesn’t make sense.” “You knew her. She was beautiful, right? He loved her. He claimed he’d never loved anyone, but it’s just because he didn’t want to admit that the only woman he loved, broke his heart.” “No. I don’t think so—what makes you think that?” Claire studied Rhees, waiting for an answer that Rhees couldn’t get out, she was crying too

hard. “I would never describe Ginger as beautiful, crazy maybe, but not beautiful.” Claire thought about it for a minute, trying to remember her. It had been years. “Ginger wasn’t what most would call beautiful. She was skinny, too skinny. She had bright, red hair, and freckles. It was like freckles in reverse, think of the negative of a photo. Ginger could play Pippi Longstocking in a movie, not only in looks, but in her quirkiness too. She was funny, if you got her sense of humor—I did mention she was crazy, right?” “But he loved her.”

“I never noticed any love vibes between them. The four of them, Paul, Ginger, Mitch and Shanni all showed up together. Mitch and Shanni were obviously together, but Ginger was Mitch’s cousin. I always thought that was the only reason Paul and Ginger . . . hung out.” Claire cursed at herself. She always spoke her mind, never pulled punches, but now she wanted to be careful. She didn’t want to give Rhees any more reason to hurt. “Everyone knew they were shagging —” Claire cursed at herself again, but decided to just tell the truth, “—but they were also shagging others.” “One day, Shelly asked Ginger how

serious the two of them were. Ginger laughed so loud—everyone heard it when Ginger told Shelly he could sleep with whoever he wanted, but Shelly would have to be keen with taking her turn in a long line. That’s about when the Coitus Club was called to order, but back then, Ginger was the president.” Rhees looked confused, and Claire realized her memories of Ginger weren’t doing Rhees any good. “Rhees, I don’t think he loved her. I don’t think Paul’s ever been in love with anyone—until you.” “Why’d she leave?” Rhees looked down at her hands. “I’m not sure, exactly. Boredom? I

think she said something about the island being too small and boring, that booze was child’s play.” Claire had understood what Ginger meant by that, that the availability of drugs on the island was limited compared to the other places Ginger had lived, but she realized Rhees probably didn’t understand. She felt a sense of relief when Rhees didn’t ask her to clarify. Claire had lived in Thailand. She felt grateful she wouldn’t have to try to explain that culture to her innocent friend, or confess that she’d once been stupid enough to take part in it. She’d also dodged planting any suggestion in Rhees’ mind that Paul probably had too.

She’d hate to be the one to break it to Rhees, if he hadn’t already. “Ginger was always talking about going back to Asia, trying to convince Paul to go with her, but once he bought the shop, she got angry. She grew meaner and more unpleasant to be around than ever. The next thing I knew, she was on a plane out of here. I wasn’t a bit sad about it—I don’t think anyone was— including Paul.” Rhees looked skeptical of her opinion. Claire knew her friend was convinced that Paul had run off to be with Ginger. She didn’t believe it herself, but she didn’t know how to convince Rhees.

“You’ve got him blinkered.” “What?” “He only sees you.” Claire laughed. “In the four years I’ve known him, he’s never shown more than a roger interest in anyone, until you came along.” Rhees looked confused again. “Randy, horny, a desire to have his wicked way with—that’s all he ever wanted from any girl—until you. He loves you, Rhees.” “But he’s gone!” Rhees blurted out the obvious, again. “Without so much as a good-bye, it’s been nice knowin’ ya.” “You can’t know that. It’s too soon to know.”

“I told you. I do know.” Rhees hung her head and thought about Paul’s story. He left Florida, his friends, his home, his family. She had to let Claire know why she was so sure, without divulging too much. She would never betray him, no matter that he’d broken her heart, and left her for good. “This isn’t the first time he’s run away and never looked back.” The next few seconds were awkward. “Okay, so, we need to get up and running again,” Rhees finally said, squaring her shoulders and summoning all the courage she could manage. “Where do we start?”

“Well, I asked around.” Claire perked up, too. “Apparently, Gio knows a lot about computers. He said he’d help us get set up.” “That’s good.” Rhees thought it through. “Okay. Tomorrow, first thing, Gio and I will fly to the capital, get what we need, and be back on the three o’clock plane. Do you think that’s enough time—or should we leave tonight —spend the night at a hotel.” “You’re going to fly?” Claire asked, surprised. “That’ll cost.” “I don’t dare take the ferry alone.” She wouldn’t be alone, she’d have Gio, but she meant, without Paul. She didn’t believe anyone could protect her like

Paul. “The ferry means a long bus ride— I’m never taking another bus again—not in this stinking country. A taxi is bad enough. We’ll need a city big enough to find everything in one place. I’d rather not be running around to a million stores. I want in, and out, fast. The additional cost of flying is worth it to me, and we avoid all the smaller crime hubs we’d otherwise have to drive through.” Rhees paused. “Maybe we should take Dobbs.” Claire nodded, but didn’t look sure she wanted him to go. “His size will help scare off any punk muggers,” Rhees clarified her reasoning. Claire nodded again, still acting

unsure, and Rhees rolled her eyes. “You and Paul, both,” she groaned. “I can’t believe you two think I could possibly . . .” “It’s not you,” Claire said sheepishly. She looked away, ashamed. “You know he’s older, right?” Rhees laughed, shaking her head instead of answering, because Dobbs’ age, the fact was that he was not only older than Claire, but because he was older than most of the diving community on the island. “I was about your age when we met.” Claire glanced at her, waiting for a reaction. Rhees didn’t give her one, waiting for more explanation.

“He’s fourteen years older than me . . .” Claire kept adding pieces of evidence, her reasons for doubting, as though Rhees was supposed to understand. All Rhees knew for sure was that Dobbs loved Claire. “Rhees, he was married when we met.” Rhees finally did catch on, and her mouth dropped open in shock. Claire jumped in quickly to defend herself. “They were separated. She told him she didn’t love him anymore, that she’d found someone else. He waited until the divorce was final to . . . do anything with me, but he’d been fighting to save

his marriage, refused to sign the papers, until he met me.” “See? He loves you.” “I know.” Claire looked down. “I did anyway. That is until Paul made me doubt, the night Dobbs punched him. I’ve never seen Dobbs get violent, ever! Paul insinuated—it got me thinking. Dobbs’ interest in . . . me . . . has been a little . . . less. I can’t help but wonder—I was your age when we met, but I’m not your age anymore.” “So you think he’s looking to trade you in for a newer model.” Rhees sighed, finally grasping the fear her friend felt. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand. It’s just that, Dobbs isn’t like

that, and you know it.” Claire shrugged. “And you know Paul is a control freak. He’s really high-strung, and when he feels like he’s losing control of a situation, he strikes before he thinks, whether it’s with his fists or his words. I know he didn’t mean it.” Rhees cringed at her half-lie. They’d talked about it, and he’d apologized for saying what he had, but he still acted paranoid about Dobbs’ motives toward her. “The Mario thing just really freaked him out. He feels guilty that he wasn’t here to prevent it, and now, he thinks all other men are creepazoids, and he needs to go all caveman every time one of them gets

within fifty yards of me.” Claire laughed. “Yeah.” “Dobbs is not in the market for a newer, younger wife—especially me. He’s like a father figure, and a friend. You’re it for him.” “Then why doesn’t he want—” Claire let out a frustrated sigh. “I overheard my parents once . . . never mind.” Rhees looked away, thinking back on the trauma of hearing her parents discussing their sex life had caused her. She’d blocked out that memory until now. “What? Tell me.” “I think guys—older guys—at least my dad, apparently they . . .” She

swallowed hard, pushing through her discomfort at the memory. It made her feel stronger knowing she might have information that could help her friend, and that as hard as it felt to bring it up, she could. She refused to let it launch her into a panic attack or give her nightmares. “Has he had his prostrate checked? Maybe you should recommend he get examined by a doctor. I don’t think it’s you, or your ripe old age of thirty-four, Claire. And it’s definitely not me!” “Prostrate.” Claire looked thoughtful. “Huh.” “I won’t ask Dobbs to come with us,” Rhees said with a quiet sigh. She

put her hand on Claire’s arm. “Gio and I’ll manage.” oOo After squaring things around for her trip to the city the next day, Rhees puttered around the shop, putting on a good front, acting like everything was normal, and proving that she could be in charge. “You look tired Sweet,” Claire said, patting her on the back. “You’re doing a bloody good job with that brave face, but maybe you should go home and rest.” “That’s code for, go home and have a little breakdown, so you can come back and pretend some more, right?”

“Yes.” Rhees snorted a laugh and nodded. “I thought I was doing a better job than that, of hiding how I’d rather be somewhere else, alone, and crying my eyes out.” “Believe me, no one else knows, but you should go, take a couple of hours, and do just that. You’ll feel better again, until he comes back.” Rhees gave her a skeptical look. “All right. I know you don’t believe he’s coming back, so let it make you feel better . . . for a while, and if you’re right, you can do it again, and again, until . . . it’ll get easier, I promise.” Rhees nodded again, grabbed her

pack, and slowly headed across the street. oOo Rhees couldn’t cry as much as she thought she would, and found herself sitting on Paul’s bed with her back to the wall, writing in her journal, instead. It helped to put it down on paper, the fear that she’d never see him again. Writing it down somehow made it real, and necessary to find a way to come to terms with it. She set her pen down and looked around. From where she sat, she could see part of the living room below. She always thought it dark and dreary, and

small, so different than her old apartment with a different, bright color on almost every wall. She remembered thinking, the first time she’d seen his place, that it could use a coat of paint to brighten up the boring plywood walls. Sitting on the bed, remembering Paul’s objections to her being in it, ever, made her crawl to the edge, and off of it. She stood looking at it, imagining all the women that had shared that bed with him. He’d been right. That didn’t really bother her anymore, not really, or at least, not as much as it once would have anyway. But she understood why it bothered him. She looked at his closet, more than

adequate in size, Paul had a lot of clothes, but his toys occupied the bulk of the space. She glanced down at the living room again. The sectional couch took up more room than necessary, and again, his toys were stuffed in every nook and cranny. She knew why he thought her old apartment was so much better. The wheels started spinning, and the next thing she knew, she’d walked across the street, and stood knocking on Randy’s door. “How soon do you think we can put together a Williams’ family party?” she asked. “What’d ya need done, cuz?” Randy

answered. The rest of the afternoon, and into the evening, the most able-bodied of the Williams family painted, rebuilt the railing, and moved things around under Rhees’ direction. When the work was done, more family joined them to dance, eat pizza and drink on the shop’s deck— just another normal family get-together. At eleven, they all kissed Rhees goodbye, and went home. When they’d all gone, Rhees stood on the deck in a daze, thinking of all they’d accomplished in one day, but she couldn’t ward off the sadness any longer. She missed her husband—her best friend —the man she was sure she’d never see

again. She pulled the mat from under the gazebo, made her bed, and cried until she fell asleep. oOo Shopping with Gio was exhausting on the little sleep Rhees had managed the last few nights. She didn’t understand a word he and the shop’s tech said, all day, and she was sure it didn’t need to take so long, especially when their nonstop gibberish almost made them miss the last flight back to the island. While waiting for takeoff, she stared out the window of the puddle jumper, praying Paul would come running out of the airport, over the tarmac, up the

wheeled stairs, and into the plane at the last minute. She imagined his surprise to see her sitting on his plane—happy about it. She’d unbuckle her belt, jump into his arms, and they’d exchange exclamations of love and devotion, apologies and plausible explanations— didn’t happen. When they arrived back at the shop, Gio got right to work. The new phone was installed and ready to go in minutes, but the computers wouldn’t be up and running until the next day. That night, Rhees debated where to sleep, the deck, or at her newly remodeled apartment. She opted for the apartment, hoping the paint fumes would be tolerable twenty-

