Page 67 of How to Honeymoon Alone

“I don’t think I’m going to tell you that.”

“Keeping secrets, Meyer? From your new wife?”

He chuckles. “Only ones she’s not ready to hear, yeah.”

Something flips over in my stomach. Like a school of fish being hunted by a shark. “I can handle a full class of unruly five-year-olds,” I say. “Think I can’t handle this?”

He reaches for his glass of wine. “Oh, I think you can. I’m just not ready to play that card, yet.”

“Play that card?” I ask. Something’s tightening in my chest. Anticipation. Expectation. “You’re not the only one with aces up your sleeve.”

I don’t even know what we’re talking about. And still, I do, and my body certainly does. My heart is beating fast again.

His eyes briefly drop to my dress. It’s a quick glance, there and gone again. “Oh, you definitely have some, too,” he says.

“Flustered, Mr. Meyer?”

“Frustrated, Ms. Richards?”

“Never.”

“Not even after three whole months,” he says.

My mouth opens. Closes again. But then, I just go for it. “I have an excellent vibrator.”

Phillip’s expression goes blank, without a hint of emotion on it. “Ah,” he says.

And then, nothing else.

“Did I blow your mind?”

“Yes,” he says. “Give me a moment.”

I’m my vacation self, and she says things like this to men she’s just become friends with. She orders a fancy drink from the menu without agonizing over the price. She might even kiss this handsome stranger one more time.

He raises an eyebrow. “At least a vibrator is guaranteed to last longer than five minutes.”

“Yes,” I say as heat consumes my cheeks. Ihadadmitted to that little tidbit about my sex life with Caleb. “If I’ve charged the batteries.”

“Mmm. Hate it when they run out halfway through,” he says, focusing on his sleeves. He’s rolling them up his forearms with methodical precision.

“Yes.”

“You know, a man with actual stamina would solve both problems.”

“Yes, but then there are all the other things involved,” I say. “A vibrator won’t overstay its welcome or use too much tongue.”

He chuckles. “I think it’s a given you’ll get no tongue at all with a vibrator.”

“Yes,” I say. Then, I shake my head. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

“I never suspected I’d say it,” he retorts.

“What a historic moment,” I agree. “We should toast to it.”

He holds up his glass, and I touch it with my own.

“So,” he says like we’re not having the most outlandish conversation of my life, “was the too much tongue comment a hint?”

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