Page 68 of One Week in Paradise
‘Itwasa good morning,’ she says. She cups my jaw and tries to pull my face back in, but I grab her wrists and hold her in place.
‘We’ve got an hour before we need to leave,’ I tell her.
Realisation dawns on her, and the irritation in her eyes melts away, leaving space for excitement to flood in. She rolls away from me and jumps out of bed.
‘Any more guesses?’ she asks as she grabs one of my T-shirts from the floor and yanks it over her head.
I shake my head. My birthday is in two days, and she’s been planning this trip for the last few months. She’s been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about it all, and the only clue she’s given me is ‘bring sun cream’ which doesn’t exactly narrow down our options.
She grins, far too pleased with herself, and I swear to God I fall in love with her all over again.
‘Good.’ She bounces back to the bed. The hem of my T-shirt barely covers her ass, and I’m tempted to just say fuck it all and pull her back into bed with me. But she’s been working hard planning this trip, and I don’t want to see her hard work go to waste.
I settle for one last chaste kiss, laced with promises of what’s to come, and then let her go. She disappears into the bathroom, and I reluctantly peel myself out of bed.
I won’t lie. I’m excited about the trip, but the prospect of getting on a plane again doesn’t fill me with joy. But I’ll do it for her. Anything to see that smile on her face.
We get dressed and are ready to leave the apartment in record time. If Bailey senses my trepidation about boardinga plane again, she doesn’t mention it. She’s practically buzzing with anticipation and excitement as we head downstairs and enter the black taxi waiting for us outside.
‘Where to?’ the driver asks once we’re settled inside.
I look over at Bailey, and she’s almost bouncing she looks so excited. I expect her to direct the driver to Heathrow or Gatwick Airport, but instead, she says, ‘Southampton Port, please.’
Southampton Port?
‘Mhm,’ she hums, leaning into me as the taxi pulls off. ‘Southampton Port.’
My brain is a second or two too slow, but it eventually catches up as I connect the dots. ‘We’re going on a cruise?’
‘We’re going on a cruise!’ she echoes, eyes dancing with delight as she takes in my reaction. ‘To the Cayman Islands.’
‘Acruise?’
‘Yes, a cruise. Keep up, babe.’
I can’t believe it. I’ve been psyching myself up to get on a plane for her. Meanwhile, she’s been planning a goddamncruisefor me.
‘I know you don’t like planes,’ she says softly. She puts her hand on my knee and gives me a squeeze. ‘And I wanted you to enjoy this trip right from the beginning.’
‘Bailey. Thank you.’
‘You don’t have to thank me.’ She looks up at me through her lashes. ‘I wanted to do this for you. I love you, Cash.’
The first time she told me she loved me, about three months after we returned from Jamaica, it came as a shock. I don’t think either of us had been expecting it when the words came out off-handedly after dinner one night. She’s repeated the phrase countless times since then, but I’ll never tire of hearing it.
Each time she says it, her eyes light up, and the corners of her lips twitch upwards into a content smile. She means it. She really does.
Bailey Clarke lovesme.
I capture her lips with mine. ‘I loveyou, Bailey.’
She kisses me back eagerly, greedily giving just as much as she takes.
‘How long is the cruise for?’ I ask when we finally pull apart.
‘Fourteen days.’ She slots perfectly into my side, head resting on my shoulder.
‘Seven days in Jamaica got us here,’ I say. ‘Where do you think we’ll be after fourteen days?’
She sighs, sounding happy and content. ‘I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.’