four hours later. She dragged herself across the street, onto the bed she and Paul had shared since May, and thanked God that the pillow from her old apartment still smelled like him. She hugged it all night, crying into it several times before the morning light broke through the living room window. She pulled herself out of bed, put on her brave, grownup panties, and headed to the shop to face the new day. oOo Rhees spent the better part of the fourth day doing what needed to be done. Diving had been therapeutic that morning, but the rest of the day, she felt

like a machine, a robot, doing everything expected of her, but even though she’d collapsed several times in her head, her body didn’t give her away. Gio had the computers up and running by noon, but as three o’clock approached, Rhees finally tapped out, giving Claire the signal that she needed a break. Claire gave her a sad, but understanding look, and Rhees took off. She raced across the street, unlocked the door, and leaped onto the bed, scampered to the head of it, where she folded herself into a ball, and stared at the door, waiting. She grabbed Paul’s pillow to her chest and rocked back and forth,

listening to the last plane of the day come and go. She said another prayer, but after thirty minutes, she told herself, again, like she had every day at three thirty, that Paul was never coming back. Saying it reset her hope timer back to zero, no hope the first eight hours or so, but eventually, slowly inching stronger until she found herself back in this position, waiting, holding her breath, until she was forced to face reality all over again, each day he didn’t show up. She grabbed her Whine List and started writing furiously, as she had several times a day since Paul left. As usual, the writing gave her clarity, but today, her clarity screamed of a decision

she didn’t want to make, but believed she must. With an agonized howl, she threw the notebook and the pen against the window, and watched as the pen ricocheted off the pane, clattering to the floor. The book landed open at the head of the bed. She left it, setting Paul’s pillow back in its spot, on top of the journal. Rhees went into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face to wash away any evidence of her crying. “Ouch,” she cried. “Dang it!” She bent over to pick up the pen after stepping on it, glared at it as if it should have known she didn’t need one more thing against her today, and tossed it onto

the bed before heading across the street. oOo “We’re in business again,” Claire announced, excitedly, as Rhees walked into the office and sat at her chair. “That’s good.” Rhees didn’t manage to sound very enthusiastic. She looked over her new computer, but let out a sigh. “Your break didn’t last long enough,” Claire said. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you get in some snorkeling?” “That sounds perfect.” Rhees actually smiled. “Are you sure? After four days, there’s got to be a million emails to get through—”

“I’ll get a start on them, but, like you said, it’s been four days. What’s one more?” “Thanks, Claire. I love you.” Rhees slipped by Claire and made her way to the closet where she and Paul stored their equipment. She bent over and reached in for her mask, snorkel, and fins on the floor, but when she had them in her hands, she straightened and noticed Paul’s scuba gear hanging there, unused since he’d been gone. She couldn’t help the quiet whimper that slipped out. Claire, suddenly behind her, closed the closet door so that Rhees would have to stop staring at his things.

“Love you too, Sweet.” They hugged, and then Rhees slipped into the water near the compressor room so she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone on the deck. She headed north, letting one of her favorite pastimes soothe her. With her mask and snorkel on, her face in the water up to her ears, Rhees didn’t hear the sound of the plane fly in and land. No one expected another plane to come in. The three o’clock plane was always the last plane to land each day.

Chapter 25 aul hoped his impatience didn’t come across as hostile, but he wished the plane he’d chartered had a bigger crew than just the pilot. It seemed to take

forever for the man to get to the door and let the stairs down. He’d started to do it himself but got chewed out, so Paul waited, biting his tongue. Paul thanked him, handed him a tip, which the man graciously accepted before climbing back onto the plane, taking off. Paul let out a grateful sigh to be home. He took a deep breath of the air he’d missed, looked around the deserted airstrip, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and started jogging, knowing the taxi would show up eventually. Ignacio’s most important business strategy meant paying attention to the

P

planes that landed so he could taxi people to their destinations. Paul’s flight wasn’t expected, but he doubted too many people had missed the sound, or noticed the unscheduled aircraft landing and taking off again. oOo Paul handed Ignacio the fare and a generous tip, then made his way across the Plank, worried about the reception Rhees would give him after taking off the way he did. He stealthily ducked his head into the office, but didn’t see her, so he proceeded around the corner to look for her. He made the full circle around the

shop, asking for Rhees along the way, but no one had seen her for hours. When he reached the other side, he walked through the Tunnel, into the office again, just in case he’d somehow missed her. Seeing the office put back together made him feel guilty, and even more apprehensive about finding her, and trying to make it right. It had to have been a chore to clean up his mess, but it looked better than he’d expected after only four days. Claire sat working at her station, as usual, but he didn’t recognize either computer, and it surprised him that they’d come up with the means to replace the higher ticket items without

him. He remembered the credit card he’d given Rhees, but he had trouble believing she’d actually used it. Claire looked up, obviously saw him, but turned her attention back to her screen without an acknowledgement. He didn’t blame her. “She around?” He winced, and waited for Claire to rip him a new one, but she still ignored him. He swore under his breath, at himself, not at Claire’s response to him. He deserved that. “Look, I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have taken off like that. I’m sorry, okay? I just need a chance to convince her. Do you have any suggestions for how I do that?”

Claire acted as if he wasn’t there. He sighed in frustration. “Please, Claire. I’m an idiot when it comes to her. I’m going to need your help to make this right.” Claire finally swiveled her chair around to face him. “I’m done helping you drag that girl through the wringer. If she forgives you, that’s her choice, but you’re on your own.” “Claire,” he begged, but gave up, understanding her point. “I need to change my clothes. Is she there, at my place?” He tried to sound hopeful. He watched Claire, waiting for any clue, but nothing. He walked across the street,

slowly, his head down, still trying to formulate what he needed to say to Rhees, sure he’d find her at his apartment. The lock hung on the door, fastened, which meant Rhees wasn’t there, and it confused him, worried him. He had no idea where she could be now that she’d given up her spot at Oceanside. He needed to find her, but he also needed to get out of his clothes. He’d been wearing the same jeans for days. He opened the door and took a step inside before stopping. He took the same step back, looked down the row of apartments, counted the doors, sure he’d just opened the wrong one, as

impossible as that had to be, that his key would fit one of the other padlocks. He looked inside again, looked outside once more. “What the—” Sure enough, he had the right apartment, the first one on the row. He ran his hand through his hair, looking for a possible motive. “She’s nesting,” he muttered. His mind kept circling back to the one reason he couldn’t shake. “Oh God,” he moaned, and then he cursed, drawing out the word. “She’s pregnant.” Instead of his large couch and coffee table, the bed sat before him, against the window, straight ahead, facing the door. The TV still hung in the corner, to his

right, but had been remounted, higher up on the wall. It didn’t make sense. It would still be watchable from the bed, but the original mounting would have been better, so he was confused. His toys that once adorned the now brightly painted walls had been replaced with the pictures and wall decorations from Rhees’ bedroom at Oceanside. After a full minute of nervous ticking, punch-drunk by what he thought was the only conceivable reason for the way his apartment looked, he finally snorted a laugh and shook his head in wonder. “I need to find her,” he said aloud after he caught his breath. He smiled,

feeling more hopeful now—now that he had one more, very important reason he could use to convince her—she’d have to forgive him. He raced up the ladder stairs to the loft, and it shocked him again to find his coffee table, and half of his couch, set close to the railing that was now shorter than before. The seating area overlooked the room below, and the line of vision met up perfectly with the higher mounted TV. The closet had been rearranged too. His clothes were still there, but now hers were too. Again, his sporting equipment was missing, replaced by her things. He’d heard men complain about

having to give up their toys to keep the wife happy, but surprisingly, he really didn’t mind. He shook his head again at how well she’d thought it through, but also wondered how she’d pulled it all off in only four days. He agreed with the arrangement, the way Rhees had switched up the purpose of the two rooms. It was a clever idea, one he’d never thought of, but it actually made sense to make the biggest room in the apartment their bedroom, the room in which they’d be spending the most time. He’d always hated how confined the loft made him feel at night, the reason he’d only ever slept there when he had

someone with him, keeping his mind off the feeling that the walls were closing in on him. He really liked having the bathroom on the same level as the bedroom too, no more running up and down the steep stairs in the dark. He’d worried about Rhees falling, one of the reasons he’d never wanted her staying there. Rhees had unwittingly resolved most of the objections he’d had about her moving in —except the biggest one—he’d have to call Fahtima and see about having her people deliver another mattress. The apartment looked so different, it gave him hope that he could get past his past, but he’d never be able to make love to

Rhees in that bed. Thinking about it reminded him—he needed to find his wife. He hurried to change, tossing his dirty clothes over the back of the couch. He knew it would drive Rhees crazy to leave them there in a heap, but he’d pick them up later, after he made more important things right. He slipped on the first pair of swimming shorts he found, and started down the ladder. He’d been so surprised at the changes Rhees had made, he hadn’t thought anything about the condition of the apartment, but now things started to stand out. The dishes had not only, not been washed, but lay scattered between

the kitchen, and now bedroom, food still on them, showing him how little she’d eaten the last few days, and she’d never leave food around. Bacteria farming, she called it, and said she could never be a farmer. The bedspread had been pulled up, but lay wrinkled and messy over the bed. She always made the bed. The clothes she’d worn the last few days, hung over the backs of the chairs at the breakfast bar, over the door to the bathroom, and the floor. The place was a disaster—not really, but for Rhees, the clean-freak— not a good sign. He sat on the edge of the bed, still looking around, thinking she was even

more upset than he’d imagined, and he’d imagined it would be pretty bad. He pinched the bridge of his nose and forced out a long, heavy breath. “Aw, Baby,” he said, feeling his chest tightening. “I’m so sorry.” He felt something under him, poking his hamstring, and he stood to see what he’d sat on. He found a pen and set it on the nightstand, where he noticed a cell phone he didn’t recognize. He chuckled. She’d actually replaced her phone, something he hadn’t gotten around to doing yet, but it was just like her to leave it behind when he really needed to find her. He noticed the pillows. Both had

tear stains, and he ran his fingers over them, beating himself up. He picked one of them up, hoping to smell her scent, but noticed a notebook under where the pillow had been. He could see the writing on the page where it lay open, and after reading a few lines, realized what he was looking at. He’d found Rhees’ Whine List. Paul once said that it was bad enough to fall in love, but to fall in love with your opposite only made it worse. He’s wrong. Opposites attract, so the saying goes. I believe there’s a reason for that.

The strengths of one, balance out the weaknesses of the other, so that together, two imperfect people become one perfect unit. Paul stared at the words. A minute later, he ignored his conscience, telling him not to intrude on her most private thoughts, and flipped through the pages, skimming over what she’d written. He finally just turned to the beginning and started to read. Knowing he shouldn’t do something had never stopped him before. The journal began when she’d dropped out of college to help take care of her mother. She’d just broken up with Sean when they found out her mother

was ill. Rhees was only nineteen at the time, too young. Rhees nursed her mother until her death, a year and a half later, and then, Rhees took on all the responsibilities of caring for the house, and her father. Through the pages of her mourning, she spoke of her desire to learn to dive, to do something courageous, but that she was too chicken to follow through with anything. Paul knew her well enough. She was just too selfless to leave her father. He didn’t need to be a full-time job and yet, Rhees’ empathetic heart would never allow her to leave him to mourn on his own. Paul read on. There was a long break in her

writing when she’d gotten over the worst of her bereavement, but her entries started up again when they discovered her father’s illness, shortly after Rhees’ twenty-fourth birthday. He hadn’t been himself, but she’d discounted the symptoms because he’d never been the same after losing his wife. Of course, she blamed herself for not seeing the signs and getting him to a doctor sooner. He died November second, only two and a half months later. Paul wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he read her thoughts, her fears, during the illness and his death. She shouldn’t have had to go through that, and he wished he could have been there for her. He said a quick

prayer, thanking God for sending Mrs. Michaels to help. Paul continued reading through her decision process about what to do with the rest of her life, her surprise when she found out her father had life insurance. She didn’t know until after he’d passed, but he’d purchased the policy during her mother’s illness, while he continued to tell her he didn’t believe in it. Paul had been paying attention to the dates—that was just the way his brain worked—always analyzing, picking apart the details. He’d think about where he was at each point while Rhees was going through everything. He’d wince in shame at the timing of various events.

