Chapter 11
11
Millie
Kane leaves to hang out with friends, and Rob excuses himself to do who knows what. Thank the fucking gods, too, because I don’t know what I’d do if I had to endure one more minute in that awful man’s presence.
Thirty seconds with him nearly caused an aneurysm. How am I supposed to last two weeks?
Free vacation to Hawaii.
Free vacation to Hawaii.
Free vacation to Hawaii .
I can do hard things.
Ezra puts the car in reverse. “Let’s go to the beach.”
My stomach sinks at the prospect. “Uh…”
“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who hates getting her hair wet or a little sand between her cheeks.”
Despite the dread that’s churning inside me now, I chuckle at the comment. I’m familiar with the type of girl he’s talking about. High-maintenance girlies are so not my type. If you can’t let your hair down—and get it wet—what kind of fun are you even having?
“No. I grew up in Southern California, remember? It’s not that. I, uh…” I breathe deeply, ignoring the pain in my chest. “I actually didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
“What?” He jerks his head in my direction. “How could you come to Hawaii and not pack a bathing suit?”
“Um…” Because my old suits resemble dental floss now. When I tried them on, I looked like a tightly wrapped burrito ready to burst. Not that I’d tell him that. I planned to buy one or two before the trip, but I dreaded standing under horrible fluorescent lighting in a dressing room and kept putting it off until… well, I never got around to it, clearly.
Ezra passes the street that would take us to Val’s without even a glance that way.
“Where are we going?”
His lips quirk, though he doesn’t look away from the road. “To a nude beach.”
All the air is sucked from my lungs. Hell, the entire car, I think. “Wh-what?”
“You said you don’t have a bathing suit.” With a grin, he squeezes above my knee quickly before planting his hand on the steering wheel again. “Relax. We’re going to get a suit for you.”
I absolutely do not want to go shopping with this man and his book-boyfriend body, but I have no interest in explaining my reasons. Plus, he’s right. What was I thinking, showing up in Hawaii without a bathing suit?
Inside the store, we go our separate ways—me to the swimsuit section and him to the surfboards. It’s a small shop with a minimal selection of boards, so before I can even make it to the dressing room, Ezra is following me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, hanging suits in a variety of sizes and styles on a rack.
“Sitting.” He plops his large frame onto a small stool and laces his fingers .
Eyes narrowed, I close the curtain with more gusto than necessary. Then I force myself to face the mirror.
Fuck. I don’t want to be here. There was a section of full-body wetsuits out there. Maybe I could get away with wearing one of those. But the thought of stuffing my body like a sausage into neoprene creates a tightness in my chest.
I can do hard things .
Repeating that mantra, I strip down to my thong and quickly throw on the first bathing suit, avoiding the mirror until it’s in place. It’s a one-piece, which will solve the problem of hating my midsection, but future me will probably despise how pale my stomach will be in comparison to the rest of my body. So I peel it off and replace it with a basic black bikini.
“You okay?” Ezra calls, his voice gruff.
“Yeah, just… why do they make the lighting so awful in these things?”
“Come out here and look. There’s a mirror, and the lighting looks pretty good.”
Slipping my feet into my Birks, I pull back the curtain. As I step out into the tiny hallway, I nearly bump into Ezra’s knees.
He straightens his spine, his eyes level with my?—
Cheeks heating, I cross my arms in front of my breasts, but that only pushes them up.
He swipes a hand down his face and clears his throat, shifting his long legs to the side to make room for me to pass by. At the mirror, I can see him, which means he can see me. All of me .
Fuck, why am I like this? I never used to be this insecure about my body.
The lighting really is better out here, giving the illusion of less cellulite and fewer stretch marks. A hint of relief travels through me as I take myself in. The bikini keeps all my lady bits secured properly, so rather than torture myself and try on any other suits, I dart back into the changing room and put my clothes back on. Then I grab the same suit in two other colors and snag a large, flowy cover-up before heading to the checkout counter.
