Chapter 18
Zander had heard of the honeymoon phase a million times, and he figured he had a pretty good idea of how great that time must be. But after last night, he realized he’d had no clue. And the funny thing was, all he’d done was hold her in his arms throughout the night.
Still, it was nothing short of heaven. Of course, he’d found himself waking periodically to inhale her tropical scent, kiss the gentle bend of her neck, and drift back to sleep feeling more content that he’d been in years. He loved her, and the knowledge thrilled and petrified him all at once.
Sunlight poured into the beach house as Zander sliced up vegetables for a breakfast skillet.
Fresh zucchini, baby red potatoes, and shitake mushrooms. In a couple of hours, their ride would be there, and he and Kat would say goodbye to their private island.
For now, anyway; if Zander had it his way, he’d bring Kat back to their special place in the Maldives often.
He’d gotten used to the pattern they’d established since their arrival. Kat sleeping in while Zander got up, worked out on the beach, and prepared breakfast.
The thought reminded him of a conversation he and Kat needed to have. It was the are-we-going-to-live-at-my-place-or-yours talk. During his last video diary, Marsha had told Zander they’d need to make a decision before they returned.
Zander wanted to invite Kat to come stay at his place, but his place meant, well, exactly that—his place, not Duke’s. Which pointed to the more pressing conversation he needed to have with her. One that informed her he wasn’t the brother she thought he was.
Panic threatened to consume him at the idea, but he was quick to squelch it.
She’ll be fine with it. She has to be. Sure, she’d said the biggest upset she had over her ex was that he’d lied about who he was. But that lie was centered around who he was as a person. She’d said it herself—the man she’d fallen in love with didn’t even exist.
But Zander did. And he lived the exact life he’d told her he lived. No secret wife and kids on the side. No dark past he was keeping from her. So who cared if she got one twin over the other? She didn’t know Duke from Adam.
Similar thoughts accompanied Zander as he fired up the skillet and grilled the veggies. If he timed it just right, he’d be ready to fry the eggs once Kat was dressed and ready for the day.
Yet as he spun around to grab the pepper grinder, the familiar sound of a motorboat got his attention. If Jamal had come early, Zander would have to remind him of the pickup time; they still had a few hours of precious alone time left, and he wasn’t willing to give that up.
He twisted the tall grinder over the skillet before setting it back in place and glanced out the window once more. Jamal was docking the small boat.
Zander wiped his hands on a dishtowel and headed outside to meet him.
As bright as the inside of the beach house was, surrounded by walls of glass, it was even brighter without the shield of the structure’s roof.
Warm wind wafted over his skin as he met the man on the dock, squinting against the sun.
“Good morning,” he hollered, hefting a large basket from the boat. “The producer of your television show told me to give this to you. She asked if we could extend your visit an extra night. I said yes.”
Zander took the offered basket. “Thank you. We’re staying another night?” he confirmed.
“Yes,” the man said.
“Without the others?” Zander asked next.
Another nod. “Yes, sir. If you’d like, I can take you and the Mrs. to the local market for any grocery items you’d like. Say in, an hour?”
They had another whole day alone. Uninterrupted. The news was a high of its own. “That would be great. Thank you.”
As Zander headed back to the beach house, he eyed the basket in his arms. A small handheld camera rested inside, along with a folded note addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Benton.
Zander wasted no time snatching up the note once he set the basket onto the table.
Hello newlyweds,
Hope you’re enjoying your time on your own private island. Sadly, our camera crew Stan and Trish have fallen ill this morning. No point in having you return when we can’t film.
Please enjoy an extra night there, but use the camera provided to film footage of your time for our editing crew to work with. Also, each of you record a ten-minute private video diary about your thoughts and feelings thus far.
Happy honeymooning,
Marsha
A wide grin spread over Zander’s face. Happy honeymooning, indeed. He strode into the bedroom with the card in hand. “Oh, honey,” he called out in a singsong voice. He caught sight of Kat through the open doorway, standing up to the bathroom vanity.
She scrunched her nose while circling a makeup brush over her face. “Yeah?”
