31. Landon
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Landon
Mr. Davis’s voice comes clear through the speaker. “I was finally able to make contact with Macy,” he says. “She’s… open to a conversation. But only if compensated for her time and travel.”
My jaw flexes. Of course she is. “What kind of compensation are we talking?”
“Flights, hotel, a stipend. Nothing outrageous, but not charity either. She’s positioning herself as… cooperative, but unwilling to take a loss for the effort.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Chloe’s mother—absent for months of her life, suddenly interested when there’s leverage to be gained.
Part of me wants to tell Davis to let her rot. But it isn’t my decision. Not mine alone.
“I’ll pass the message to Rhett,” I say finally, voice clipped.
“Good,” Davis replies. “Keep me updated. We’ll need to move fast if she decides to play ball.”
The call ends. The dashboard glows faintly in the dim light, and I stare out at the palm trees whipping by. Rhett deserves to know, but not now. Not here, not when we’re supposed to be giving Ivy the kind of weekend she’ll never forget.
He just dropped Chloe and Storm at Brooke’s this morning, a backpack full of toys and bottles, the look on his face a mix of guilt and relief. He’s earned a breather, and so has she.
I tuck my phone into the cup holder and glance over my shoulder.
We’re parked in the little seaside town of Key Biscayne, palm-lined streets dotted with boutiques and cafés. Hunter insisted we stop before the final drive down to our villa.
He’s in the passenger seat now, holding two cups of fresh-pressed juice, one of which Ivy is sipping like it’s nectar.
She looks… radiant. There’s no other word for it.
Her hair’s down, the loose waves catching the sunlight as it slides through the windshield. She’s in a pale yellow sundress that ties at the shoulders, soft cotton that skims her thighs and flares just enough to float around her knees. Her hand gently presses on her belly.
Soon, she will be swelling up with our babies. I can hardly believe it. I catch myself smiling like an idiot.
Hunter nudges her glass higher. “Careful, you’ll drink it all before Rhett gets back.”
She grins, lips glossy from the citrus. “That’s the plan.”
I lean my arm against the steering wheel, letting myself watch her for a moment longer. The dress, the way she laughs with Hunter like there’s no anxieties pressing on her chest—damn, she’s beautiful. And she’s ours.
Rhett emerges from the corner store, bags in hand, his baseball cap low over his face. He tosses them into the trunk before climbing into the backseat.
“Supplies secured,” he says, settling in. “Chips, chocolate, Gatorade, and that weird trail mix Landon eats.”
“It’s called balanced nutrition,” I mutter.
“It’s called bird food,” Rhett shoots back, grinning.
I shift the car into drive, merging back onto the causeway. The city falls away behind us, the ocean widening on either side. Ivy hums softly as she sips her juice again, one hand resting over her belly like she’s guarding treasure.
We drive south, the chatter fading into content quiet.
Palm fronds whip in the breeze, the sun climbs higher, and soon enough the gates of the private resort loom ahead.
Security waves us through after checking the reservation, and the long driveway curves between manicured hedges and bougainvillea.
Then the villa comes into view.
It’s breathtaking.
White stucco walls gleam against the blue sky, the roof tiled in terracotta, wide balconies wrapping around the upper level. Floor-to-ceiling windows flash like mirrors, catching the sea beyond.
The villa sits perched on a rise, steps leading down to a stretch of private beach so pristine it looks painted—sugar-white sand, waves rolling in lazy and turquoise.
“Holy shit,” Hunter breathes, craning his neck.
I park in the circular drive, gravel crunching under the tires. The three of us step out. Ivy lingers by the passenger side, sundress swaying in the breeze, her lips parted as she stares.
“It’s…” Her voice falters. “It’s gorgeous.”
Rhett circles around to her side, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Only the best for you, baby girl.”
Inside, the villa is even better. The foyer opens wide, ceilings vaulted, chandeliers dripping glass.
The living room stretches toward the deck, every inch decorated in warm neutrals and coastal blues. Plush sofas, thick rugs, abstract art that probably costs more than my car.
Hunter whistles low. “Not bad for two hockey idiots and one lawyer.”
“Correction,” I say dryly. “One lawyer, one hockey idiot, and Rhett.”
Rhett flips me off good-naturedly as we wander deeper. There are six bedrooms, each with its own bath, but it’s the main suite that steals the show.
The bed is massive—larger than a king, dressed in crisp white sheets that look sinful just waiting to be ruined.
French doors open onto a balcony overlooking the ocean, the sound of waves drifting in on the breeze.
There’s a claw-foot tub tucked into the corner, marble counters gleaming in the en suite.
Ivy steps into the room, her hand rising to her mouth. “Oh my god.”
Hunter bounces onto the mattress, limbs sprawling. “Dibs.”
“Not how this works,” Rhett grumbles, dragging him off by the ankle.
I lean against the doorway, watching Ivy trace her hand along the railing of the balcony, eyes wide as the sea air tugs at her hair. She turns, gaze darting between us.
“There are so many rooms. Where are you guys staying?”
“Here,” Rhett answers instantly.
“Yeah,” Hunter agrees, already tugging open the bedside drawers like he expects hidden treasure.
Her brows lift. “All of you?”
“All of us,” I confirm. “We’re not spreading out. The point is to be together. You, us, this weekend.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows, eyes shiny. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.” I step closer, brushing a knuckle along her arm. “You think we’d leave you to sleep in here alone? Not happening.”
Hunter bounces onto the bed again, earning a glare from Rhett. “Guess that means it’s cuddle central.”
“Holy hell,” Rhett mutters, but he doesn’t push him off this time.
Ivy laughs softly, slipping her sandals off to curl onto the edge of the mattress. She looks so small there, sundress pooling around her thighs.