Ezra tosses a bottle of sunscreen, two towels, swim trunks, and a white bikini onto the counter, then pulls out his credit card.
“What? No, you?—”
“I’ve got it.” He winks at the salesclerk. And because I’ve exhausted all my energy arguing with myself over my swimsuit choices, I keep my mouth shut.
When we get outside, I snag the keys from him and hop into the driver’s seat. Blessedly, he doesn’t argue. He just rounds the car and climbs in, bag in hand.
“What was that back there?” I jam the key into the ignition.
“What?”
I purse my lips and shoot him a glare. “Don’t act dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”
“We’re on our honeymoon, remember? I can’t have people thinking I don’t take care of my wife.”
With a slow blink, I cock my head. “Ah, yes. The wife whose last name you took. Makes total sense.”
Ezra is silent a beat, then exhales loudly. “You’re right.”
“Sorry, what?”
“You’re ri—oh, fuck off.” He chuckles.
After changing in a wooden stall at the beach, I join Ezra, where he’s laid the towels out side by side. He’s wearing pale pink trunks that hug his upper thighs immaculately.
“Wow, it’s stunning here.” Digging my toes into the brown sugar–like sand, I take in the lush, green mountains. They’re extravagant, straight out of a movie.
“This side of the island is windier, but it’s definitely the prettiest.”
Waves a palette of blues and greens gently crash onto the shore, providing the perfect ambience for our silence. The faintly floral scent of the tropical breeze is mixed with the rich, smoky aroma of a nearby barbecue, as well as Ezra’s sunscreen. The coconut smell sends me straight to the summers I spent at theater camp. Spider webs nestled between bunk beds, sopping-wet underwear abandoned in shower stalls, and potato chips stuffed in turkey bacon sandwiches. Quirky memories like those always hit me first. The innocent and goofy ones. Sure, I experienced moments with the stereotypical cliques and backstabbers clawing their way to the top, but overall, it was the most fun I had as a kid. A place where I felt truly alive and welcome.
Ezra clears his throat beside me, breaking through the haze of nostalgia. “Can I say something without the risk of sounding like a total ass and offending you?”
I huff a loud breath and cock a brow. “Can you?”
“I don’t know how to say?—”
“Then don’t.” I sense in my veins what’s next. Something along the lines of “you’ve gained weight.” Though I doubt he’d be that blunt, it doesn’t make the question any more appropriate.
He scans my body, top to bottom, then zeroes in on my legs below the hem of my cover-up.
This is it. Annoyance flares to life in my every cell. This is where another man has an opinion about my body.
Head tilted, he says, “I don’t know why you’re covering up.”
Without missing a beat, I feign laughter. “Have you seen how pale I am? I’m like Casper the Friendly Ghost next to you.” I nudge his naked arm with my elbow.
“What’s wrong with fair skin? Just make sure to use sunscreen so you don’t burn.” He tosses the bottle to me. “Plus, you’ve gotta get in the water sometime.”
“I’m waiting until I’m hot enough.”
“Oh, you’re plenty hot, honey.” He winks.
I blink in astonishment, my mind going blank.
“If you don’t take that damn muumuu off right now, I’m tossing you in the water with it on. ”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Luscious brow quirked, Ezra hauls me off the ground and throws me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Then he takes off toward the water, his shoulder digging into my hip as he runs.
Boobs bouncing against his back, I squeal and smack his ass. (Instant regret. It’s a nice fucking ass.)
As salt water splashes in my face, I close my eyes and sputter. “Put me down.” I smack his backside again, though a little higher this time. “I didn’t think you were serious, you jerk.”
Ezra sinks until we’re fully submerged, and when we come up for air, he sets me on my feet in the water, causing a cool sensation to sweep against my skin at the break in contact.
“I was seriously getting sick of you covering up that smoking-hot body.”
