Page 57 of Shark Bait

“Good. Now that that’s sorted, you think you can spend the rest of our morning the way you normally do?”

“Which is?”

“In silence.”

“One more question.”

“Shoot.”

“I need a dress,” I say

Alessio smiles. “That’s new.”

I roll my eyes. “A wedding dress for Troy.”

Alessio sighs. “I’m ten steps ahead of you.”

“Sandals too.”

“Boots,” he corrects.

“Boots?”

He nods. “Boots.”

TWENTY

NINE CARATS

TROY

I wake up sweaty and wipe my face, neck, and between my breasts with a sheet before stretching out and reaching for Shark on the other side of the bed. I don’t find him, and as soon as I open my eyes, I know why he’s out and about.

The clock reads noon.

Holy crap, I slept for thirteen hours. Thirteen hours.

I’ve always loved sleeping, and if I didn’t get my eight hours of sleep a night, I was grumpy all day. But thirteen is too long even by my standards. The last time I slept for thirteen hours straight was the night of Levi’s birthday party when I gobbled seven Jell-O shots and two hash brownies.

Now, the thought of partying and eating brownies makes me nauseated, but back then, it was fun.

I rub my eyes, then roll onto my side before struggling to sit up and swing my legs over the bed. Gawd, I feel heavy. No longer a hippopotamus, but a full-sized whale today. It’s the noon heat, and waking up under covers in the middle of the day means I sweated. The swelling in my feet is gone, but I can tell my ankles are slightly swollen now. I’m glad my feet aren’t swollen too much, because I’d like to walk down the beach and maybe visit some local shops for clothing.

But that’ll have to wait till sundown, when temperatures cool off.

In the bathroom, I do my business, then find a packaged toothbrush. I open the packaging, apply toothpaste, and look up into the mirror as I brush my teeth.

There’s something on my finger.

I lean in, but my big belly prevents me from going too far.

Is that a rock on my finger? Quickly, I finish brushing my teeth and then wash my face, making sure my eyes are well-washed so they’re not deceiving me. I look down at my ring finger, where I confirm that, indeed, there’s a ring on it. And what a ring.

It’s a massive tear-drop-shaped diamond, the biggest I’ve ever seen, mounted on a thin golden band that makes the rock appear even bigger. What’s it doing on my finger?

I stretch out my hand before me. It’s pretty, to be sure, but it’s on my ring finger. Or maybe in Europe, it goes on a different finger? Whichever finger it is, I’m certain European women don’t just wake up with rings on. Right?

Is Shark asking me to marry him? Not only is this an odd way of proposing, it’s also too fast. I mean, we had sex and all, and I like him, but marriage is a big commitment. And what about my baby? I like Shark, but matrimony needs a serious conversation and thought.

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