Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Annalise
It’s really hard trying to pack for a weekend beach getaway with my fake husband, whom I real-life dislike, for a military spy mission where I have to convincingly act like I’m relaxing.
If Aiden weren’t my partner, I would probably be excited. Seabrim is only a couple of hours away, but it’s much warmer there, which means I need to pack my swimsuit too.
Once I finally get my backpack packed, because a suitcase would be too obvious, I walk out to meet Aiden in the parking lot.
Already leaning against his fancy car when I arrive, he looks far too calm about having to pretend to be married to me. He smirks when he and I both realize I’ve been staring at him. I’m already annoyed.
“Well, Mrs. Carter,” he drawls, nodding toward my backpack, “You sure packed light. How very—convincing. I’m sure every honeymooner uses a backpack for their luggage.”
I sling the bag off my shoulder.
“I needed to get across campus without anyone asking me where I was going.”
Lifting his hands in mock surrender, “Fair point. Now, shall we get going? I could use a little time relaxing on the beach.”
“I’m not sure how much ‘relaxing’ time we’re going to get on our mission.” I know I’m being a bitch, but I can’t help it. I tossed and turned all night, replaying the shit he and Lucas have pulled since we met, and now I have to act like none of it happened.
“Relaxing is relative,” he says, opening the passenger door for me like he’s already in character.
As we drive out of the parking lot, Aiden glances at me before reaching into the back seat and pulling out a medium-sized gift bag. “Here,” he says, holding it out to me. “Consider it a…truce gift.”
I stare at the bag for all of two seconds before the words cut out of me, sharper than I intended.
“A truce? Really?” I scoff.
“Yes, really.” He’s annoyed, but does he really think a gift will erase everything? The dead pig for goddess sake!
“For the weekend, for the mission, we pretend we’re the perfect married couple. No snapping at each other. No passive-aggressive comments. Just teamwork.”
I want to scream at his audacity, but a tiny part of me—call it survival instinct—realizes that agreeing is probably the smarter choice. Ghost Walking is not the class to make mistakes in, especially when one wrong move could have you forgetting you were ever in it.
“If this is a dead animal, I’ll murder you.” I take the package hesitantly.
He fucking laughs, “Not a dead animal, I promise.”
Slowly pulling the tissue paper out, I peek inside. A sleek pair of sunglasses and a wide-brimmed beach hat stare back at me. I stumble on each word as it comes out, “These are actually really nice, thank you.”
“My wife can’t go on a beach vacation without the basics.” He’s smiling, clearly proud of himself, and I equally want to hit him and kiss him for how considerate of a gift it is. “Now, do we have a deal?"
I huff out a laugh despite myself. “Fine. Truce. But don’t think this means I’m going to start enjoying your company.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I tuck the hat back into the bag and put the beautiful sunglasses on. “Alright, Mr. Carter. Let’s survive this weekend in one piece.”
“Deal, Mrs. Carter,” he replies, sliding his own sunglasses on, the picture of infuriating ease. “I have the perfect plan, but for it to work, we’re going to need to relax a bit and embrace the newlywed stereotype.”
“If you say your plan is for us to have sex in the ocean, I’m jumping out of the car right now.”
“Not where I was going with that, but you might be able to convince me,” he winks at me, “for the mission's sake, of course.”
I groan, “This is going to be a nightmare.”
“Speak for yourself,” Aiden says, turning on Fade Away by Rebelution. “I plan on enjoying the sun, sand, and your charming company.”
I bite back a retort, settling into the seat and silently plotting how to survive the next forty-eight hours without stabbing him—or falling for his stupid smile again.
We’re almost to Seabrim, the cozy town we’ll be staying in, when Aiden turns down the music.
“What kind of food do you like?” he asks. “I doubt they stocked the house for us, so I’m thinking we eat out tonight and then grocery shop tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” I say, before realizing how domestic that all just sounded. “I’ll eat pretty much anything. Is there something you’re craving?”
For half a second, I catch a flicker of a smile before he hides it. “There’s a really popular taco stand on the way to the house. Or, if we want to order in, there’s a place a few miles away with award-winning pasta. You pick.”
I narrow my eyes. “Wait, have you been here before?”
“No, but I did do some research on the area last night.”
Of course, that would have been the smart thing to do. But instead, I was too busy trying to figure out how to pack for a fake marriage vacation without losing my mind.
“Uhm—I don’t know! You pick! I wasn’t craving anything, but now they both sound so good!”
Aiden glances at me, one eyebrow raised. “You realize that’s not an answer, right?”
I groan. “You can’t spring two amazing options on me like that! Pasta or tacos? That’s emotional sabotage.”
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Fine. You’re indecisive, I’ll handle it.”
“Handle it how?” I ask.
Instead of answering, he flips on his turn signal and takes the next exit. “We’ll get both.”
I blink at him. “Both? You’re seriously going to order tacos and pasta?”
“Why not? We’re supposed to be newlyweds on vacation,” he says with a smirk. “If anyone asks, we’re sampling as much of the local cuisine as we can.”
I cross my arms, but can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Efficient,” he corrects. “Ridiculously efficient.”
A few minutes later, he pulls up to a small taco stand with a couple of picnic tables scattered across the gravel lot, fairy lights strung overhead. The smell of grilled meat and ocean air hits me the second I step out of the car, and I sigh in contentment.
“I don’t trust you’ll be able to pick, so how about you relax at a table and I’ll go order?” he says.
“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”
“Stops complaining when fed, noted,” he jokes as he leaves me to go order.
I shake my head but can’t keep from smiling as I watch him talk easily with the vendor. He orders what looks like half the menu, earning an amused grin from the guy behind the grill, then joins me at the table while we wait for the food to be ready.
“Okay, maybe this was a good idea,” I admit, climbing into the car with the incredible smells wafting out of the bag I set at my feet.
“Don’t worry,” Aiden says as he starts the engine, “I already placed the pasta order. It’ll be delivered about the time we finish unpacking. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of choices.”
For a fleeting second, it actually feels like a real road trip—music low, windows cracked, the faint smell of the ocean somewhere ahead.
The sun has almost fully set when we pull up to the rental house—a small, modern beach cottage perched just above the dunes. The windows glow warm and golden against the deepening blue of the sky, and the steady crash of waves fills the air.
“This is—nicer than I expected,” I admit, stepping out of the car and stretching. The salty breeze whips through my hair, and I take a deep breath, soaking it in.
Aiden grabs our bags from the trunk as I get the food. “Only the best for you, Sweetheart,” he says, voice dripping with teasing charm.