She became obsessed with learning how to dive, even though the thought of it scared her to death. He read through the process she used to figure out the best way to go about it, her decision to come to the island . . . Paul rubbed his face, overwhelmingly grateful she’d chosen his island over the others on her short list. Her comments about other people were always kind and considerate, even toward the people that hadn’t treated her especially kind in return, and she always looked for an excusable reason for their actions. He found himself laughing aloud at her thoughts of him during their first few

weeks, how surprisingly kind they were, considering. She wrote of her concern for him, and her theories of why he acted like such a ‘butthead’, theories she used to excuse him for his behavior. “Aw Rhees, you’re just too damned sweet for your own good.” He wondered how he’d ever doubted her pure heart, and he made a promise to himself to make it up to her somehow. He read on. There were fewer and fewer entries as they spent more and more time together. She’d apologize to herself for not writing more often, but she explained that she only wrote when she was troubled, and she claimed to have no troubles at the time. She expressed her

gratitude for such a perfect life. He grimaced when she mentioned how perfect she thought he was. He honestly didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d been so sure he’d ruined her life, but he could see in writing, her own point of view, how happy he’d made her. How could he begrudge that? There were a few entries through their engagement, and then an understandable break after the wedding and hijacking, but her writing increased steadily after the dressing room incident and since being back on the island— home, she called it, and she drew a big heart around the word every time she’d written it. Some days, since being back,

she’d written more than once in a day, indicating just how much he’d hurt her. He scrunched up his face in an attempt to stem back the tears threatening to fill his eyes. Reading her innermost thoughts, she was honest about them in her journal. She’d never say any of those things to him—of course she wouldn’t—that might hurt his feelings, and she couldn’t bear that, no matter how much he deserved it. The few things she had said during their many fights hadn’t done any good—he’d refused to listen—to believe her. He started reading the next entry, and the inclination to cry died, completely.

His interest was suddenly piqued when he reached her description of the night he’d stayed on the mainland to get drunk, even if it did make him cringe to see her account, in detail, of how he’d made love to her on the deck. “What a wonderful thing an orgasm is—my first one,” she’d written. “I want to spend the rest of my life in bed with Paul, letting him make me feel like that again, and again, and again. Watching him have one too, knowing I did that to him, might just be even better than having my own.

I’d like to experiment with that thought.” He still didn’t remember it. He shouldn’t have been drunk for that. He’d robbed himself of that honor and he’d never forgive himself. He missed her more than ever. The day he left, he’d known the second his plane landed, that he should have taken her with him. He hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place, but he needed to. He’d been so terrified, he couldn’t think straight. He regretted it even more as he read how miserable she’d been the last few days, since he’d run out on her. He

didn’t understand how she could possibly think he wasn’t coming back. A chill ran down his spine at what he read next. She spoke of diving, the only passion in her life, now that she no longer had him. Diving gives me clarity, and when I can’t be diving, snorkeling is the next best thing. I wish I could snorkel forever, just numbly drift off into the sunset and forget everything, forget him. Ha! Like that’ll ever happen. I’m just hanging on to anything I can right now, hoping this pain will get better with time,

someday, maybe when I’m old and grey . . . who am I kidding. I’m never going to get over him, but I have made up my mind. It feels like I’ve been knifed in the heart, and tomorrow, I’m going to insert the knife back in the same wound and twist it around. I don’t want to do it, but I have to. I’ve learned a lot about myself the past year—the past month—Paul used to be here, helping me figure it out, but now he’s gone, done with me, and I’m scared to death. I wasn’t this scared when I lost my dad, the last person on this earth who I could rely on.

Is Paul coming back? What if I never see him again? What if he does come back—with her? It’s time to put what I’ve learned into action. I know that I can’t just sit around, waiting, and wondering, being afraid of what might, or might not happen. Like the fears I’ve already faced, and conquered, I have to face these new ones, head on, and hope that by so doing, maybe the shadows they are casting in my mind, won’t seem so scary anymore. So, no matter how much it

hurts to act, this thing will eat me alive if I don’t take control of my life. It’s about time! And so, I’m meeting with Barton tonight at six thirty, to draw up divorce papers. He said he’ll explain what I’ll have to do if we can’t find Paul to serve them. Taking the bull by the horns . . . Oh dear God, please help me. There were no more entries and Paul stared at the page, no longer seeing it, just staring.

Chapter 26 hees tossed her fins, mask, and snorkel onto the deck, and pulled herself up the ladder. It surprised her to see so many people still around even though it had to

be after five. She confirmed it by checking the borrowed watch on her wrist. The sun would be setting soon. “Why is everyone still here?” she asked Tracy. “Still no schedule.” “Claire said she’d put it—” “Claire took off, right after Paul showed up.” Rhees’ heart fell—she’d swear she felt the thunk—low in her gut. Breathe! She couldn’t remember how. As if things weren’t bad enough, some of the other people on the deck started chattering, all at once, while pointing to the street. She looked to see what the fuss was all

R

about, just in time to meet Paul’s eyes as he stepped onto the Plank. “Ah,” she whimpered, because she couldn’t find her voice, or words. She just stared, with her heart hammering away in her chest and her mouth hanging open. Paul hesitated in his step when their eyes met, but his expression intensified even more. He seemed to need to process that it really was her, but once assured, he quickened his determined pace, bearing toward her. “I would never want to be you right at this every minute.” Regina took a step back, away from Rhees. “What did you do?”

It took Rhees a second to answer Regina, to process the question, or the fact that Paul had really returned, or take her eyes off him as he pounded his way across the Plank, toward her, mouth taut, jaw set, his hands balled into fists. His eyes bore into her while his body language screamed fury. Regina took, yet another step back, giving herself a wide berth. The smart girl knew him better than anyone else on the island, besides Rhees. “Nothing,” Rhees finally squeaked out. She began backing up, slowly at first, but the closer he got, the faster she moved until she’d backed herself to the

corner of the deck, just in time for him to block any hope of a dry escape, if she found herself needing an escape. She glanced down at the water behind her, but the thought of jumping in reminded her of swimming the channel to get away from him. She’d been working on not running away from scary. She refused to run, and then, with great resentment, asked herself what he could possibly be angry about? “Barton?” he asked incredulously when he reached her, his eyes flashing with anger and exasperation. She folded her arms, thinking it would make her look less fazed, and hopefully hide her trembling hands from

him. She knew of only one reason he could possibly know about Barton and steeled herself with her own indignation. “Not only did you take off without so much as a word,” she spat out, working hard to keep her voice steady, “you read my journal?” “Okay,” he stammered, blinking nervously as she’d thrown him off point. “So I won’t be receiving any nominations for Husband of the Year.” He looked contrite, but only briefly, until his anger won over again. “But you didn’t have to go and set an appointment with Barton!” “You left me,” she hissed. “What was I supposed to do?”

Paul’s eyes finally ran down Rhees’ camisole-less, bikini-clad body, and up again. He seemed to lose his train of thought. In the meantime, Tracy had run to get Dobbs. “Paul,” Dobbs said, casually, coming around the corner. “You’re back.” Paul ignored him, choosing to loom over Rhees instead, ogling her, acting disoriented. Seeing Rhees in that white bikini again—Paul didn’t need to see that right now. He rattled his head to shake away the confusion muddling his thoughts. He needed a clear head. He’d learned some

things, had a few revelations, come to some conclusions the past four days— the last hour—and he wanted to talk to her about them, alone. “We need to talk,” he puffed out. “No,” she whispered back. She looked down, he did too. “You left me. You left me for her. I can’t do this anymore, Paul. It hurts too much. It hurts more than I can bear.” “But I’m back.” He leaned down, getting in her face so she’d see him when he tried flashing one of his smiles. “Her —what?” “Ginger, Paul.” Rhees closed her eyes, avoiding his attempt to break her down with his charm. “I saw the email.

You read it, and took off . . . to get her back—because she wanted you back.” Rhees finally looked up at him, her eyes were pooled with tears, and he wondered how they could hold so much without spilling down her cheeks. “Rhees, Baby.” Paul tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed away. “Don’t Baby me,” she yelled, or whisper yelled, attempting to keep their public conversation private, because everyone in the whole world was standing around, watching. “Everyone leave,” Paul growled. He turned to glare at them. “But the schedule,” Tracy said. “Fu—” He sighed, and toned down

his response, trying to let Rhees know he wasn’t wound as tight as she suspected, though he really was. “Forget about the schedule. Tomorrow, we’ll dive in the afternoon. Be here by two, and we’ll work it out then.” He’d wasted too much time getting that out. Rhees, the only meaningful thing he had in his life, needed his full attention. “Listen, Baby,” he started. “I know I said it didn’t matter,” Rhees started over the top of what he was about to say. “But it does, after all. I can’t, Paul. This marriage has been a nightmare—it’s my fault, I don’t blame you—but I need to stop this ache in my

heart, and I need to stop making you so miserable. I need you to stop trying to change for me—” “It’s interesting you’d say that,” he chuckled, but he couldn’t help but worry. “That’s exactly what I need to talk to you about.” Rhees shook her head. Her eyes had finally reached their capacity, and the tears started rolling down her face. He stepped a little closer again, to try and hold her, but like the first attempt, she held her arms out as a barrier. “Rhees?” “Paul,” Dobbs said, putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder. Paul turned to give him the evil eye,

but Dobbs didn’t back away. “Why don’t you give Rhees some time? You took the time you needed to do whatever the hell you took off to do. It’s only fair you give her a little time to settle all this in her mind.” “Rhees?” Paul begged, and then he desperately grasped at the only thing he had left. “What about the baby?” He heard a collective gasp from their spectators, and he glanced around again, wondering why they were still there. “What baby?” Her head popped up and she finally looked him in the eye again. She didn’t look happy. “You got Ginger pregnant?”

“What?” he choked, perplexed. “Ginger? What? You’re not pregnant?” He really wished he could get her alone to talk about everything. “No!” she answered resentfully, and then, with gritted teeth, asked, “Is Ginger?” “What does Ginger have to do with anything?” He threw his hands in the air and stared at her, trying to figure out what she was talking about. She turned her back on him, shaking her head like she was disgusted with him. “Come on, Rhees.” Spurred by sheer desperation, he grabbed for her arm, needing to gain some ground after losing so much of it. “We’re getting out of here

so we can talk.” Dobbs’ hand smacked Paul’s away as the big man stepped between the fighting couple in a threatening manner. “Let it go, Mate,” Dobbs said. “I really need you to stay out of this, Mate,” Paul said through clenched teeth. His temper had already been knocking against what little reserve he had left. “She’ll talk to you when she’s good and ready,” Dobbs cooed back, not backing down. Paul’s mouth opened to say something, but he closed it again, and looked back at Rhees, who’d turned to see the pending brawl between the two men. He figured out that knocking Dobbs

into tomorrow wasn’t going to help his case, so he gave up on that idea. He gave Rhees another disbelieving, desperate look, begging her to walk off with him, but she glanced down, declining his offer with her body language. Paul finally turned away, paused, and then started to walk off, slowly. The moment he sensed the gathered crowd relax, and start to disperse, he turned again, forged his way back, and before anyone knew what he had planned, he’d pushed Rhees into the water. Rhees went under, and he watched as she fought her way back up, splashing

more than necessary as she broke the surface. She floundered around for a second while seeming to process how she’d ended up in the ocean. Paul turned and grinned at Dobbs. “As I was saying,” he said, politely, “I need to have a conversation with my wife.” With that, he dived into the water and came up behind Rhees, slipped an arm around her shoulders, and started dragging her out to Frock. oOo For the first two seconds, Rhees considered trying to fight Paul, but she knew him to be too strong a swimmer. She didn’t stand a chance, so she let him

drag her farther and farther away from the deck, coughing and sputtering because she’d swallowed water and got some up her nose during her unexpected plunge. “I told you,” she growled. “I don’t want to hear about you and Ginger.” “Okay, I won’t talk about me and Ginger.” He kept swimming. “Whatever that has to do with anything, but you’re going to listen to what I have to say.” With a frustrated growl, she let herself go limp, and allowed him to drag her along to his heart’s content. He reached Frock and planted his feet solidly on the cement block below, turning her to face him.

