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“Fine,” Monty replies.

We both peel back the covers, then climb in. The bed is big enough that it’s not even awkward. Well, other than the fact that we left the light on and are lying on our sides staring at each other.

“No. Don’t get up. I’ll get it,” he mutters before he rolls out, walks around the bed to my side, and flips off the bathroom light.

I hear him stumble around in the dark before the mattress dips again.

And even though I can’t see him, I know he’s there. Close enough to touch, facing me. Watching me. Or at least the shape of me under the same blankets that are covering him.

For some reason, it’s more intimate to be sharing a bed in the dark, like anything could happen and nobody would see it.

An odd thought, but one that fills my mind.

“I can feel you looking at me,” I say. “I’m not going to murder you in your sleep, Monty.”

“I’m not watching you,” he says, voice so close that I know he’s obviously still facing me. “I’m keeping an eye out for diamond thieves. Ones who might chop off your finger instead of just sliding the ring off or holding you at gunpoint to demand you hand it over.”

I huff out a laugh. “They would have to chop it off because I’m not taking it off and giving it to anyone,” I assure him. “Well, except to you on Monday.”

“If anyone holds you at gunpoint, you better take it off,” he says, voice gruff and grumpier than normal. “It’s just a ring. It’s replaceable. You’re not.”

I go quiet after that pronouncement that’s so heavy it covers me from head to toe like a weighted blanket.

Still, I have to break the silence.

“You just don’t want to have to deal with the bloody finger and hospital bills. I wouldn’t be able to type as fast either.”

“I’m sure you could manage, cupcake. Either way, that’s not something you need to worry about.”

Smiling because I’m enjoying myself, this comfortable banter like we’re at the office while in a warm, cozy bed with the ocean waves crashing around us.

“Goodnight, Monty,” I say softly. “This really is a beautiful place to get married. I’m sorry your engagement fell through.”

“Goodnight, Kendall,” he replies, making it clear that our chat is over and he doesn’t want to talk about his ex.

I sleep like the dead. So deep that I worry I may have snored.

When I peek open an eye, there’s sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Monty is still sleeping, still lying on his side.

He looks younger in his sleep. Lighter. Like maybe in his dreams, he’s not such an uptight hard ass.

Before he wakes up and catches me staring at him, I slip out of bed, take a shower, then go out to the deck to call Maggie on FaceTime.

“Hello, hello,” she answers looking sleep tousled.

“Hey, were you awake?”

“I’ve been up a few minutes. Mr. Jingles got me up by nibbling my fingers. I interpreted that he was hungry and would commence eating me if I didn’t get up and fill his bowl.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. He can get a little bit hangry in the morning,” I tell her.

“So how are things there?” she asks.

“Odd.”

“Odd how?”

“It’s a beautiful place and I’m supposed to be a big ol’ bitch but it’s hard when I’m in awe of literally everything. Anyway, show me my baby’s face and I’ll let you get back to your day off.”