I splay both hands over my chest where the wet fabric of my cover-up is plastered against my skin. “What. No, it’s not—I’m not?—”
“Millie, stop.”
Flabbergasted, I search his dark eyes for humor; it’s not the comment I was expecting.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been hiding your body. That’s not like you.”
My stomach twists painfully. “You don’t even know me.”
He breaks into a knowing smile, backlit by the sun. “I wouldn’t say that .” He flicks water at my face. “I know you’re not shy about your body.”
“That was before…” I let what I really want to say float away on the horizon.
“Before what?”
I shake my head. Are we really having this conversation right now? “I’ve gained weight,” I whisper. “Haven’t you noticed?”
His lips turn down in a frown. “This feels like a trick question. ”
A shallow wave crashes, splashing our faces, and in unison, we wipe our eyes.
“Can I be completely honest?” he asks, though he doesn’t wait for me to respond before going ahead with the statement. “When we met in Greece last year, you looked… great. Wonderful. But now? You’re stunning . So fucking sexy I can’t keep my eyes off you.”
My heart trips over itself just as another sapphire swell crashes. It forces my feet off the ocean floor and shifts me closer to Ezra before setting me back down. “Really?”
“Really. Every new curve…” He raises a hand like he’s going to touch me but submerges it again quickly. “Fuck. Let’s just say I’m glad the water’s covering me right now.”
I’m grinning when another wave crashes over us, this one with more force, and I’m tossed against Ezra. He catches me by the waist, and I feel just what he’s talking about.
“I felt his thingy, Jo,” I whisper-shout at my cousin over FaceTime.
She cackles, her voice tinny through the speaker of my phone. “You did not just call Ezra’s dick his ‘thingy.’ Please tell me that’s not what the cool kids are calling it these days.”
“Ugh.” With a groan, I peek out the door one more time. Ezra left for a run a few minutes ago, and I absolutely do not need him to know I’m talking about his package. His packing package.
“What did you do?” Joey asks.
I settle on the sofa, basking in the late afternoon breeze coming in from the open window. “Nothing. I schlepped my ass back to the car. I didn’t even fully dry off. It was awkward as hell. ”
Rather than respond, she tilts her head and assesses me quietly.
“What?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, but you’re giving me a look.”
“Fine. Did you like his thingy ?” She can’t help but giggle.
“Don’t call it a thingy,” I shout.
“Hey, you started it.” She grins. “But seriously. Did you?”
I’m forced to confront what I’ve been avoiding for the last half hour. Did I like the feel of his semihard cock against my pelvis?
Is the sky blue?
Are otters cute?
“It doesn’t matter.” Desperate to change the subject, I scan the room behind her and quickly come up with the perfect distraction. “Speaking of thingies , what is that behind you?”
Her eyes widen, and she lets out an audible gasp.
“Is that your strap-on?” I squeal.
“ Maybe …” She snatches it from her nightstand and tosses it out of view.
“Oh. I’ve got a serious question.” I waggle my brows, eager to continue the deflection. “Obviously you and Cam would never break up, but hypothetically speaking, if you did, who would take ownership of the strap-on?”
She barks out a laugh. “You act like it’s a dog.”
“I have heard you call Cam a good boy.”
“Oh my god.”
“It’s not my fault the apartment walls are thin.”
“Anyway,” she yawns. “It’s getting late, and we have an early flight in the morning. I should go, but don’t think this conversation about Ezra’s?—”
“ Don’t say it.” I laugh, nearly dropping the phone .
“Monster cock.”
My heart stutters, and I sober. “Wait. How do you know that?”
“In Greece. I walked in on you two in bed the next morning, remember?”
“Barely,” I sigh. “I’d been drinking that night, and he refused to have sex with me.”
A Cheshire smile spreads across Joey’s face. “Sounds like Ezra’s a good boy too.”
“You’re ridiculous. Say hi to your mom for me when you see her, and have a safe flight, ’kay?”
“Will do. I love you.”
“Love you more.”