“Hang on to me. You’re too short to touch,” he said. She gave him a defiant look, and tried to put her feet down anyway. He let his eyes roll up to watch the reddening, evening sky for a few seconds, impatiently waiting for her to figure out he was right. On tippy-toes, her face broke the surface, but the gentle swells lapped against her nose, making her panic to catch each breath. “Are you done?” he asked while arching a brow, and held out his hand for her to grab. She didn’t waste time grabbing for it, and she used it to pull herself closer so she could hook an arm around his

neck. He put his hands around her waist and closed his eyes with a contented sigh. She didn’t like that she’d given him that, but breathing was more important than her dignity at the moment. “That feels good,” he said quietly, his eyes still closed. “I’ve missed you.” “Huh,” was all she gave him, and he opened his eyes to look at her, probably to assess his strategy. “Rhees, I don’t want a divorce.” “Neither do I, but . . . I love you too much to keep making you so miserable.” “Why do you keep saying that?” He shook his head. “I told you this would happen,” she started. “You’ve never wanted to get

married, but for some reason, we did anyway, and I’ve done nothing but make you miserable since.” “That’s not true.” “You can’t lie about this one. I was there, remember?” “Where is this coming from? Wait —” The crease between his brows grew deeper. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.” “No. It’s my fault. I should have told you about my past—” “This has nothing to do with your past,” he cut her off. “This is about me being an idiot. I held you to an impossible standard, I know that, now. Not even you could have lived up to that.

I pulled the Weaver family expectation card on you, but now that I know that, I won’t let it happen again, and I’m sorry.” “I don’t understand a word you just said.” “I know. You missed an important session with Keene.” Rhees pursed her mouth into a tight line. “Not Keene again,” she jeered. She rued the day she ever met the good Dr. Keene. “That’s it. I’m suing him for breaking up this marriage. He filled your head with a bunch of crap that has nothing to do with us, but you’d rather hang on to every word he said than

believe anything I’m trying to tell you.” “I did that too. I’m sorry.” “You’re saying that a lot, again.” “You want a list?” Paul smiled, attempting humor to diffuse her anger, as usual. She knew he was referring to his first try at an apology, on Duna Caye. “So you can decide which, of all my blunders, you’ll forgive me for?” “You, trying to be cute, is not going to work this time. This is too serious.” “I am cute, no trying required.” He tilted his head, flashing her one of his best smiles. She had to look away to avoid the temptation to smile back, and to plant her mouth on the gorgeous lips she’d missed.

“Here goes. I’m going to work my way backward. First, I’m sorry I pushed you into the water. I’m sorry for reacting with anger, to your . . .” His brows furrowed again, thinking about what she planned to do. He thanked God he made it back before she had a chance to follow through with it. “To your ap-point-ment—” His lips popped on the P’s and T’s, venting the lingering anger he still felt about it. “With Bar-ton.” He popped the T again, giving her a stern glare. “I thought this was an apology.” “Just promise me you won’t do that again.” “I’m not promising anything,” she

snapped and they stared each other down. Paul gave in first, he rarely gave in first, but Rhees looked so fierce and unforgiving, he didn’t dare push it. “Okay. Where was I?” He reeled in his negative emotions, setting himself back on track. “I’m sorry I read your journal. I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner, but I didn’t dare come back until I knew for sure, but then I ended up staying an extra day, and when I finally realized I had to get back, I couldn’t get a flight that wouldn’t miss the three o’clock plane—” “You took the ferry?” “No. I chartered a private plane. I wanted to get back to you as soon as

possible.” “Why?” “Why do you think?” He snorted a laugh. “Because Ginger refused to take you back, after all.” Paul ran through his facial routine, trying to come up with possible reasons why Rhees suddenly seemed so obsessed with Ginger. He thought back to the day he’d run off. He’d been on a whirlwind of a ride since that day, and he’d almost forgotten why he left in the first place, but now, he remembered clearly. The look on Rhees’ face came to mind, when he first realized she’d

witnessed him in one of his, not-so-fine moments, smashing everything in sight— the way she stood there—shocked, bewildered, frightened. Since the beginning, despite his immature efforts to intimidate her, she’d always refused to show fear, of him or his behavior. Tough as nails, he thought, until that moment. “You saw the email?” he asked after clearing his throat, because shame had kicked him in the gut, but also because he just realized she’d been standing there in the office, behind him, longer than he realized. She nodded, and he could tell she was about to choke up. He glanced down

in disgrace. “Rhees, I’m sorry—” “Stop saying that!” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I didn’t run off to be with Ginger. She’s a friend, nothing more. I’m sorry for what I put you through, but I did nawt run off to resume our relationship— which never really was a relationship. We didn’t break up, because there was nothing to break. We just . . . parted ways.” “Don’t lie to me. I told you, I saw the email. She said she regretted leaving you—wished she never had.” Rhees sniffed. “And then you couldn’t get back to her fast enough—oh, yeah—you did

take the time to smash up everything else I love, like giving me the finger before you left.” He laughed. He couldn’t help it, but he stopped when Rhees narrowed her eyes at him. “You apparently didn’t read the entire message.” He tried to lean his forehead against hers, but she turned her head. “She’s sick,” he spat out. “No, I’m not! Being assaulted is not an illness . . . and I’m working on it—” “Ginger!” he blurted. “Ginger is sick!” He waited for it to sink in, and just like he knew it would, Rhees’ inherent

empathy immediately drained every ounce of her anger. “She’s contracted Tuberculosis,” he continued. “She hadn’t been well for some time, but she ignored it, selfmedicated away the symptoms. By the time she finally made it to a doctor—if she’d just seen a doctor sooner—she might have had a chance. But now, the odds of surviving it are not good.” Paul glanced at Rhees and felt himself start to lose his composure, haunted by thoughts he had yet to share. “She’s HIV-positive, probably has been for a while.” “I’m so sorry.” Rhees’ countenance fell. “I jumped to the wrong conclusions.

You were upset. You ran off to support a dying friend—and I—I’m so—” He pressed a finger to her lips, once again in awe of her compassionate soul. “That’s what you would have done —probably not the smashing things up part—but no, Rhees—I went to Texas.” “What?” she cried out, her face the picture of incredulity. “Are you kidding me? You don’t have to have me committed to get rid of me. I know you’re unhappy. I’ll keep my appointment with Barton. We can go together. I won’t fight you on anything. I’ll leave—” “To get tested!” he yelled over her outburst. “I flew to Houston to get tested,

because I’ve never been tested . . . and I haven’t exactly been the pillar of careful.” Rhees stopped talking a million miles a minute and just stared at him, confusion all over her expression. “Listen.” He felt his eyes fill a little. “When I left home, Florida . . .” How did he get here? He didn’t want to relive all this again, but he had to. It was time, because Rhees had to know. “The gun misfired, and I didn’t have the courage to try again, but I didn’t stop wanting to put an end to the tormenting memories, and the suffocating guilt. I couldn’t bring myself to take a quick way out again, but I—it didn’t keep me

from trying more passive, creative ways of getting the job done. “I took the first flight out of Miami and wound up in London. I met Mitch at an illegal warehouse party, and we hit it off as we bitched together about London’s cold, sucky weather. He talked about his cousin the dive instructor, diving, and living the life. He planned to join up with her, and said I should tag along. “I’d been drunk for days, so it didn’t take much to convince me to do anything. The next thing I knew, I was in Thailand, getting trained by Aislinn.” Paul’s eyes met Rhees’ with a knowing look. “I started calling her Ginger, because,

well, because she has red hair and freckles.” “You never call anyone by their real name,” Rhees added. Paul smirked, nodding his head. “She was mean as piss, and the wildest thing I’d ever seen. I finally told her she looked like Ginger on Gilligan’s Island—she didn’t— it’s almost an insult to Tina Louise, but I had to get her to stop punching me in the arm. I had a bruise for months.” “You could have just started calling her Aislinn.” “What’s the fun in that?” He smirked again.

So far, Paul’s story wasn’t setting Rhees’ mind at ease about Ginger, if that was his intention. They’d already established he had a thing for feisty girls who resented the nicknames he called them. “Thailand can be a pretty wild place, if you’re not careful,” he continued. “It wasn’t hard to get myself into trouble—dangerous situations. I hung out at the roughest bars, picked fights with guys bigger than me.” He paused and glanced down. She felt him shift on the block beneath them. “I’d smoked a little weed in my day, but . . . I started using drugs, all kinds —”

“After Pete died from—” Rhees gasped. “I know, right? But I wanted to forget. That’s where my relationship with Ginger came in, she’d been using for years. She’d been there longer and had connections.” Paul kept looking at Rhees, but each time he tried, his eyes skittered away, as if he was too ashamed to meet her gaze. “I kept pushing my limits, and I’d curse every morning I woke up—because I secretly hoped I wouldn’t wake up.” Rhees threw her other arm around his neck, and held on tight, wishing she could have taken away his pain. “Rhees?” He tried to pull himself

from her more intimate grasp, but she didn’t let him. “I spent the next two years messed up and stoned out of my mind, and yeah, I slept with Ginger, but I didn’t feel anything for her except . . . convenience.” “Okay,” Rhees breathed. “But the thing is . . .” Paul hesitated. Rhees could tell he didn’t want to go on, but he pushed forward. “She wasn’t the only girl I slept with.” “I already know you weren’t a virgin, and you already know I don’t care about your past.” He nodded, but didn’t appear to be put at ease. “Ginger was fine with casual. She

used me as much as I used her—she’d even bring friends over. We’d all get high, fu—uuh—romp.” He hesitated again. “She always had a party pack on her, or we’d just blunt, or blaze.” “What?” “Never mind.” He finally did meet her eyes for a second. They were sad. “I hope you never know a thing about what I just said.” He dropped his head and seemed to be thinking back in time. “Rhees,” he panted, closing his eyes. She wasn’t sure if his bottom lip started twitching or trembling, the difference meant he was nervous, or scared, but she couldn’t tell which. “I wasn’t careful!” He coughed out a

sob. “I didn’t care where the needles came from, if that was the flavor of the day, and I wasn’t especially selective about who I was with . . . and I didn’t always . . .” He sobbed again as he squeezed her to him in a desperate hold. “I didn’t always use a condom.” “Oh.” It was all Rhees could think to say. “I wasn’t careful, because I didn’t care. I didn’t care, because I didn’t know you were going to come into my life.” They shared a long pause, holding each other, sniffling into each other’s necks. “When I got that email,” he forced

out, and then gulped in a breath, “I read the words—Ginger is dying because she’d been careless . . . as careless as I’d been. I should have been upset or sad about that, but my only thought—” He painfully coughed out and sucked in gusts of air while desperately pulling on her, grabbing at her, trying to get closer, kissing and nuzzling her hair, her neck and face. “Aw, Baby.” He sobbed again. “I didn’t have a condom in Costa Rica. I woke up and found myself all over you . . . and the dressing room. Ginger is dying because she was careless and stupid, and I deserve the same—” He’d become too choked up to finish. Rhees

could only hold him and wait for him to recover. “Aw, Rhees. I—I thought I’d killed you! I was sure I’d infected the most beautiful, innocent, pure person I’ve ever known in this ugly, screwed up world.” “Are you?” she asked, not really sure she wanted to know the answer. “Infected?” “No,” he rushed out in a relieved gust. “Nothing. Not even an STD.” She felt so good in his arms, a little too naked for the moment, in her sexyas-hell bikini. He continued talking to keep his mind, and He, under control.

