Page 28 of Stranded with the Kraken
EPILOGUE
ARIELLE
Eleven Months Later
A private island villa, Fiji
Ikick off the bedsheet that’s tangled around my legs and sit up. The light breeze flowing through the open window cools my overheated body, and I run my fingers through my hair to comb it back from my face.
I can’t believe I fell asleep.
A blush works its way up from my neck to my cheeks at the memory of what Jasper did to me in this very bed this afternoon. We’d returned from our little day trip—one that included diving with sharks—to the villa, and barely made it to our bedroom before he ripped my swimsuit off me and fucked me against the wall, then carried me over to the bed for round two. The sex was hot, the urgency between us incredible.
But now my husband is nowhere to be seen.
I grin and glance down at the wedding band that has joined my engagement ring. I still can’t quite believe I’m now Mrs. Kraken, as Jasper’s friends jokingly call me, or that Jasper managed to convince me that spending our three-week honeymoon on a private island was a perfectly normal idea.
I’d think it’s all a dream, but there’s the slight sting of sunburn on my shoulders, the pinch in my foot where I grazed a sharp rock when snorkeling yesterday, and I desperately need to pee, so I know it’s all real. This is my life now, and I’m loving it. The only thing missing is my husband, and I intend to track him down in a minute. But first, I have something very important to do.
Padding over to the luxurious bathroom with a shower big enough for four people, I root through my toiletries bag for something I hid there, knowing that Jasper wouldn’t look inside because he always sneezes when confronted with all my beauty products at once. I take the slim white package from the bag and tear away the plastic with trembling fingers.
Then I sit on the toilet and carefully pee on the end of the pregnancy test.
The next two minutes are the longest of my life. Okay, so I’m exaggerating, because I’ve done this before, last month, and the month before that. Jasper and I have been trying for a baby for more than six months, and though I’m aware that it often takes a lot longer than this, my heart thumps as I wait, hope mixing with worry. My period is several days late, which could be due to our travels—or I could be pregnant.
I want Jasper’s baby. More than one, if possible, but we have to start somewhere. And I know Jasper is just as eager—he tells me so often, though I’ve never felt pressured by him. He told me in advance that kraken often take longer to conceive, which has something to do with their size and power, apparently. It makes sense—if they reproduced too quickly, the seas of this Earth would soon become chock-full of giant mythological creatures.
Even knowing this, it hurt every time the pregnancy test showed me a negative result or I got my period. I try not to make a big deal out of it. I’ve loved spending this year with Jasper, and we’ll celebrate another Christmas soon, as well as our anniversary.
The timer on my phone beeps, and I pick up the test, my stomach swooping in anticipation.
And there they are, two pink lines, clear as day.
I blink, then blink again, clutching the plastic stick so hard my fingertips turn white. We’re going to have a baby. We’re going to becomeparents.
I let out a sound that’s half laugh, half sob, then take a quick photo of the test and dump it in the trash. Now I really need to find Jasper to tell him the news. When I first went off the pill, I’d planned on doing some sort of romantic reveal, but now I just want to throw myself in his arms and share this wonderful thing with him.
But when I race out into the living room, Jasper isn’t there either. I frown, listening, but I can’t hear his footsteps anywhere. Maybe he went for a swim—but I don’t think he’d go without me, especially since he spent all morning in the ocean, making sure I wasn’t mauled by the hammerhead shark that decided to swim around us in circles.
Then I notice the folded note on the kitchen counter. It’s set so I would have seen it immediately upon exiting the bedroom if I wasn’t so giddy from my newfound knowledge. It has my name written on it in Jasper’s bold handwriting, so I pick it up and open it.
Arielle,
Come down to the pier.
Love, Jasper
It’s short and to the point, and my curiosity is immediately piqued. If Jasper wanted me to know what this is about, he’d say it, so he must have a surprise ready for me. My blood thrums through my veins as I search for my swimsuit—another set, because the one I wore earlier today is irreparably damaged—and pad over to the porch, from which a wooden pathway leads down to the water.
The white sand is soft and warm. My feet sink into it. It’s beautiful, but it getseverywhere, so Jasper and I have been spending most of our days on the private pier, where I get to lie in the shade of a gorgeous cabana and read while Jasper gets to swim all day long, bringing back fish for dinner—and little treasures for me. So far, I’ve received two sparkly seashells the size of my palm, four gorgeous pearls that Jasper has promised to have made into a necklace for me, and a gold coin that must have fallen from some long-lost ship traveling through these waters. As much as he claims that he’s not really a treasure hunter like his family, he’s very good at it.
I step onto the pier and squint at the cabana, but Jasper is nowhere to be seen. My steps scuff on the sun-bleached wooden boards as I walk toward the cabana. The wind blows the white curtains, sending them snapping, and I realize for the first time that the weather is changing, the still water of the bay much more agitated than before. I check the sky for clouds because I sure as hell won’t go swimming in a lightning storm, but there’s nothing to worry me yet. The setting sun sits golden above the horizon, and I squint, casting my gaze around to find my husband.
Finally, I reach the cabana. On the low table, next to the paperback romance novel I left there this morning, lies another note, weighed down with a beautiful nautilus shell.
Heart thudding faster, I snatch up the note and open it, scanning the message quickly.
Run, sweetheart.
