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I need to relax or it’ll quickly give away our lie.

Taking a breath, I gulp down the mimosa in one swallow.

“Nice! Now this one,” Kendall says when she offers me her glass.

“What? No. One is plenty. “

“One is not nearly enough, Monty. You’re still sitting on the edge of your seat, gripping the armrest like it’s a lifeline.”

I didn’t realize I was doing either of those things until she pointed them out. Why am I so nervous about Kendall meeting my mom?

Because if she knew the truth, if she found out Kendall was my assistant, she would disown me.

But she won’t find out, so it’ll be fine.

Releasing the armrest, I sit back all the way, then accept the glass, drinking it just as fast as the first.

Since I’m not a big drinker, only having a glass of wine when I’m dining with my mother, the alcohol hits me fast.

Kendall takes both flutes and hands them to the flight attendant on her way past. “Could you please keep these coming? My fiancé is a little nervous about me meeting his mother for the first time.” She pats my arm sympathetically while also showing off her diamond.

I like being referred to as hers a little too much.

“Oh, well, congratulations,” the flight attendant says. “I’ll be right back with two more.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?” I remark as soon as she walks away.

“Yes, yes, I am. Is it working?” Kendall asks with a grin.

“I always feel a little drunk around you.”

I immediately wish I could take the words back when Kendall’s eyes widen. She pats my arm again as she smiles at me. “Oh good, you’re going to be a fun drunk. I can already tell.”

“Study the list,” I instruct her, nodding to the list in her lap. “You’re going to need it.”

I have a feeling that there’s nothing Kendall could do to make my mom hate her. Nothing except tell her the truth about us.

How could anyone hate a ray of sunshine like Kendall?

10

Kendall

“It’s hot as balls out here,” I say as soon as we walk out of the airport and into the tropical midday heat and humidity.

Monty chuckles, which startles me. “You should definitely say that in front of my mother.” He starts walking off to the right before I grab his arm to steer him to the left.

“This way to the shuttle,” I tell him as I urge him and our luggage toward the white van waiting at the curb with the resort logo on the side.

“I didn’t order a van. Can’t we rent a convertible or something more fun?” he asks.

“The van is just taking us to the resort and dropping us off,” I remind him.

We say hello, I hand our suitcases to the man standing by the open trunk, and then I lead the way into the blessedly air-conditioned interior.

Once we take a seat in one of the rows, Monty leans over and whispers in my ear, “We have to go back. I forgot my luggage.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s right back there.” I point to the open trunk.