“So, you’re not pregnant?” he said in an attempt to get his emotional outburst under control. She shook her head against his. “Oh.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “My mom used to talk about nesting instincts in her patients. I just thought—when I walked into the apartment and saw the way you’d redecorated, I’d been so worried about convincing you to forgive me. I selfishly hoped you could be, thinking it might work to my favor.” She giggled and he had to look at her. He couldn’t believe she could laugh; let it go so fast, all the things he’d just confessed. He wanted to take it as a

good sign. “I just wanted to make it more like Oceanside. You were so angry with me for moving out. It felt like buying a ticket after the train had already left the station, but it gave me something to do, to get my mind off of you leaving me.” “It’s not that I mind that you moved out. You just caught me off-guard, that’s all. I was still trying to do what I thought I had to do, and the move chipped away at my resolve that much more. You swing a wicked axe, Baby.” He grinned. “You do deserve the best, and my apartment sucks. At least, it did. It looks great now, still small, but it feels like—” He brightened with a new idea. “Maybe we

could look into building a beach house on the north side.” “Paul?” she said quietly. Her eyes dropped down and she pulled away a bit from his thankful and relieved embrace. His first instinct was to pull her back, but he didn’t force it when her body stiffened. “I think I should keep my appointment with Barton.” “No,” he said. He refused to negotiate the matter. “You shouldn’t. I won’t let you.” “I’m not asking your permission.” She grew sullen again, and his heart thumped against his chest. He thought he’d succeeded in worming his way

back in. “I’m just telling you as a courtesy.” “Shit,” he mumbled. He licked his lips when he felt them start their usual, nervous motions. He pressed them together, tight, so they couldn’t move. “This isn’t working. I think—I think we’re just too far apart, like polar ends of a magnet. I’m miserable, seeing you miserable. I can’t do that to you anymore.” “Stop saying that.” He felt the panic building as his life crumbled away again, bit by bit. “Polar ends maybe, but on the same magnet. You said yourself, opposites attract.” “And you said, having nothing in

common only makes people miserable.” “I didn’t say that! I said—” He realized that what he had said wasn’t going to help his case. He mumbled the rest, “Falling in love with your opposite makes it even worse.” “Yeah, that.” The sarcasm dripped from her tone. “Sorry, I don’t have your super-duper memory, so I can’t quote everything you’ve said, word for word.” He drooped, feeling deflated. “Love sucks,” he commented mindlessly, thinking back on what he’d meant, living what he’d meant, the fact that his heart was cracking and threatening to break into a million pieces. She gave him a pained look, let

go of him, and started to swim away. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her back, blurting, “not loving you would suck even more. It would suck so much, I couldn’t bear it.” He clenched his hands around her hips and hung on tight so she couldn’t get away again. She didn’t fight him, but she’d turned herself off, trying to tune him out. “Opposites attract.” He grasped at all he had. “There’s a reason for that. The strengths of one, balance out the weaknesses of the other, so that together, two imperfect people become one perfect unit.”

“You don’t get to read my journal, and then throw my own words back at me,” she said. “Yes, I do.” “No, you can’t.” “I just did.” “Yeah, you did, but Paul, you’re not supposed to go around, reading people’s private thoughts, and then use them as ammunition.” “Since when do I follow standard guidelines of appropriate practice?” He tilted his head and raised a brow. “You know me better than anyone.” She stared at him while she, he thought, tried to come up with a retort. “But you love me anyway,” he beat

her to it. “For some reason.” She covered her face with both hands. His cockiness dissolved, thinking he’d made her cry again, but she massaged her temples like it was all giving her a headache. “You can’t file for a divorce. Not yet, not right when I thought I’d just finally figured it all out.” “What did you figure out?” “That I, of all people, shouldn’t have put so much expectation on you—I think you’re perfect—but I got carried away with my perception. So . . . when we . . . in the dressing room . . .” He slowed down, hoping he’d stop stammering. “I thought I’d discovered you might not be

perfect after all—and I felt betrayed— but I had no right to feel betrayed, because I had no right to hold you to my own perceived image, and I realize now, that what I did is the same thing I always thought my parents did to me—and I’m so, so sorry.” “I never said I was perfect. In fact, I’m sure you can correct me if I’m wrong, but I tried to tell you many times, the opposite.” “I know you did. I didn’t believe you, because you are as perfect as they come—I need to stop using that word.” She studied him for a few seconds. He waited with bated breath, hoping she’d forgive him.

“You figured that out all by yourself, huh?” “No, of course not,” he frowned. “Keene helped.” “Keene, again.” She puckered her beautiful lips, and he tightened his grip on her, knowing he’d made her mad enough to try and bolt again. “But that’s not all I figured out,” he rushed to plead his case, trying to sweeten the pot. “I couldn’t wait to get home to you. I had to tell you how sorry I was for the way I’ve been acting, but when I got here, I couldn’t find you, but I did find your journal. And we’ve already established that I breeched that trust, but reading what you’ve written,

all the thoughts and doubts running through my mind, they all came together. “I’d been beating myself up for ruining your life. I wanted you, I did everything in my power to keep you, and when things went to hell, because of what I thought was the result of my customary self-serving, self-indulgent, selfishness—” He sighed. “That’s a lot of self isn’t it?” She nodded but gave him no telling expression, good or bad, to gauge what she felt at the moment. “But as I read your life on paper, I started seeing—you know,” he said in a sing-song voice, “even though I am too self-confident, self-absorbed and self-

centered, I care about you even more than myself.” Her eyes glazed over with impatience. “What did you see, Paul?” “That we’re meant for each other.” “I’ve tried to tell you that.” “Yeah, so my gravestone will never read, ‘Here lies Paul, the most malleable man to have ever lived’.” Rhees stifled a giggle. Paul’s talent for using arrogant, yet self-deprecating declarations to make her laugh had disarmed her once again. She usually welcomed his ability to brighten situations that felt, to her, a lot like the

end of the world, but this time, she feared he might persuade her to change her mind. She believed in what she’d said about their relationship. She studied his attractive face, considering the sincere desperation in his pleading blue eyes. In the meantime, her arms involuntarily moved around his neck again, because, she told herself, she didn’t want to drown. Her height in the water made it too dangerous not to hang on, very closely. “Okay, so what finally made it through to that brilliant brain of yours?” “Funny you should mention my notso-brilliant brain, because if it were, it wouldn’t have taken me so long, but my

weird brain happened to be running an analysis on the dates of your entries, and pinpointing where I was at the time you were going through all the experiences you had to go through. You wouldn’t know this, but when you started writing about how much you wished you were brave enough to learn to dive, when you found out your mom was dying, that’s when I left Florida.” He raised a brow, expecting her to catch on, but she couldn’t see what that had to do with them now. “That’s when I met up with Mitch, and then Ginger, and when I became a dive instructor.” The light danced around in his eyes, making them sparkle. “It’s

all in the timing.” He smiled, getting excited. “Things were happening to you at the same time things were happening to me.” “Yeah. Of course, and?” “Let me try a new approach.” He swooped in for a quick kiss, ignoring her scolding expression. She liked it, but she wasn’t ready for him to know that. “God looked down from heaven, saw Rhees—What’s that look for?” He raised a brow. “You didn’t know I believe in God, did you?” “Yes, I knew.” She didn’t bat an eye, but he did, doubting her. “Almost every time you say, ‘Oh, God’, you sound like

you’re actually talking to someone, not just spouting a mindless exclamation.” He seemed to think about that, and nodded. “And you wouldn’t talk about dragging me down to hell—I mean heck, with you.” She knew she was taking her no-swear oath a little too far, but she couldn’t help it. She loved the cute, baffled looks he always made as it took him a second to absorb, or translate, what she was saying. “Unless you’ve put some thought into going there. The other night, you sounded pretty sure you’d already been darned to heck, and I don’t think people think about that stuff if they don’t believe in Gosh.”

She kept a straight face, watching his, waiting for her reward, and as usual, he didn’t disappoint. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he got it out, he closed it again. His eyes lost focus for a second before his gaze finally turned back to her with an unamused expression. “You sidetracked my awesome story.” He flashed a warning with his eyes, but then smiled, shaking his head. “Okay, so God said, ‘Oh, look. There’s sweet little Rhees. What am I supposed to do with her? She is so good. She is so pure and innocent; it puts her at a disadvantage. She has no idea what the world is really like. She doesn’t

recognize how some people can be evil and will hurt her. Poor girl’s doomed to fall prey to every feather-mucking creepazoid on the planet’.” “I doubt God says things like that.” She’d yet to warm up to his story. Paul ignored her. “‘She’s defenseless, poor thing.’ And then God looked on the other side of the world and shook his head when he saw me. ‘Then there’s Paul. What am I supposed to do with him? He’s bad, very bad. He’s made just about every bad choice he could possibly make in this life, and knows too fu . . .” Paul caught himself and grinned cleverly. “‘He knows way too much about the

world. If only there was a way I could give Rhees just enough of what Paul knows, to keep her safe, without corrupting her . . . too much. Hmm . . .’ God scratched his head and said, ‘That idea isn’t half bad. Paul could take better care of her than any of those puds she’s been dealing with her whole life.’ “I’ve only recently—like twenty minutes ago, realized what an idiot I’ve been to think you should be with one of those stupid puds, because they’re just like you. They don’t know any more about anything than you do! How are they supposed to look out for you?” Paul looked at her as if he expected

her to answer, but she was dumbfounded, wondering where he was going with his bizarre rant. “So that’s why God put his plan into action. He planted a seed in your pretty little head that you needed to learn to dive, even though you’re a lousy swimmer, you lived in the desert, and you were scared to death of the ocean.” He smiled, but continued before she could say anything. “Next, he planted a seed in your dad’s head that he should buy life insurance, even though your dad was against the whole idea. He did it, not knowing he was going to get sick so soon after.”

Paul kissed Rhees on the forehead because he’d mentioned the sad memory of her father. “But at the same time, he planted a seed in my head . . .” Paul noticed Rhees’ eyebrow shoot up. “I know. He has a lot of seeds, bear with me. So anyway, he planted a seed in my head that I needed to get my shit together . . .” Paul couldn’t help but sober as he reached the next stage of his analogy. He thought about how hard it had hit him when he read the pages of her journal, and noticed how everything related. “I needed to pull myself together . . .” He paused again to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t. “—

Because you were almost ready to need me.” Her eyes grew shiny and he knew his had too. “Rhees . . .” Paul cleared his throat. He didn’t take his eyes off her. “Your dad took out his insurance policy the same day—the exact same day that I decided I would never use drugs again.” Rhees’ expression remained confused, so he continued to connect the dots. “Mitch never got into the drug scene. He hated Thailand, so Ginger, Mitch, and I started drifting around Asia, picking up work as we went. We made it to India, Mitch met Shanni, and

suddenly, they were both talking about the Caribbean. Shanni mentioned this island, that it draws a lot of diving students.” “It hit me like a hammer over the head, the feeling that I just had to get here. Of all the places in the world, this island drew me to it. The second I got off the plane, I knew I was supposed to be right here—you see? I had to be here, I had to buy this shop, because this was where you were going to show up. God was ready to send you, too—here—to me. I had to be here, and you had to come here, because he needed us to find each other. He wanted us to get together so we could—” He squeezed her to him.

