Page 80 of I Wish He Would

“Get ready for the best three hours of your life,” Alyssa says before stepping forward and greeting the receptionist. “Hi, we have a nine o’clock for Alyssa Cartwright and Austin Bradford.”

She trails her finger down the list. “Ah, here you are. The couples massage.”

Alyssa’s eyes bulge. “Is there any way for us to get individual massages?”

The receptionist’s smile falls. “We’re all booked up, hun. I could get you in for an individual massage tomorrow?”

Alyssa purses her lips. “We have the wedding tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’re getting married here?” She places a hand over her heart. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I can just feel the romance between you two.” She leans in closer. “I have a sense for these things, and I can tell you’re the real deal.”

Alyssa blushes. “That’s not—”

I sling my arm over her shoulder. “Thank you so much”—I glance at the woman’s name tag—“Marjorie. We’ll stick with the couples massage. It’s only bad luck to see the bride on the day of the wedding, right?” Alyssa pinches my side, and I grin.

Marjorie’s bright smile returns. “Exactly.” She moves around the desk and motions for us to follow her.

As we walk through the hallway of rooms, I lean down and brush Alyssa’s hair back. I don’t miss her sharp inhale as my fingers graze her neck. “If you really don’t want me in the room, I can make an excuse and leave. But if it’s just about lying on the tables next to each other, I promise I won’t look.”

She smacks my arm. “You’re not helping.”

I drop my voice even lower. “So you want me to look?” Alyssa shoots me a look. “What?” I play innocent.

“This is your room. You’ll want to disrobe and lie down on the massage table. There’s a sheet at the foot of each one that you can cover yourselves with.” She gestures to the robes hanging on a wall. “You can put these on after, and your masseuses will escort you to the sauna and private pool area.” Marjorie turns, her wrinkled face beaming as she takes us in. “Oh, you two are the cutest. I wish you a lifetime of happiness.”

“Thank you.” I place my hand on the dip of Alyssa’s waist and pull her close. “We appreciate it.”

She leaves as we step into the room. As soon as the door closes, Alyssa turns on me. “Why did you do that?”

“Marjorie seemed so excited. I didn’t want to ruin her day by correcting her.”

Alyssa shakes her head, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. She points to the wall. “Turn.”

“What?”

“I’m not undressing in front of you.”

I run a hand over my mouth and do as she asks. “Right, sorry.” I wait until I hear her slide onto the table and the sheet rustle before asking, “You good?”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’m not looking.”

I quickly take off my swim trunks and shirt, placing them on the bench near the door. “Am I supposed to, uh, take my underwear off?”

Her quiet laughter floats through the room. “Please leave it on.”

“Gladly.” I lie face down on the table next to her and slide the sheet over my bottom half.

There’s a knock at the door. “Are you both ready?”

“Yes,” Alyssa responds.

I close my eyes, ready for the massage and the conversation to follow.

I stretch, feeling a thousand times better than I did this morning. “I’ve had the team’s massage therapists work on me before, but that was something else.”

“Make sure you drink lots of water. Your muscles are typically depleted after a massage, so you need to rehydrate,” Alyssa explains.

I glance over, wondering when she suddenly learned so much about the topic. “Do you get massages often?” She shakes her head. “Then how do you know so much about them?”