Page 86 of Kiss the Bride
“If this is about starting a new relationship with honesty, you might as well know my secret ingredient.”
“You put cinnamon in my pancakes?”
“Yep. Just enough to give a hint of spice, but not enough for you to pick out what it was.”
“What is it you want?” I lean back after Mitch gives our order. The fruit salad was the only thing my stomach could contemplate, but the idea of fresh pancakes has it turning cartwheels—in a good way.
“Start again. Clean slate.”
“You know we can’t.”
“Look,” he shrugs and throws me his cheeky boy smile—the one I used to find endearing. Today, not so much. “We’ve got a lot of talking to do, and I’m willing to sit down and face all the questions. But for today, I want to enjoy what should have been our honeymoon. Have fun, laugh, and enjoy each other’s company. Tomorrow, if you want to talk, then I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s more than 24 hours.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve promised me one day, but I’m still working on us spending a lifetime together.”
For a guy who had little time to prepare, I have to hand it to Mitch. Over breakfast, he manages to relay enough gossip from the office to subtly remind me of the job I’d be walking away from. Job, and associated friends, money, and prestige. Do I care? Not as much as I should.
“Ready for some fun?” It seems natural for him to take my hand and lead me down to the beach. “How?” I turn in amazement at the glass-bottom kayaks. We’d booked them for our second day, but after I canceled, it seemed impossible to get another booking.
“I found the couple who had today’s booking and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
“How much?” I cringe, Hunter’s warnings about Mitch and gambling comes flooding back.
“Not money, but all will be revealed.”
I’ve never experienced anything like it. Being able to see the sand, coral beneath us, and small schools of bright blue fish. All the while, Mitch and I have to work together in the kayak with me in front, and Mitch matching my strokes.
“Wanna have a break?” He calls when we’re a couple of hundred meters away from shore.
Wordlessly, I pull up my paddles, and we float, allowing the current to move us past beaches. I can’t see Hunter or my friends. Tash probably has him trapped somewhere, giving him her best pitch. Somewhere between, “I’ve always had a crush on you,” to the more direct, “Let me help you forget Olivia and Mitch ever existed.”
Do I care? Hell yeah. But right now, there isn’t much I can do about it.
“Did you put on sunscreen?” I ask, knowing Mitchel’s fair skin always burns quicker than he expects.
“Forgot. Will do it later.”
“We should get back soon, then.”
“Whatever you want. How about a walk before lunch.”
I have to hand it to Mitch; he’s trying incredibly hard to prove what kind of husband he could be. Still, I can’t help but sneak in the occasional text update to Hunter. Half to put his mind at ease, and half because I don’t want him doing anything stupid with Tash. Okay, and I want to vent my amusement.
Olivia: Mitch mistook a plastic bag for a stingray and squealed like a little girl.
Hunter: Worse than when you discovered that lime green bikini was see-through when wet?
“What?” Mitch’s face darkens when I smile at the memory. I was fifteen, and Hunter’s family had thrown a massive Christmas pool party. My brand-new bikini had become the focal point the moment I dived into the pool. Hunter had pulled me out, sheltering my body with his until grabbing one of his mother’s swimsuits from the changing shed.
“I’m glad you weren’t attacked by the plastic bag.”
“Oh, that. Let’s not talk about it again.” Mitch has never been one to laugh at himself. Unlike me. For the next year, Hunter had been obsessed with giving me all things lime. Until I opened my Christmas gift; a Tiger Lily lime green bikini, padded, lined, and definitely not see-through when wet. He’d been so good at covering up my embarrassment, that neither our family nor friends understood our private joke.
“Mitch, relax. The shape was deceptive. Think about it a different way, you thought you were saving me from a deadly stingray.”
“Drop it,” he snaps, handing back the kayaks in disgust. Whatever joy I’d found is suddenly overshadowed by his inability to find the lighter side of anything. Or to laugh at himself.
