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Leaning over the panoramic infinity pool on our private balcony to watch the sunset as my husband fucks me from behind? Keep ‘em coming, baby. Both literally and figuratively.
When I first got on the private plane, I thought four days sounded like an eternity. Now, I’m not sure how we’ll manage to fit everything in.
“Are we snorkeling with the turtles tomorrow morning?”
“If you want.” Arsen is reclined in his beach chair, his hands folded over his tanned abs, eyes peacefully closed. “Or we can go shopping.”
“I do want to get Nina one of the little summer dresses and some sandals.” The thought of her in the outfit—the thought of her in general, actually—makes my heart squeeze. We’ve been so busythat, as bad as it sounds, I haven’t had time to miss her. But whenever we slow down for a second, I feel the familiar ache.
As if he can sense the mood shift in the air, Arsen squeezes my knee. “We can video chat Polina and Nina before dinner if you want.”
“Really?” I swipe at my eyes, hoping he doesn’t notice. “That would be amazing.”
He peeks over at me with one eye. “And I’ve told you, if you want to head out early, we can always?—”
“No.” I snag his hand from my knee and bring it to my mouth to kiss. “I want to be here with you. Just like this.”
“I can’t believe you let me miss our dinner reservation.”
“You looked so peaceful. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.” Arsen clutches my hand, walking me through a series of winding sidewalks and narrow roads. “And we didn’t miss our reservation. Ellis is our personal chef on the yacht. I’m paying him whether he cooks for us or not. And tonight, he’s not.”
“I wasted your money.”
“You wastedourmoney.” He winks at me. “And I have more than enough.”
I do feel bad about my afternoon nap turning into a five-hour-long coma, but I can’t fully bring myself to regret it. Mostly because, for the first time in months and months, I feel rested and refreshed.
Also because there’s something about being out with Arsen—no plan, no private chefs, no luxurious resort pools—that feels exciting. So much of the last year has been dictated by contracts and sickness and responsibilities.
Tonight, we’re just two people in love, walking the streets of St. Barts.
As if he can read my mind, Arsen slows down. He winds an arm around my lower back and pulls me close to him. “I can’t believe you’re not asking where I’m taking you.”
“Turns out, I don’t care.”
“Does that mean you trust me to manage your time responsibly?” He fake-gasps, my shrug confirmation enough for him. “What a momentous step in our relationship. I’m honored.”
“Something about napping all afternoon has put me at ease.”
“I haven’t seen you that relaxed in… ever,” he admits.
“After Mom died, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have a good night’s sleep again. But now—” I shake my head. “Sorry. I’m not trying to bring down the mood.”
Arsen squeezes me closer and kisses the top of my head. “It’s our honeymoon, our rules. We can talk about dead parents if we want to.”
It’s macabre, but I can’t help but smile. “Mom would’ve loved this place.”
“Mine did.”
I look up at him. “They came here?”
“For their honeymoon.” He gives me a sheepish smile. “It felt right to bring you here, too.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I bury my face against his chest, letting him lead me down the street without a single worry for where we’re going. Wherever it is, Arsen will be there.
That’s good enough for me.
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