Page 84 of How Good It Was (Excess All Areas 3)

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“Oh my God. Real, hot sunshine,” Willow said, tilting her head to the sun. “I swear I can feel my skin slurping it in.”

She stood leaning against the balcony of their hotel room at the Hospes Maricel hotel overlooking the Mediterranean, her wrap-around skirt fluttering gently in the breeze, as did her hair in its messy bun. The vibrant turquoise hue of the water, as sparkling as it was, paled in comparison next to her.

When the band had talked to him that morning, the only thing he could think of was space.

Sunshine.

Fresh air.

Room to breathe.

He’d gotten paid. Enough to cover the bills and repayments, with a little extra. And his first thought was a trip for just the two of them. Break free of the heaviness and panic he’d felt that morning.

Luke wasn’t sure why making her happy felt so damn good, but it did. Her face had lit up as she packed, then repacked, then packed again. And she’d made him laugh when she’d mocked his own packing. Although two pairs of board shorts, a couple of pairs of jeans, and a handful of clean T-shirts had seemed perfectly adequate to him, she’d insisted on perusing his wardrobe five minutes before they left, pulling out a pair of black denim shorts he’d forgotten about and a couple of shirts he rarely wore. Whatever—it had made her happy to photograph their shit in the case.

It still baffled him that people were interested in video footage of their feet walking the lino’d floors of Manchester Airport, but she’d promised him she wouldn’t post anything about their trip until they were home.

And that was enough. That he got to share it with her, first, before she shared it with the rest of the world. It was a compromise he was learning to live with.

He walked over the balcony and placed his hands just beneath the bump of her stomach. He’d read somewhere it felt good when a guy took the weight of the bump, and even though Willow’s was still small, he hoped it felt as good to her as it did to him.

Holding his son and holding her in his arms was better than the sunshine.

He slid his nose against the side of her neck, trying not to relive the words he’d overheard on her call. When he’d been inspired to book the trip, he’d been excited to tell her all about it. He’d known straight away she was on a chatting with Riley. But what he’d heard had shook him.

It’s costing me a lot to be here. And I’m having a baby. When I get back, I’m going to have to buy my own house because the legal stuff with Dad may not be resolved.

When she got back. Because, in her mind, it was still a done deal. The idea he was up against a ticking clock scared him.

“It’s stunning,” she said, leaning her head back against his shoulder. “The way the hotel appears to have been created out of the cliff straight into the water.” The waves rushed up against the rocks, tossing the scent of saline in the air.

“Yeah.” He kissed her, unable to resist the long slope of her neck. They’d come here for three days to get away from stress, not bring it with him. He buried his thoughts about her leaving and focused on making the most of their time together. “Want to get changed and go sit out by the pool?”

Or stay in and check out whether the large bed clad in soft white bedding was as comfortable as it looked? He’d seen the way she’d run her fingertips over the crisp white sheets.

“Can we go for a walk? I’ve never visited Mallorca before.”

Right. Totally different kind of exercise. “How about we walk into Cala Major and grab a snack, then head back here for dinner? It’s about two kilometres, but we can always get a cab back, and it’s a coastal path most of the way.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Luke threw her camera equipment over his shoulder and led her from the room.

“I need a wide-brimmed hat,” Willow said as she paused to take photographs of the harbour littered with small boats and yachts. “I didn’t think to bring any of my own.”

“You see one as we’re walking, and we’ll grab one.” He watched as she worked. How she thought about the framing and considered shadow and light. “You’re a really good photographer.”

Her smile hit him right in his solar plexus.

“Thanks.”

When she’d finished, he took the camera from her and tossed the strap over his own shoulder. “Have you ever thought about pursuing photography outside of this? Like, setting up a studio?”

He held her firmly as they clambered over some uneven rocks. “I think there’s a bit more to being a good photographer than taking good photos.”

Luke laughed. “I can’t think of a single thing more important about being a photographer than being able to take good photos.”

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