“Rhees! Opposites attract for a reason. The strengths of one, balance out the weaknesses of the other. God wanted us to be together so that one’s,” he set a finger on Rhees’ chest, “goodness would no longer have to be a weakness but rather, would become strength for the other.” Paul set his hand on his own chest. “You make me a better man, and my weaknesses become strengths because I’ll use them, no holds barred, for your safe keeping. You said yourself I make you feel safe, you know how far I’d go to protect you, do anything for you. “We balance each other. Together, we’re one—” A sudden thought brought

a cocky grin to his lips. “Come on. We owe it to my parents.” She looked confused. “Please be the other nine-tenths of my perfection, so their wish can finally come true.” They both laughed. “I’ll never be perfect, but together, we’re a more perfect unit—let’s strike the word perfect. I want to abolish that word from my vocabulary. We are opposites, but I am so attracted to you, you’re so beautiful, body and soul. God gave us to each other for the good of us both, that is, if you’ll still have me. He watched her, but then thought of one more coincidence he’d discovered. He

placed his hand against her cheek. “I was eleven years old when I had my first sexual experience. I didn’t want to believe you, that there was anything wrong with that, but after hearing about yours—Rhees—you were five. We’re six years apart in age. It was July eighteenth when Pete dragged me to that beach. I know you don’t remember the date, but maybe—I really think it was the same day.” Rhees’ eyes filled again, but she stared at him, waiting for, ready to accept what he said next. “That summer—that day—as terrible as it was, it shaped both our lives, set things in motion. It sealed our fates, our

destinies, forever.” oOo After taking several seconds to study each other, they fell into a loving, worshipful kiss, but it didn’t take long for that kiss to turn into something less reverent. “Let’s stop,” he said, breaking away. “No,” she whined, wrapping her legs around his waist. He let out a soft, tortured groan. “Not here. Not on Frock.” Something happened, he didn’t know what, but her whole body went rigid. “What’s wrong?” “What is it this time?” she asked,

gritting her teeth. Her angry eyes narrowed at him, and he had no clue where the vehemence had come from. “You’re always telling me no. You reject every single attempt I make to be close to you.” Her voice rose with each sentence. “Nothing’s changed! For all your grandiose speeches, all the beautiful things you just said, it’s just another lie. You don’t want me.” She pushed off from him and started swimming away. He blinked, dumbfounded, and missed the opportunity to catch her before she got too far away. He took off after her, it only took a second to catch up, but the water was too deep to stop, so he

followed her, trying to reason with her. She wouldn’t have it, and refused to respond to anything he said. She reached the ladder and started to pull herself up, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back into the water with him. “I want you,” he whispered, his tone almost begged. “Let go of me,” she yelled. “Keep your voice down.” He pointed up, gesturing to remind her they’d left spectators on the deck. “I’ll never have you on Frock, Rhees, and not in a public restroom, or a back alley somewhere.” He grimaced, remembering the dressing room.

“Blah, blah, blah,” she mocked, and started up the ladder again, but she always struggled with the first rung. “You know how much I hate the idea of disrespecting you, the way I’ve disrespected so many before. You’re different. You’re my wife.” She didn’t stop her ascent. He grabbed the other side rail, and followed her up, along the outside, trying to get her to look at him. “Same old, same old.” She stopped climbing, but continued to scorn him, “I’m sorry, but I can’t hear the words coming out of your mouth, because your actions are screaming so loud.” “Rhees, please, be reasonable. We

can talk this through. Please, stay and talk.” “I can’t.” She glared coldly. “I have an appointment to keep!” Paul deadpanned.

Chapter 27

R

hees watched Paul. He held perfectly still, not even his mouth moved, the muscle in his cheek, his eyes. He just glared off, at nothing, his eyes icier than

she’d ever seen. “Paul?” He blinked slowly and rolled his eyes to meet hers. He still didn’t say a word, and she didn’t like his expression, so she started scrambling up the ladder to get away. It felt like climbing on a treadmill, she couldn’t get herself up as fast as it felt her limbs should have managed the task. She reached for the top rung, but he lurched up, cinched his arm around her stomach, and he jerked her back into the water. She watched helplessly as he plunged in after her. The salt water stung, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him as she sunk below the surface.

The next thing she knew, he was dragging her under the deck, both of them immersed. The action had taken her by such surprise she hadn’t had a chance to get a good breath. She’d never been able to hold her breath for long. She fought, not as much to get away from him, but to get up for air, but Paul was too strong. By reflex, anyone being drowned would do the same thing—she kneed him in the groin. He released his grip on her and they both broke the surface, gasping for air. She used the timing to break away, and headed back toward the ladder, but he was on her before she’d moved more

than a few inches, pushing her under again, dragging her farther under the shop. Just as she was sure that she’d driven him to murder, his mouth covered hers with a kiss. She couldn’t believe him, that he’d have the audacity to actually give her one last kiss before he killed her with his own hands, whether he meant to or not. She tried to see his face through the haze of the water, refusing to believe he’d hurt her. She wondered how much longer she could hold it, every millisecond felt like eternity until she could no longer ignore the reflex screaming from her burning lungs, to

take that horrifying breath. Her lungs filled with, not water, but air—Paul’s air. She greedily accepted it, and stopped fighting him, throwing her arms around his neck, keeping her mouth locked tight on his, her trust in him renewed. He surfaced and drew in another breath. “Paul, I’m sor—” She didn’t get her apology out. He dived under again, not giving her the chance to finish, or catch a good breath again, but when his arms wrapped around her, and his lips locked on hers, this time in a real kiss, she gave in without a struggle. The kiss made her

forget everything, being under water, drowning, he’d already drowned her with his desire. She gasped against his mouth, drawing more of his air when he tugged at her bikini bottom, pulling the fabric between her legs to the side. Paul drew a sharp breath of his own, and then stilled when he placed He against the bare skin she usually kept private. With a quick stutter of breath against her mouth, he carried her to the surface for another lungful, holding the same pose. “Is this what you want?” he said, his voice nothing but a harsh rumble. He’d towed her far enough under the shop that he could set his feet down, in

the silt, and stand. With one hand, he guided her legs to wrap around his hips. “Because I’m taking it.” He slid himself along her seam and his eyes clouded over a bit, but their intensity didn’t lessen. He could be so intense. “You have two seconds to say no.” She bobbed her head in short, quick nods, watching him carefully, too stunned to speak, thinking through the blur of the last few seconds, and wondering how they’d ended up here. Without breaking eye contact, she tightened her hold around his neck, and squeezed him to her with her legs. He kissed her again, hard, and without dunking her. They were no

longer under water, but she still had trouble breathing because—because of how he kissed her, and how fast he’d connected them. Her mouth flew open and she drew in a breathy, staccato gasp at the sudden invasion to her body. He seemed to take pleasure in her reaction, chomping down on his lower lip, scrunching up his nose, watching her with a mix of lust, lingering anger, and adoration, all at the same time. She wondered, briefly, how his glacial eyes had such power to burn their way right through the resolve she’d worked so hard to build the last few days, but it was gone, and she didn’t miss it one bit. He smashed his mouth against hers

and took what he wanted from her lips, and with his hands, before he began taking elsewhere. This wasn’t like any of the other times. Paul was not like he’d been the other times, his movements so much more forceful and aggressive. “I can’t believe you groined me,” he hissed, moving his mouth to her jaw. “I can’t believe you tried to drown me,” she answered back, breathlessly. He responded, not with words, but with a change of angle and a growl that made her suck in a breath through her teeth. “Tell me you’ll forget about Barton.” He panted the demand into her neck, nipping her sensitive skin with his teeth.

“Yes.” She winced from the pain with each bite, but didn’t tell him to stop. She hung even tighter against him, lifting her head, exposing more skin for him to bite. “Yes, what?” “I won’t see him.” “Ever! Promise you’ll never mention, or even think about divorce again.” His eyes met hers, challenging her, as his teeth had made it to her bottom lip, and sunk into the tender flesh. She bit his top lip in response. “Yes.” “What was that?” he demanded, but his voice shook, giving away how close

he was. “I didn’t hear a promise.” “I promise,” she sputtered as she started to lose herself too. “You promise what?” He clenched his teeth together, hanging on, making it last, but only barely. “I promise to never mention, or think about divorce again.” “Good girl.” He kissed her. “I love you.” “I lov—” She lost the ability to speak, and he grinned his satisfaction before letting go himself. They convulsed together, clinging to each other, sucking in air. Paul covered her mouth with his, trying to keep her

quiet, not an easy task for either of them, coming down from such a raucous round of hot, steamy sex, but he didn’t want to share this with anyone, the feel of her, the taste, even the sounds she made. Rhees was his, and only his, and would forever be, only his. They couldn’t have held each other any closer and neither of them appeared to have plans to try anytime soon. “Aw Dani Girl,” Paul whispered, his lips plastered against her cheek. “You are so beautiful.” “Beautiful?” She huffed a quiet laugh. “How do you come up with the word beautiful after that?” “Are you kidding?” He pulled away,

just far enough to see her. “I finally got to see you—feel you. Mm!” She smiled, and it lit up his world. “Well, one that I wasn’t too drunk to remember, or too worried about hurting you to truly enjoy. I’m never getting drunk again. I prom—” She smashed her mouth against his to shut him up. “Don’t say it. Don’t make that promise.” “You’ve got to be like the first wife in the history of marriage who doesn’t want her husband to promise he won’t get drunk.” “Because you’re a runner, Paul. You need an escape route, and I’d take a plastered Paul over a no Paul, any day of

the week. I thought I’d lost you. I don’t want to go through that again.” His expression morphed between so many emotions. At first, he didn’t believe her, then he did, then he realized she was right, regret, remorse, and then . . . something else. “All right. I won’t promise not to,” he said as his mischievous grin stretched over his mouth. “But do you think that sometime . . . hopefully, in the near future, that maybe, just once, we could just . . . make love? No booze, no temper tantrums, insults, or even angry sex. As much as that was excellent, I still really, really, really want to just make long, gentle, tender, sweet love to you, in a

bed, the way it should have been our first time, pleeease?” “Yeah, maybe. Someday.” She giggled, but buried her face into his neck. “I’m sorry. I can only plead insanity.” She realized what she’d just said and pulled away again to look at him. “But don’t even think about committing me.” “What do I have to do to convince you?” He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “I should have taken you with me, but I ran out of here so fast, so worried about you, I didn’t think. It took three days to get all the results back from my tests. Anyway, I decided I didn’t want to risk coming home before I knew, so while I

waited, I went to check out Keene’s place. It’s a nice spa-like facility, a retreat. Not an institution!” “If you’d said, ‘Come to Texas with me’, I’d have told you where to go.” They both laughed. “You know,” he said, sobering. “There is another reason we should’ve waited. A very valid reason—not just an excuse—as opposed to, ‘I don’t desire you’.” He gave her a pointed look. “I didn’t wear a condom just now. Thank goodness I’m clean, but you do understand, we may have just made a baby, right?” “Maybe the salt water will act as birth control.”

“Maybe that’s what the fifteen-yearold girl thought when she got pregnant at Sea Camp.” When Paul saw the look on her face, he quickly added, “With one of the other boys. It wasn’t me . . . that time.” “Oh.” She looked relieved. “I’m not worried about it,” he said, “are you?” “You’re not worried I could be pregnant?” He shook his head, and Rhees tried to smile, but he could tell she didn’t believe him. “What’s with the new bikini, all of a sudden . . . without the clever tankini lookalike idea?”

