chapter twenty-three #2
He glances down at our entwined fingers.
“It was, but Mom and Roni somewhat filled that void for her. Like you, Krystal is an only child, except her parents were more concerned with their place in society than they were with supporting her decisions. Until she married me, she was their shiny, obedient trophy. But I guess Krystal wanted that lifestyle after all. To be a top-notch attorney, someone her parents could once again be proud of.”
I snap my face toward his. “Her parents would be proud that she cheated on you and destroyed your marriage?”
“My guess is they don’t know that part, and they probably never will.”
My jaw drops. “But that’s… that’s not fair.”
He turns to face me and gently tucks my hair behind my ear.
“It doesn’t matter, Riles. I don’t care what they know and what they don’t know.
All I care about is that I know the truth, Krystal knows the truth, and my family and friends know the truth.
If she wants to live a different life without grief or guilt, whether it’s real or not, then I’ll let her. ”
“Wow!” I scoff. “You’re a better person than I am.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know about that.”
“You are. I would’ve set the record straight, no doubt about it.”
“I want her to have peace, if that’s what she thinks peace is. She’s been through enough.”
Sliding my hand onto his face, I cup his cheek and peck his lips. “You’re incredible, and you should be proud of your strength and selflessness. Not many people could do what you’ve done.”
He jerks back and smiles. “Mom said the same thing.”
I wink. “That’s because she’s smart, like me.”
“You’re a lot like her, you know. Except for the eating meals part. Mom loves meals. Big meals. Three times a day. She’d be horrified to know you don’t.”
I pinch his cheek. “Hey! I do like meals, just not all the time.”
“We’ll see about that.” He opens the door and steps out on the balcony, and I can’t help smiling because it means he plans to be around in my not-so-distant future, at the very least.
Knowing that fills me with joy and hope, hope that we just might be able to make us work.
Staying put while Riley takes a moment outside, I twist my bracelet as he wrenches his arm back, rocks forward, and then pitches the box into the ocean, his hands grasping the railing as he leans over it and watches his ring splash into the water.
“Chapter closed,” he says, scrubbing his palms together.
I smile at his words but, at the same time, sympathize with his grief and the pain it caused. “The good thing about closed chapters is they set up the ones to come.”
He smirks. “Your fancy publisher talk is sexy.”
I laugh. “It’s not.”
“It is.” He strides toward me, pupils dilating. “Now, where were we?”
I step back as he reenters our cabin, my arms outstretched and locked, fingers splayed firmly against his chest.
He dips his head. “What’s wrong?”
“I just…. I don’t think now is a good time… for that.”
His shoulders sag. “I killed the mood, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.” I nod sadly. “You just officially ended your marriage, so maybe let that emotionally sink in first.”
“It already has,” he says, lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “But… I see your point.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, Riles. I do.”
“Good.” I exhale my relief. “Because I don’t want you to think I don’t want—”
“You don’t need to explain.” He smirks. “I know you want what I want.”
Releasing my hands from his, I cross my arms over my chest and smirk back. “And how exactly do you know that?”
He kisses the crook of my neck, then trails his tongue to the sensitive spot below my ear.
I gasp.
“That,” he whispers. “Remember?”
Groaning, I roll my shoulders. “You’re making me tense.”
“That’s not my plan, sweetheart.”
“I need a massage.”
His delicious, manly hands climb my arms, his fingers kneading delightfully.
I step back, pick up the envelope on the desk, and wave it in his face. “This! I need this.”
He frowns.
“Come on,” I say, clasping his hand and dragging him toward the door. “Let’s get our couples’ massage. It would be a shame to waste.”
Soft, sensual music fills the room as we enter the Lotus Spa, floral musky steam billowing from a crystal diffuser.
I breathe in the ambience, excited for the relaxation to come, and boy do I need it.
As much as I wanted to continue what we started before Riley signed his divorce papers and closed the chapter of his marriage, it just didn’t feel right at that moment, despite my body adamantly disagreeing with me.