I just stand there, soaking in my new reality. This villa, the ocean, the four of us —it’s not the life I imagined at forty-two. It’s better. Messier, scarier, but better.
And this weekend? It’s the start of something we’ll never forget.
The villa is quiet except for the low hum of the ocean outside. Ivy fell asleep not long after lunch, curled up in the huge bed with the blinds half-drawn, her dress draped over a chair.
She barely touched her food before her eyelids fluttered shut, and I don’t blame her. Carrying three babies would take the fight out of anyone, and she’s been holding herself together on nerves alone since the ultrasound.
So we let her sleep.
The three of us migrate outside. The pool glitters like cut glass in the afternoon sun, turquoise water blending into the horizon where the sea begins.
Rhett claims one of the loungers, shades on, arms crossed behind his head, soaking it in like he hasn’t been running on fumes lately. Hunter dives in, limbs cutting through the water with that cocky grace that never leaves him, even off the ice.
I stick to the shallow end, waist-deep, the salt clinging to my skin from earlier making the cool water feel even better.
Hunter paddles up beside me, hair slicked back, grin wide. “We should hit the waves tomorrow morning. Place like this? Bet the surf is insane.”
“Tomorrow,” Rhett calls from his lounger without opening his eyes. “Let her rest today. She barely made it through check-in before she started yawning.”
Hunter nods, then smirks. “Speaking of tomorrow, when are we giving her the gifts?”
I arch a brow. “Impatient much?”
“Man, I’ve been sitting on this for days.” He splashes water in my direction like a kid. “She’s gonna love them.”
Rhett finally lifts his sunglasses, fixing him with a look. “Be patient. You’ll ruin the fun if you rush it. Remember, when we get back we’ve still got Chloe’s birthday party to plan. You don’t want to blow through everything now.”
Hunter groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine. But tomorrow night, I swear?—”
The sound of a voice slices through the air.
“Hey, guys.”
We all turn at once.
And time stops.
She’s standing just outside the sliding doors, barefoot, her skin kissed pink from sleep. The red bikini she’s wearing is small, string ties biting into her hips and neck, the triangle top stretched around her breasts.
And below it, just visible now, the gentle curve of her stomach.
My throat goes dry. Fuck. She’s so fucking pretty it hurts.
The three of us move as one, drawn like moths to flame. By the time she steps onto the pool deck, we’re circling her, pressing kisses to her shoulders, her hair, the warm skin at her jaw.
She giggles, squirming under the attention, but she doesn’t push us away. If anything, she leans closer, sighing like we’re exactly what she wanted.
She slips down onto the edge of the pool, feet dipping into the water.
The sun hits her skin, turning her golden.
Hunter drops beside her with a plate of fruit he snagged from the kitchen—slices of mango, pineapple, strawberries—and starts feeding them to her like it’s his personal mission.
She lets him, lips parting around each piece, tongue brushing his fingers when she thinks we’re not watching.
“This place is so beautiful,” she says between bites, her eyes sweeping over the pool, the beach, the sky.
“It is,” I agree quietly, though I’m not looking at the ocean. I’m looking at her.
Hunter grins, leaning closer. “You know what would make it even better?”
Her brows lift, amused. “What?”
“Me between your thighs.”
Rhett groans, tossing his sunglasses onto the lounger. “Hunter…”
“What?” Hunter spreads his hands, all wide-eyed innocence. “It’s private. No one can see us. And she looks…” His voice dips lower. “She looks incredible right now.”
Ivy laughs, tossing her head back, the sound like music. “I just came out here for the sun.”
“Exactly.” Hunter scoots closer, nudging her knees apart with a grin that’s pure sin. “Multitask.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t move. And when his hand trails up her thigh, slow and sure, her breath catches. The laughter fades into a softer sound, one that makes heat pool low in my gut.
I stand there, watching as Hunter lowers himself, as his mouth presses against the strings of her bikini bottom and then lower, tugging the fabric aside. She gasps, one hand flying to his hair, the other gripping the edge of the pool.
The sight pins me in place. The red of her bikini, the way her body arches against the tile as he tastes her—it’s almost too much. Rhett shifts beside me, muttering a curse under his breath, and I know he feels it too.
Ivy’s moans grow sharper, punctuated by little whimpers as Hunter eats her out like a starving man. He murmurs things against her skin, filthy encouragements that make her thighs tremble. She’s so responsive, so open, it’s like watching the sun rise and set all at once.
When she comes, it’s with a cry that echoes across the patio, her back bowing, toes curling against the pool water. Her head tips back, hair spilling like dark silk, her whole body shuddering with release.
Hunter lifts his head, grinning, his mouth glistening. “Told you. Perfect.”
She’s still catching her breath, half-laughing, half-weak, when Rhett and I step forward together. “Enough teasing,” Rhett mutters, hooking an arm under her.
I slip in on her other side, and between the two of us we lift her, her legs curling around Rhett’s waist instinctively. She giggles, breathless, protesting faintly but not really resisting as we carry her through the sliding doors, across the cool tile, and into the bedroom.
We lay her down on the huge bed, the white sheets swallowing her red bikini like a flag of warning. She’s flushed, glowing, still trembling from the poolside orgasm Hunter coaxed out of her, and she looks at the three of us with wide, dazed eyes.
And I think, not for the first time, that I could live my entire life chasing this—her laughter, her gasps, the way she opens for us—and never want for anything else.
The afternoon sun pours in through the balcony doors, gilding her skin, turning the villa into a cathedral.
And as we climb onto the bed beside her, hungry and reverent all at once, I know this babymoon is exactly what it was meant to be—a beginning.