“We got a special delivery.” Zander ran his gaze up her slender form, admiring the way her pale blue sundress accented the warm tones of her tan skin. There went that scent of her as he approached, sweet and tempting like an icy pina colada on a hot day.
Kat flashed him that gorgeous grin before setting her eyes on the note. She mumbled incoherently until blurting, “Please enjoy an extra night there?” She tossed the card and bolted toward Zander with a squeal.
He barely had time to brace himself as she jumped into his arms. Zander chuckled under his breath.
“This is the best news ever.” She pressed kisses to his face, one after the other before pulling back to meet his gaze. “Right?”
The warmth of her breath on his skin fogged his brain. “Definitely,” he agreed. “Now we’ve got the whole day to do what we want, no production crew tagging along.”
Kat hurried back over to her makeup mirror. “I’m up for anything,” she declared. “But what I think sounds like the most fun is exploring this little island together. Circling the entire thing, venturing into the jungle-like part of it, maybe take a picnic along…”
Zander liked that idea as well. Enjoying another relaxed day with Kat by his side sounded like a dream.
His mind wandered back to the conversation they needed to have.
While he wanted to tell Kat who he was before they left the Maldives, he wasn’t sure if he’d do it before they went back to their bungalow.
If he picked the wrong time to break the news, Kat could cut their time at the Maldives short.
Worse yet, she could—in a fit of anger—call for a water taxi and take off.
It might sound selfish or cruel, and maybe it was, but Zander couldn’t help but think his best chances of talking things out might be when the two were mid-flight. At least that way, she couldn’t run off before he had the chance to explain.
A deep sigh made its way through his lungs as he headed back toward the kitchen, further puzzling over the dilemma. If he thought things could go that badly, he should probably act sooner rather than later, before the betrayal went on any longer.
His gaze shot out the window where it settled on a massive sunbeam streaming from a thin puff of clouds. Lord, I know I messed up by not telling her sooner. Heck, maybe I messed up by doing this altogether, but I love her.
A hot ache tore through him at the truth of it. Please, help me make it right.
Kat watched in admiration as Zander gripped onto the hand-made swing—a bamboo stick tied to a dangling rope. The action caused every muscle along his back, shoulders and arms to pop with impressive definition.
He swung over the water, back past the land, and then over the water once more before releasing the bar. With skilled precision, he wrapped his arms around his knees, tucking them to his chest, and hit the water with a perfectly balanced splash.
Kat clapped her hands as he swam back to the shore.
The turquoise water was a sight of its own, especially when the afternoon sun glistened off the rippling surface, but there was still no comparison when it came to the body of perfection that was her husband.
Duke Benton. She was actually married to one of the Benton brothers.
The wild twin who, it seemed, refused to settle down.
The reminder fanned at a thread of thoughts in the back of her mind. Thoughts that—somehow—lingered just beyond her mental grasp. And it seemed that every time she sensed it, tried to reach for it, the idea darted away like a frightened guppy.
She wasn’t sure what it was, only knew that it had something to do with her handsome groom. The one she’d cuddled with all night long, and played with—like a young child, she might add—most of the day as well.
The program had not failed her. From what she could tell thus far, they’d found her a man who complimented her in several ways.
He liked to fix breakfast, she liked to sleep in.
He liked just one pillow, which allowed her to take up all the rest. And despite the hurt she’d experienced in the past, he made her feel at ease.
She trusted him, a fact that allowed her to fall in love in a matter of days.
“So what’s my score?” he asked, snatching a towel draped over a branch.
“Nine and a half,” she said with a grin.
He rubbed the towel over his face before furrowing his brow at her. “Not a ten?”
“You forgot to do the Tarzan call this time,” she said.
He chuckled. “You like that, do you?”
Heat pooled into her center as she took in the look in his deep blue eyes. “Yes.”
He rubbed the towel over his head before running his fingers through the wet, dark strands.
“Charlotte—I told you about how she’s a huge fan—she says she can’t believe you actually cut your man bun for the wedding. Are you glad you did?”
Duke joined her on the sun bed, tucked the towel under his head, and laid back. “The more important question,” he said, “is if you’re glad I did.” He nudged her bare arm with his and shot her a grin. “Which do you like better?”