birthday party,” said Ivy.
“Moulin Rouge?”
The girls hummed, trading looks.
“That’s not bad,” said Kelli. “I’ll write it down as an option. What else?”
“We could play up the whole beach, sea, and sand surroundings and have an ‘under the sea’ theme.” I’m not saying I was into this task, but my mind was running through the wardrobe ideas faster than I could spit out suggestions.
“The other groups will have the same idea,” Delilah replied. “We could do enchanted forest or— Oooh. Let’s do happily ever after.”
“What’s that?” asked Hazel.
“Fairy-tale theme. We’ll choose one and model everything in that style. We can do sand and sea after Ariel or castles and fairy lights for Cinderella.”
I squinted at her, searching for an ulterior reason for that particular suggestion. “Didn’t we say no third-grade birthday parties?” I reminded. “I choose Moulin Rouge.”
“I like Moulin Rouge too,” Kelli threw in.
“Let’s vote,” said Delilah. “Raise your hand for Moulin Rouge.”
Kelli’s and my hand shot up and that settled it.
“Raise them for happily ever after.”
Three against one.
“WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL? A fairy-tale party sounds like fun.”
I heaved a sigh. “They’ve gotten to you too.”
“Who has?”
“Disney.”
Zion laughed. “Am I a victim of a conspiracy?”
“Majorly. At this stage, deprogramming is a lost cause.”
The two of us stretched out on the beach, soaking in an hour of free time. My party planning group spent the entire morning breaking down tasks and assigning them. I was on top of music. Kelli had the decorations. Delilah was researching vendors. Ivy was staying on top of our budget. And Hazel was taking care of the menu and food.
We had to do everything on our own. The villa staff’s only job was to take the night off during our events.
After wrangling with Ivy and Delilah, a rest on the beach was exactly what the doctor ordered, and the others felt the same.
The boys started up another football game, running around tackling each other in their trunks. The girls either swam, gathered by the pool, or joined us in some sunbathing. Afterward, we’d all wash off our sandy butts and head to the next activity.
“What do you have against happily ever afters?”
I fixed out over the sea, skimming waves to the point they dropped over the horizon. “Nothing. It’s the fact that they don’t exist that gets to me.”
“They exist, but what those stories get wrong is that they’re handed to us. Happiness doesn’t fall into our lap. We have to fight for it, earn it, win it, sometimes even steal it.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I murmured. “But I will give fairy tales credit for one thing. Every story has a villain.”
“Okay,” he sang. Zion patted my shoulder getting to his feet. “Root beer is the cure for maudlin. I’ll run to the kitchen and get us some. Want anything else?”
“No, thanks.”
Zion took off. I sank onto my palms, closing my eyes to the sun.
I felt the sand shift. “You did this.”
“What?” My eyes snapped open, landing on a smooth, hard back and the long cylindrical bruise marring the perfect skin.
“You did this,” Nathan repeated. “How are you going to make it up to me?”
“What are you—? I didn’t do that.”
“Yes, you did.” He flipped over, suddenly so close that our noses kissed. “When I gifted you such a mind-blowing orgasm that you fell on top of me, and slammed me against the table leg.” Wincing, Nathan worked his shoulder. “Ah. My whole back is sore. You should massage it. Maybe throw in a blow job for my trouble.”
I pushed him back. “You have an endless line of girls waiting to suck your dick, Nathan. You never needed me for that.”
“No one has ever scratched that itch like you can. I know it’s the same for you or last night wouldn’t have happened.”
“It didn’t happen.”
“It can not happen anytime you like. Sex is what you and I are good at, Belle. Where we went wrong is trying to make it into something else.”
“Funny. I thought you and pesky blow jobs are where we went wrong.”
A thump threw me out of our argument.
“What are we talking about?”
I twisted, nearly smacking my head on Carter’s shoulder.
“Sex,” Nathan replied.
“My favorite topic.” Carter nudged me. “I should be mad that you gave up the game, but my mom called me last night weeping and wailing. News reached her faster than I anticipated.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before—”
“—you came up with the lie in the first place?”
I inclined my head. “Touché. All the same, looks like I won’t be the