Page 45 of Perfectly Wedded

“Oh, Vale,” she says. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I wanted to change plans. I’m perfectly fine with whatever you’ve planned.” She plays with her new ring while avoiding my gaze.

Something has shifted between us, and I can’t put my finger on what. Maybe it’s the fact that we’re finally alone. Away from the team. Away from the pressure and the press. With all the time in the world to get to know the person we married.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. We step inside, the awkwardness hanging between us as I catch her reflection in the polished doors.

“I hope I won’t disappoint you, but we’re picking up dinner from the chef downstairs and then heading to a surprise location.”

“Where?”

“Show me your sister’s list and I’ll tell you,” I say with a smirk.

“Vale,” she says. “That’s not fair.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to wait to find out.”

We pick up the food and walk out of our hotel as I check my notes for tonight’s date. According to the Facebook posts I read in the Honeymoon to Cancun group, the people who told me about this spot claimed it was off the beaten track and incredibly romantic, known by the locals as “Lover’s Hideaway.”

As we head onto an overgrown trail, we suddenly escape the crowds and cars and are thrust into a thick grove of trees. I’m hoping that trusting a stranger in a Facebook group for a romantic date spot wasn’t a stupid idea, or Sloan may not ever trust me again. Suddenly, the lush forest opens up as we reach the summit, and we both stop in our tracks, stunned by the breathtaking view. The sky unfurls before us, a gaping stretch of orange and pinks, like a tropical drink spilled across the horizon. Below us, the waves crash on the shore, the endless ocean rippling like a blue rug.

This is so much more romantic than I even imagined.

I grab the blanket from my backpack and spread it on the ground. “I hope the view makes up for the work it took to get here. Sorry it’s not a fancy restaurant.”

“Vale. Remember the jewelry store? I don’t do fancy.” She looks over at me, and I can see her nervousness ebbing away. “This is so much better. So much moreme.”

I smile, and as she sits, I do a silent fist pump behind her back. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for us.”

I open the lid on her spicy mango shrimp and rice dish, thesmell of coconut, spicy pepper sauce and fragrant cilantro blending together.

Her face lights up. “How’d you know?”

“I’d like to take full credit, but it was a panicked text to your sister that saved me.”

She laughs.

I open my carryout box. “And since your sister couldn’t decide between that dish and the grilled salmon with pasta, I got both.”

Her eyes widen. “You got two meals?”

“I’ll eat whatever you don’t want. Consider me your personal cabana boy.”

She laughs, then picks up her fork. “When my sister and I order amazing dishes, we just eat off each other’s plates. Anthony was always strict about the no-sharing rule.”

I slide my dish between us. “Your food is my food.”

One point—me. Zero points—Anthony.

With a smile, she slides her dish my way, and we fall into a rhythm of picking at each other’s entrees. At one point, I even pluck a shrimp with my fork and offer to feed it to her. “For the full cabana boy experience.”

She takes it with a laugh, all the worry gone from before. We just needed to get out of the hotel to a place where we could relax, without any pressure about what happens later.

“I’m curious,” she says, putting down her fork andstudying me as I finish the pasta. “How did your family react to the news when you first told them?”

“You mean harassing me about the fact they weren’t invited to my wedding?” I say.

“That well, huh?” she asks with a pained expression.

“My sister was miffed, but Mom wasn’t mad. A little disappointed, maybe, but this whole wedding renewal ceremony will make up for it.”

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