“Oh, you noticed.” She feigned innocence. “I honestly didn’t think you did.” “I noticed,” he said dryly. He hesitated, carefully thinking through his next question. “On a scale of one to ten, how important is it to you to wear a bikini around all day, without a coverup? I mean, I don’t want you to feel like I’m being too bossy, or controlling, or like I’m holding you down, but—” “Uhhh . . . Are you sure about that?” She smiled slyly. “Cuz I distinctly remember you holding me down—just a few minutes ago. You were pretty bossy and controlling too.” “And I’ll have no problem doing it

again, if you don’t watch that smart, beautiful mouth of yours.” “Promises, promises.” She winked at him and he chastised her with his eyes before he smiled like a lunatic. “The thing is, marrying you—no, it started before that—just knowing you, for some reason, it brings out the Neanderthal in me. I really, really like that you waited, and that I’m the only— and I know that isn’t fair, given my history, but I’m surprised at how . . .” He paused again, humbled. “I wish I hadn’t cheated on you.” Her smile fell. “No! Not like that—I mean—I wish

I’d saved myself for you the way you saved yourself for me. I am overwhelmed with the thought, knowing we were meant to be together, our whole lives—I wish I’d waited, and I’m sorry I didn’t. It touches me more than you can know, and I really, really don’t want other guys ogling what’s mine.” “Zero.” “What?” “On a scale of one to ten, zero. I’ll never wear just bikinis again. I prom—” She decided to add a stipulation. “I promise with one exception. If you ever see me wearing one, it means I’m feeling ignored. You’d better remedy my need for your attention, pronto, or the cover-

up gets tossed, got it?” She kissed him when he smiled at her answer. “With great blessings, come great responsibilities.” He wriggled his eyebrows up and down. “I promise to perform my husbandly duties with the utmost diligence.” He pressed her palm to his lips for a kiss but noticed her skin. “You’re a prune.” “We’ve been in the water a while. I also snorkeled for a long time before you came barreling down the Plank.” “Come on. Let’s get you out of the water, send everyone home, and spend some alone time, together as a boring,

married couple.” She’d forgotten about their spectators and a horrified look crossed her face. He gave her a crooked grin. “Another very valid reason for waiting, as opposed to, ‘I don’t desire you’.” He gave her a smug, smiley kiss before they separated. “I love you.” “Of course you do!” He gave her a confident grin. “Duh! Gosh planted a seed—” “I get it.” She pretended to smack him, and he laughed. He swung her around to hang on to his back while he swam to the ladder and helped her up. oOo

Rhees climbed the ladder with Paul right behind her. It surprised them to find the deck void of the spectators they’d anticipated. “Thank you Claire!” Paul exclaimed, even though she wasn’t around to hear. They ordered delivery and had just finished sharing a romantic dinner in the gazebo, sitting across from each other. They usually sat together, side by side, but that night, staring at each other across the table like love-struck newlyweds, felt right. “Do you think that maybe . . .” Rhees looked away and felt nervous about proposing her suggestion. “You know you can ask me

anything.” She nodded, but it took a few more seconds. “Instead of paying for vacations, every month for the next twenty years, that we don’t plan to really take, do you think we could send Ginger some of that money, to pay her medical expenses, and make sure she’s comfortable?” Paul looked guilty, but nodded. “I’m already on it.” “I figured that.” She tilted her head and gazed lovingly at him with a small smile on her lips. “I just wanted to make sure you knew I was okay with it.” “I figured you would be. I did plan to mention it.” After another minute of

gazing, he said, “I . . . uh, while I was in Texas, waiting for the results, I spoke to the guy who sold us The Tow’d.” “You did?” “I rented a car and drove down to pay him a visit.” “After the runaround he’s given you all this time, did you finally get to talk to him?” “Um, yeah.” Paul didn’t look her in the eye. “He wasn’t happy to see me. Told me I waited too long to talk to him about it, and I was out of luck.” “Are you kidding?” She knew how many times Paul had tried to contact him. “But I adapted, and applied my knowledge and experience from the old

days, working for dad, and explained how disappointed I’ve been in his product. I gave him a few . . . pointers on providing better customer service for future reference. I’m pretty sure he now knows how important it is to have a happy, satisfied client.” Paul wrung his hands, favoring the knuckles on the right. She only, just then, noticed the bruises. He caught her staring at his hands and hid them under the table. “Anyway, he finally admitted that he gave my brand new boat to another customer who’d purchased The Tow’d, but brought it back because of all the problems. They gave it a tune-up, and a onceover, then shipped it down to me,

thinking I’d never notice. He swears he didn’t know it was as bad as it is. “Long story short, he’s sending a new boat down, should be here sometime next month.” Paul perked up. “He even told me not to worry about sending The Tow’d back. I thought we could scuttle it, and make a new dive site. We could call it, The Lying Ton of a Bitch.” “Is it possible,” she said, thinking about his battered hands, and not ready to celebrate just yet, “that someone might wind up in jail over this?” “Baby, no one will go to jail over scuttling a piece of shit boat.” “I’ll have to trust your judgment.”

She smirked. “But I have a feeling you won’t be able to step foot in Texas again, and I promise, I won’t be getting anywhere near that place without you.” She watched to see what he’d do with the ball she’d thrown in his court. “I’ll never bring up Keene or his facility again. If you don’t feel you need his help, then I’ll have to trust your judgment.” Paul almost made her cry. She held it in, but she knew her eyes glistened. “So, if you are pregnant,” he said, to change the subject for her. “Do you want to keep it?” He’d brought his hands above the table again, revealing his apprehension.

“I could never do that!” She sounded panicked, like she thought she was in for a fight. “Me neither,” he said, grabbing her hand across the table to try and convince her. “I’m glad.” “So will you throw up again?” “That was just sympathy vomit.” He chuckled, but then the embarrassment about the truth was too much, and he had to drop his head. “Even though I never saw myself getting married, I still had this vague picture of myself having kids.” “How, in your picture, did you figure that would happen?”

He raised a brow and was about to tease her about being too naïve to know the answer to that, until the truth hit again, and he frowned. “You know, you should probably prepare yourself.” His frown had turned into a full scowl. “Given my history, there’s always the possibility that some woman from my past could turn up, claiming that I’m the father of her child.” She thought about that for a minute, her expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t care,” she finally said. “But after getting to know Ronnie, and learning there are girls like her out there, I’d recommend a paternity test.” “I didn’t think you’d care, not for

one second.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “A paternity test would be a good idea, just in case. Although that, and the fact you often refuse to see me for the way I really am, makes me worry you wouldn’t really believe I could be guilty. You have to understand, God wasn’t the only one spreading his seeds around back then.” “I can’t believe you said that.” She giggled. “Kind of takes away from your whole romantic analogy speech.” “Aw, come on, are you really that surprised? That I’d say something like that, or that I didn’t even realize my story was romantic?” She smiled, knowingly, and he

couldn’t believe the love that radiated from such a simple expression. He still didn’t understand why, but she really did love him. He’d been thinking again, and he’d found a major flaw in his seed theory. He’d internalized the fact that Rhees had done fine without him. Remodeling his apartment, making it her home, getting the shop up and running again after he’d trashed it, the fact that she’d delivered the fatal shot to the hijacker— she’d saved his life when he’d been sure it was over. Thinking back to what she’d done under the deck not long ago—he’d tried, unsuccessfully, on multiple occasions, to

get her to try and hurt him during his self-defense lessons, but today, she’d had no reservations about groining him. If it weren’t for her being a lousy swimmer, she’d have gotten away. Yeah, he realized his revelation was defective, and he didn’t understand how he’d misread the signs. It had all seemed so clear before. He needed her, like the tank on his back when he dived, she was his air, but Rhees had grown up. She didn’t need him anymore. That sobering thought blew his theory about balancing each other out, and he couldn’t bring himself to believe the only other explanation. There was no way God had orchestrated everything on

his behalf—Paul didn’t deserve that much attention or care. He said a prayer in his heart, asking God for an explanation, why he’d been given such a strong glimmer of hope, short-lived as it was, and then he asked for forgiveness, because he hadn’t changed, and never would. He planned to keep Rhees, even though he knew he’d been wrong about her needing him. “Okay. So, if you’re not pregnant, this time,” he said before he teared up, “do you want to try again, or would you like to wait a while before starting a family? “I mean, I would like to wait a year or two. I’m a selfish man,” he winced,

trying to ignore the battle against his conscience, “and it would be nice to have you all to myself for a little while, but I’m good if you want kids right away. Do you know how many you want?” She stared at him for a second and he watched her slowly melt into a crying mess. Paul jumped up from his side of the table and pulled her up into his arms. “Hey! What did I say? Don’t cry. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. I—” He was sure she’d figured him out, his secret. He pulled back, trying to see her face, but she’d burrowed into his shoulder. “You just took me by surprise,” she sniffled. “Or I took myself by surprise,

or . . . I don’t know. You’re talking about our future, years—together.” “Of course, how could you think— you’re my bride.” He cradled her face between his hands. “You and I are forever.” He’d do whatever it took to make it so, even if it was wrong. “I think, deep down, I always thought this was temporary, that I was just going to ride the ride until it was over, until you get tired of me. But you’re planning our future kids—” He planted a kiss on her lips that took her breath away. “You were saying?” He’d turned on

the Kaa eyes. “Two,” she huffed out. “Two?” His lips hitched up on one side. He knew exactly what he was doing, the astard-ba. “I’d like two, to start with.” She’d lost all power to look away. She tried to recite her well-thought-out plan about children, hoping she made sense. “And then maybe we can just examine how it’s going after that.” “So you do want to get started right away.” He dialed up the power and her mind went blank. “Uh—I want to get—uh, started . . . right away,” she finally managed. She watched his tongue dart out and wet his

lips. “Maybe I should start birth control.” “But you just said you’d like to get started on a baby.” He drew his hands up and down her nearly bare back, at an agonizingly sensual pace, but she felt the stay of execution he’d granted her when he dropped the intensity of his panty melting smile a few notches. “Practice—I’d like to wait—if I’m not pregnant already.” She reached up on her toes to give him a kiss, knowing she could never pull off the mind-blowing exploitation he’d just subjected her to. “I want to practice making babies for a year or two, too—you know, since I’m so new to this.”

Paul closed his eyes. He’d put aside his guilt with God, tucked it away like he’d been doing for years, and concentrated on making Rhees stop crying. He hadn’t considered how it would affect him when he turned his honed powers of seduction on her. She’d stopped crying, his original goal, and that was good. She’d responded, pressing herself against him, baring her desire for him—damned good. She’d nearly stopped breathing, also good, and his pride swelled to mammoth proportions, but the experiment left him aching, because He ached, but more than anything, he couldn’t turn off the ache in

his heart. He had no control over how much she made him feel—not just in his groin. He had no control over the ache in his heart, the ache he’d only ever felt with her, because of her. The worst part of it all, was knowing how it wasn’t the first time she’d made him feel this way; that horrible, emotional, heart-wrenching feeling associated with the desire to relieve that need in his groin. He wasn’t used to feeling so much, anywhere but where He dictated. Paul felt like his friend had let him down, or more likely, Paul had let him down. Love did suck. Paul laughed at the thought.

“What’s wrong?” Rhees asked warily. Paul looked like he’d been caught; the proverbial cat that ate the canary look. “Nothing.” “Liar.” He sighed. “Okay. I was thinking about how ready I am to make love to you, the way I’ve fantasized about.” “I’m game.” “Okay, that’s great, but . . . I want it to be in a bed. We need to call Fahtima and order a new mattress.” “Paul?” “Yeah?”

“My family helped me redecorate. We painted, we moved stuff around—” “The Williams family helped you.” He looked like he’d just figured out a riddle. “Where’d all my stuff go? My surfboards, my kitesurfing kit, my parasailing—” “Everything’s in The Room That Had No Purpose, that became my closet for a few days, but is now Paul’s Sporting Goods Store—Room.” She giggled at her play on words. He headed toward the door of the room, acting nervous. He gave her one wary look before he opened the door and looked inside. He exhaled the most relieved breath she’d ever heard.

“I was so worried. I was okay with it, if you really felt the need to get rid of it, but it broke my heart, just a little, to think it could all be gone.” She attacked him with an unexpected hug, making him lose his balance. “About the mattress—” “Done.” “Done?” he asked, skeptically. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The Williams family had a party, for me. We painted, moved things around —we took your old mattress to Oceanside and convinced the new tenants to trade.” “Seriously?” “Yeah,” she giggled.

