My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,101

. . . right by the hot cooktop. He hadn’t lasted thirty minutes before declaring that he could not work in such hostile conditions, and we’d openly laughed as we shuffled him off to the back where he could create in relative comfort.

There’s no answer in the suite. No outrageous stories from Abigail or bawdry stories from Janey. It’s quiet.

I suppose they’re still cleaning up downstairs. I consider going to help but reject the idea because I don’t think it would serve Abigail to have Meredith see me playing the role of helper boy. I’m worried about the fallout of Meredith’s veiled threats for Abigail when we get home.

Home.

The word has never seemed so loaded before. I’ve always considered Positano my true home, the place I grew up. But wherever I lay my head is home too—the sense of comfort and belonging one I cultivate everywhere I go on my adventures.

And spending time with Abigail . . . it’s home too.

But could Aruba be home? In Esmar’s kitchen or one of my own, here on the island?

It’s a big decision. One I can’t make tonight with my head fuzzy with exhaustion.

I decide a shower is in order as a way to refresh my body and mind, not to mention wash off the smells of sweat and food, before Abigail returns. The hot water is heaven, relaxing muscles I didn’t even know were tense.

By the time I get out, I feel like scotta pasta, overcooked and mushy. Nude, I lay out on the bed with the lamp on to wait for Abigail. I can’t wait to hear about her day.

Sometime in the early morning hours, I startle awake. I don’t know what I heard or why my eyes pop open, and I settle slightly. Then I remember . . . I’m waiting for Abigail.

In the corner of my vision, I see a dark shape in the bed with me. My heart leaps automatically, and then I smile at my own ridiculousness. It’s her.

My bleary eyes focus, tracing the outline of her black clothes against the white of the bed sheets in the dim light. Poor thing must’ve fallen into bed straight from finishing for the night.

I get up, carefully pulling her sensible flats off her cute little feet, noting how red her toes look. I consider removing her clothes so she is more comfortable, but don’t want to risk waking her if she’s as exhausted as I am.

At least we have tomorrow morning to enjoy the island before our flights out.

I pick up my phone, pulling up the resort’s website to see if there might be a particular way to make the most of our last morning in Aruba.

Reservation made, I set my alarm so we don’t sleep too late. We need rest, obviously. But we need something else even more.

I turn the lamp off and curl up behind Abigail, making her the little spoon to my big, and cover us over with a blanket.

Sleep overtakes me quickly once again, more restful with Abigail in my arms.

“Where are you taking me?” Abigail asks as I lead her down the hallway. She was a little suspicious when I asked her to put on a blindfold in the elevator, accusing me of having a few Fifty Shades fantasies, but she’s been a good sport so far. Especially considering the blindfold is less silken luxury and more linen napkin from the suite.

I’m working with what I’ve got here.

“Don’t worry, just a few more seconds,” I assure her, guiding her around the final curve.

There are two women there to meet us, but I raise a finger to my lips to tell them to be quiet and they smile as they nod. One of them holds open the door and silently mimes what they want me and Abigail to do.

They close the door behind them to give us a few moments of privacy, and I stand behind Abigail with my hands on her shoulders. I can feel the tension there, from the week’s stress I’m sure, but is there something else too? Maybe she’s sad to see this fake honeymoon end the way I am?

“Abigail, you give so much to so many, making nature’s beauty into something even more magical. So I want to give something to you.” A shiver works its way down her spine at my heated words delivered directly into the delicate shell of her ear. “You deserve the sun and moon and stars. And more. Unfortunately, though I wish I could, I