“Smells like Roni in here,” he says, sniffing the air.
I pick up a pamphlet when one of the spa staff approaches, her hair neatly tied back in a bun, black uniform perfectly tailored. “Welcome to Lotus Spa. How can I help you?”
“We won this,” I explain, handing her our voucher.
“Congratulations! You’re in for a treat. We have a spot available now if you’d like. Or I can book you in for tomorr—”
I clap my hands, excited. “Now would be perfect!”
“I’ll just need you to fill out these forms. While you do that, I’ll get you both some refreshments.” She hands us two clipboards and pens before disappearing along a corridor, returning moments later with two glasses of champagne. “How’s it going? Any questions?”
Shaking my head, I take a glass from her and hand her my clipboard. Riley doesn’t answer, instead studying his paperwork in the corner of the room as if it’s written in a foreign language, so I take his glass from her and step up to him. “Everything all right?”
He points his pen at a specific question. “What did you write here?”
I lean forward and read it. “Are there any areas of your body that you prefer not to be massaged?”
“Yeah. What did you put down for that?”
“I wrote No.”
“Does that mean it’s a free-for-all?” he asks, lowering his voice.
“Free-for-all?”
“Yeah. My entire body.”
Laughter bursts from my throat. “I don’t know what type of massage you think this is, but I’m confident certain parts of you will remain untouched, at least by the staff.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “At least by the staff?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not staff.”
I pass him his drink and sip my own. “Hand her your clipboard, Riley.”
He clinks my glass with his, passes over his paperwork, and picks up a crystal, rotating it in his hand. “Roni likes these fancy rocks.”
“Those are not fancy rocks,” our hostess says. “They communicate with the energy flow of your body, assisting in realignment and healing.”
He stares at it. “This little pink rock talks?”
“Not exactly.” She snickers. “It communicates loving energy, replacing negativity and opening you up to self-forgiveness and trust. It’s also known to help increase fertility.”
He places it down again and murmurs into my ear, “Is she saying I could be pregnant now?”
Subtly elbowing him, I force a smile when she lifts her gaze from my paperwork and hugs the clipboards to her chest. “Perfect! We’re all set. Please come with me.”
We follow her into a dimly lit room with two massage beds in the center, plush white robes and towels neatly folded on top of them.
“I’ll give you both a minute to undress to your underwear, lie down, and cover yourself with the towels provided. Once your massage is complete, feel free to wear your robes and use the spa’s other facilities, such as the sauna and infinity pool. We also offer mud baths and—”
“No more mud,” Riley blurts, wrinkling his nose as he swallows his champagne. “My hair still hasn’t recovered from Iceland.”
Laughing, I say, “Thank you. I think we’ll just stick with the massage… for now.”
“Very well. Your masseuses will be along shortly.”
She leaves the room, and I turn in a circle, looking for a bathroom to undress in when Riley discards his empty glass, removes his T-shirt, and starts to unbutton his jeans.
“What are you doing?” I choke out, swallowing my last mouthful.
“Getting ready, what does it look like?”
He wrenches down his pants, then takes a seat on the leather bed, his legs lazily swinging as he leans back on his hands and smirks.
“What are you doing?” I ask again.
“Waiting for you to get ready. What does it look like?”
Unable to drag my eyes off his delectable thighs and abs, the chuckle climbing his throat snaps me out of my daze.
“Turn around,” I snap.
“Riles.”
“Do it.”
“You seem to forget I’ve seen you in your underwear. Twice.”
Growling at him, I set down my glass and remove my top, tossing it at his face before unbuttoning my denim shorts, wiggling them down my legs, and then kicking them aside.
He sits up straighter.
I smirk.
“Come here,” he says, voice low.
“No.”
“Riles.”
Shaking my head, I reach behind my back to unlatch the clasp of my bra, repeating, “Turn around.”