“Seriously?” It almost sounded like a sob. She threw her arms around his neck, worried she’d hurt his feelings. “I’m sorry if I overstepped—” She couldn’t finish because he’d swept her up and rooted his lips against hers. “Thank God for small miracles; and big ones too.” Paul’s breath hitched when he realized what he’d said. He wished it was true with all his heart— that God really had forgiven him—that he really had said it was okay to love Rhees. “I need to get you home, now. Home is where our mattress is!” “Okay,” she said, breathlessly.

Chapter 28 “A wpeak.Danar—” he froze, right at his “It’s okay,” she panted, kissing his Adam’s apple. “From now on, you can

call me anything you want.” She still hadn’t caught her breath, coming down from her own. “Aw Danarya,” he uttered worshipfully as he finished. He hovered over her, and they both reached to wipe the tears from each other’s eyes at the same time. They smiled because . . . just because. Paul slipped to his right, at Rhees’ side, careful not to detach just yet, after making the longest, sweetest love possible—the way he wished he had the first time. He gazed lovingly into his wife’s warm, honey brown eyes. “I’m crying, I’m fu—freaking crying here,” he whispered.

“Me too.” She looked more beautiful than ever in her endorphin-induced euphoria. He leaned in closer and kissed her, again. “I love you, so much. It’s better, loving who you’re with.” He’d just barely figured that out, sober, with her. “Emotional, it’s so much more when there are so many feelings.” “Yeah?” she asked. “I’ve only known it with the love.” He leaned in for another kiss. “You’re lucky, and I’m lucky to know you love me, and I hope you’ll love me forever, because I’ll always love you, forever.” She smiled, and it seemed to

brighten the whole room, otherwise lit with only a few candles. “You sure we shouldn’t have used a condom? If I wasn’t pregnant before, I probably am now.” “I didn’t want anything to come between us . . . except us.” He chuckled quietly. “I love your smile. I don’t want to ever live without that smile,” she said. He masked the sadness her words had caused him to feel, and again, brushed aside his guilt. “You won’t have to. Believe me?” She nodded. “I promise.” He kissed her again. Paul and Rhees both groaned with

disappointment when their connection was broken. “It’s okay. We’ll spend the rest of our lives doing that over and over again.” He stole another kiss but then beamed, wickedly. “But don’t worry. I don’t think we’re done throwing in a few rounds of angry sex now and then, you know, since that seems to be your thing.” “My thing?” She laughed. “I refuse to take all the blame.” “Oh yeah?” He stuck his tongue in her ear. “See?” She giggled. “You taunt me. You rile me all up, because you like it too.” “Angry sex, with you, is hawt!” He

kissed her, long and sweet before he rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up. He reached to his nightstand, grabbed two tissues, and handed them to her. He grabbed one more for himself, but froze. He stared at the blood on He, transfixed. Logically he knew why it was there, but in his heart, he believed it meant something more, something not logical at all, but twice now—he’d been given two affirmations in the last few hours. He trembled, trying to hold himself upright and not crumble to the floor. He thought that maybe he should so he could get on his knees. He finally accepted what had become impossible to deny. He

didn’t understand why, but God had answered his prayer. He’d sanctioned Paul’s love for Rhees by giving him his do-over. “Rhees, Baby?” His voice shook. “Do you believe in second chances?” “Of course. Sometimes. Why?” Rhees sat up too. She slipped her arms around his waist from behind and smothered his back with kisses. She didn’t see the reason for his question. “Oh, just thinking.” A warm, accepting smile broke on his face. He put one hand over hers as she held him, and wiped himself off with his other. “You’re not pregnant. You’re about to start your period.”

“Of course, you would know that before I do, Mr. Menstrual-CycleSavant.” He twisted his head around so he could look at her, the smile still on his face. He pounced playfully, pushing her back down on the mattress, pinning her under him. The smile faded as he watched her carefully, adoringly. He had never felt so content in his life, so at peace. “Paul?” She looked worried at his sudden calm. “Are you all right?” “You bled on me.” “Ew.” She looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He smiled again, a big, happy,

peaceful smile. “It’s okay, Dani Girl. It’s a very, very good thing.” He ran his tongue up her face from bottom to top, making her squeal. “It means it’s all right to keep you. I’m yours . . . and you’re mine! God said so.”

Bonus Scene: aul pulled the slip of paper from his pocket, the paper Dr. Quiñones had given him, with Dr. Keene’s number. He stared at the paper with three phone

numbers and wished there were more. He wanted to call Rhees but he’d smashed up the office. He specifically remembered throwing the phone out the window. He couldn’t email her either, after demolishing every computer in sight. “Damn cell phones.” His curse carried a double meaning, not just that the hijackers had smashed his, but at the moment, he hated the way they made it too easy to keep contact information without having to think about it. The false sense of safekeeping that having a phone had given him was the only reason he didn’t now have a whole file of email addresses and phone

P

numbers stored in his head. “Super-stupor brain.” He laughed at himself. Rhees’ gift for wording things was wearing off on him. “Juicy crisis!” He ran his hand through his hair and frowned at the memory of her. It had been less than three days, and he missed her so much, he ached. “Love sucks!” Falling in love had messed up his plan to live out the rest of his life, carefree and guilt-free. He’d bought the shop and made a pact with himself to, from that moment on, refuse to let family, relationships, anything, complicate his days . . . and nights, ever again. He sighed, picked up the phone in

his hotel room, and dialed. “Keene here.” “Hey, it’s Paul Weaver.” Paul paused. He hadn’t planned out this conversation very well, but he just now realized that. “I’m in Texas. I need to talk to you. I should have called sooner, but, well, but I’m leaving today. We talked once about your retreat, I need your help to convince Rhees to visit.” “Well, I’m booked today, but I’m headed out there tomorrow.” Keene’s voice sounded annoyingly calm, as usual, and Paul wondered if there was a required class in psychiatry school to teach it. “I have an idea,” Keene went on.

“Can you postpone your return one more day?” “Uh . . .” Paul didn’t want to. He’d been gone so long already, waiting around, driving himself insane about those blasted tests. He thought about Rhees, wondering where he was, worrying about him. He scrubbed his face, wishing he could rub the dilemma away along with the tension in his muscles. “Yeah,” his voice rasped. “One more day, in the scheme of things, won’t be any worse than they already are.” She’ll forgive me—she always does —damn it. She’ll give me hell, but I’ll get her to look me in the eye . . . he

didn’t finish the thought, hating what a conniving, self-serving manipulator he could be, even to the woman he loved. “Great.” Keene interrupted Paul’s internal tirade of self-abuse. “Why don’t you head out to the ranch, spend the night, and we’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll call Sheryl, she’s the resident director out there. I’ll let her know you’re coming, and she’ll give you the tour, and get you all set up. You can look around, sit in on a few group sessions if you’d like. You’ll have to sign some paperwork first, just like you’re really checking in —just to protect the other guests, but there’s no better way to see for yourself what we do there.”

Paul had to think about it for a second. He had the strange feeling he was being set up, but his concern about Rhees outweighed his distrust. “Okay. I have to run down to Galveston first. I found out today that the bastard isn’t even in Corpus Christi, but that’s actually better. Galveston is closer. He won’t know what hit him.” “You’ll have to check in by five,” Keene said, after a long, silent pause. Paul regretted his short burst of a temper rant to Keene of all people. He suspected Keene already thought he needed therapy more than Rhees did. He wondered why he kept coming back to the same doctor when Paul’s confidence

in the man’s ability to diagnose a person’s mental health was so off. oOo Paul woke the fourth morning away from the island, the shop, and Rhees, snuggled up to the pillow in his arms. He’d slept well, considering he’d been alone. He laughed at himself, thinking he should invest in one of those long, body pillows. Maybe he could get one specially printed with Rhees’ face on it. He hopped out of bed and headed toward the shower since the thought of Rhees had caught He’s attention. “Anyone would eventually become exhausted enough to sleep,” he mumbled

on his way to the bathroom. He didn’t vocalize the rest of the thought, but he mentally denied it had anything to do with being at Keene’s peaceful retreat. He’d arrived midafternoon, the day before. Sheryl had been very helpful, had answered all his questions, even applied first aid to his right hand. He’d told her he’d gone for a run and got knocked against a wall by a passing bicyclist. He’d eaten dinner in the dining room that compared to a five-star restaurant, scoped out the facility, looking for breaches in security that might compromise Rhees’ safety, if he could get her there. He’d even decided to sit in

on a couple of the sessions, after all, to observe. He didn’t say a word, but listening to the patients talk about their own experiences with childhood sexual abuse had been very educational. It had given him a lot to think about—and not just how it applied to Rhees. While some actions, and some of the emotional havoc of the aftermath seemed to fall into ranges that could be tracked statistically, each person’s experience was different, and each person’s coping skills toward his or her experience manifested differently. He learned there were no set rules of behavior, no defined standards of

dealing with the past. Everyone was different, and everyone had come to grips—or not come to grips, with their experiences in their own way. oOo “Why did Rhees have to goad you?” Keene asked, again in his too-calm tone. Paul rolled his eyes. They’d been over this already. “I didn’t want to traumatize her, all over again.” “Is she traumatized? What behavior have you noticed? Is she withdrawn? Have the nightmares returned? Is she experiencing panic attacks?” “No,” Paul exhaled. “But she should

be. I told you about the similarities between the dressing room and the bathroom . . .” Keene nodded, but didn’t look up from his tablet. “I still don’t understand why she had to goad you.” “Because she’s sick,” Paul said dryly. “I need your help to get her to accept that.” “I don’t treat patients against their will. It never helps until they’re ready, on their own.” “So tell me what to do.” “Nothing.” Paul stared at Keene, gritting his teeth. How did the man not understand?

“There’s nothing you can do unless, at some point, she decides she needs to talk to me again.” Keene seemed completely unfazed by Paul’s simmering irritation. “Look, you said yourself she wasn’t a statistic, and you’re right, none of my patients are. I was just trying to arm you, prepare you for the worst. I didn’t mean to come across like a fortune teller. “I don’t have a magic cure for my patients. They have to do the work themselves. All I do is walk them through their own thoughts, if they can’t do that themselves, or if their thoughts aren’t producing good conclusions, I try to teach them how to think it through

more effectively. I spent time with Rhees. Unlike most of the patients who end up here, she’s very good at selfreflection. If she says she’s thinking it through, working it out on her own, then she doesn’t need me.” “But—” Paul couldn’t believe it. “She’s sick—she wanted me to . . .” “Sounds to me like she wanted it any way you would have given it. If you’d have tried it in the hotel room, and not freaked out on her, it wouldn’t have gone down the way it did.” “That’s not it at all. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I was there. She used her knowledge about my nature against me, acting all trusting and

refusing to admit she knew what I was —am. She led me to believe she was perfect, but then, she turned on me, like she’d been counting on me to do it all along. She’s not perfect, she’s sick, do you hear me? She’s sick, and I love her too much, I can’t sit by and not do everything in my power to help her.” Keene finally registered an expression. He looked blank—the good doctor actually appeared to be dumbfounded. “Is perfection important to you?” he finally asked. “No. Not at all.” Paul squirmed in his seat. “I hate perfection. My parents always expected . . .”

Paul deadpanned. A few seconds later, he dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Next, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, and hid his face in his hands. He made a few growly noises and felt his mouth working overtime. “Oh, God,” he finally huffed out and sat back again, looking up at the ceiling once more. After another minute, he sat up straight with a loud intake of air, staring at Keene when he exhaled, again loudly. “I pulled the ole’ Weaver family expectation card on her. I swore I’d never do that, be like that, and yet . . . oh, God.” “Maybe you should stay a few more

days.” Paul looked at Keene, thinking the man had to be crazy. He had to get back to his beautiful bride. He had to apologize as soon as possible.

If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to post your honest, but kind, review on Amazon.com. Review Wet: Part Three Reviews mean the world to me. I value your feedback I need to know what I’m doing right, and even what I could stand to improve upon. Thank you so much, and thanks for reading. Until the next one… Sincerely,

S. Jackson Rivera

Other Books by S. Jackson Rivera Available on Amazon.com

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