Chapter 28
Olivia
The blinding glare from Reed’s bedroom window rouses me from a deep sleep, and the second my eyes are open, the headache hits me, full force.
Oh, god. What did I do to deserve this?
Images from last night are coming back to me in pieces—the restaurant is pretty clear in my memory, but the bar is a bit hazy, and everything after that… well. It’s all kind of a blur.
I rub my eyes, pushing myself upright. I’m in Reed’s bed, which is comforting at first, but then a little alarming. I don’t remember what I did or said last night; what if I embarrassed myself?
On the nightstand, there’s a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin, two of which have been left out. I reach over to scoop up the pills, then swallow them quickly with a gulp of cold water.
My headache starts to subside. I spend the next few minutes breathing in slowly, trying to make myself feel less dizzy before I slide out of bed. When I finally do make my way into the hall, I can hear movement in the kitchen.
Reed, already up, is pouring coffee into two thermoses. He looks up as I enter the kitchen, grinning.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
I groan in response, rubbing my forehead. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”
“How are you feeling?” he asks, handing me a thermos.
I breathe in the scent of coffee - now that hits the spot. “Not too bad. I could use a little more sleep, though. I have a killer headache.” I sip the coffee, then add, “It’s been a while since I was this hung over.”
He gives me a sympathetic smile. “You can sleep it off on the plane.”
I freeze, staring at him. “The what?”
“The plane,” he repeats. “I’m taking you somewhere for the rest of the weekend. Just the two of us. Get away from everything. What do you say?”
For a second, my jaw drops, and I have to force myself to close my mouth. Just the two of us? Am I imagining this? What in the world could have…
Oh. Wait.
A memory from last night flashes through my head, all at once.
I broke down in front of him. I gave in, and I kissed him—and then I cried. Oh, god. I remember his arms around me, and I think I remember asking for them, too.
I can feel the heat in my face, and suddenly, I can’t look him in the eye anymore. I bite my lip, looking at the ground. “Um, listen, if this is about last night…”
“It’s not,” he says gently. “I just want to take my fiancé someplace nice. Okay?”
My heart skips a beat as he says that, and uneasily, I nod. That sounds real—more real than it ever has before. I want to be able to relax and enjoy it—this is all part of the Eastwood fiancé experience, right? When I signed those contracts, I should’ve figured that the perks would look like this.
But… after last night, and even before that, things between us were undeniably complicated. We haven’t resolved the question of what the hell is going on between us, and I know that I’m still careening toward heartbreak.
Inevitably, this is going to ruin me. At this point, that fact is the only thing I’m certain of.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes to ease my headache. Come on, I tell myself. Get it together. You signed a contract, and he wants to take you on vacation. At least try to enjoy this while it lasts.
“Okay,” I say finally. “Let’s go.”
He grins. “Okay. Be ready to leave in an hour.” He pauses, half-shrugging, and says, “Or whenever, really. I mean, it’s my plane. It’s not like it’s going to leave without us.”
I head to my bedroom to hop in the shower—I’m not about to get on a plane this hungover. To my surprise, when I look in the bathroom mirror, my face is clear. I was expecting to have raccoon eyes from my mascara smearing, but it looks like I removed it last night.
Which is impossible, since I was a total mess last night. So Reed must have done it.
I push the thought out of my head before it can make me freak out again and climb in the shower, turning the water temperature up so that the steam can clear my head. By the time I’m done, I’ve managed to relax a little.
I pack a bag quickly. I’m not sure how long we’ll be away, so I opt to bring some extra clothes, and make sure to pack my knitting supplies. Then I head out into the foyer to meet Reed.
His driver is waiting for us at the entrance to The Luxe, and loads our bags into the trunk while I pepper Reed with questions.
“It’s your plane? You mean you own it?”
“Yeah.”
“And it just sits at the airport?”
“Until I need to go somewhere, yeah.”
“Do you pay a pilot?” I’m a bit flabbergasted. I knew that he was rich, but I guess I miscalculated just how rich. It shouldn’t take me by surprise—I’ve known the Eastwoods since I was a child—but somehow, I’m still blown away.
“Of course,” he says, chuckling. “What, did you think I flew it myself?”
On the way to the airport, another question occurs to me. An important question.
“Wait—where exactly are we going?”
He gives me an amused look, like he was wondering how long it was going to take me to ask. “You ever heard of Turks and Caicos?”
“It rings a bell,” I say. “I think I’ve heard it in a movie, or something.”
He laughs at that. “Probably. It’s in the Caribbean.”
At JFK, Reed’s driver doesn’t take us to the terminal, like I was expecting. He drives straight to the tarmac, where we’re greeted by an impressive, streamlined jet. I follow Reed out of the car and straight onto the stairs to board the plane.
It’s every bit as luxurious in the cabin as it is in The Luxe. Almost as soon as we take our seats, the plane is taxiing; we’re in the air within ten minutes, and for the entire flight, we kick back and sip champagne.
I try to pester him for details about this vacation—what’s our itinerary? Where are we staying? But he remains tight-lipped, smiling secretively as he watches the clouds outside the windows.
The flight lasts around three and a half hours, and the instant we land, a car is waiting to pick us up.
The air is warm, much warmer than it was in New York; as we descended over the runway, I got a gorgeous view of a white-sand beach and azure sea. I can smell the ocean in the air, too—it’s fresh and salty, and the sea breeze plays with my loose hair.
I’m flabbergasted. I didn’t think he had the capacity to shock me anymore—I mean, I’ve been living in The Luxe for so long, I thought I knew what the deal was. But this… this is something else.
It’s the most aware of his wealth I’ve ever been. From the plane, to the cars, to the private gate the driver takes us to… he’s clearly spoiling me.
In my wildest dreams, I might have imagined staying at a resort, or in a fancy, beachside hotel. Apparently, my wildest dreams aren’t wild enough.
We’re staying in a private, secluded villa. The mansion is huge, and we have it all to ourselves. I drop my bags in the hallway, gaping around at the artwork on the walls and the modern decor.
It’s designed just like the penthouse at The Luxe, except that the floor plan is even more open.
The main living area doesn’t even have walls; it opens right up to the deck, leaving the air fresh inside.
Even though the interior design is minimalist, everything still has a distinctly tropical flavor, from the splashes of color in the artwork to the potted palms around the place.
“You want to explore a little bit before we unpack?” Reed says, smiling.
I nod, then make my way from the foyer into the huge living area, past the cream-white couches and the massive flatscreen. Out on the deck there’s a beautiful infinity pool that gives way to the cerulean ocean.
It’s almost sunset, and the sky is pale, the sun low over the waves. The light gleams over the water. It’s the most incredible view I’ve ever seen.
I stand on the deck, speechless, staring out at the sea. A gentle breeze warms my face, carrying the scents of the ocean. It’s close enough that I’m certain there’s a beach nearby.
When he comes up behind me, he confirms my suspicions. “There’s a path that leads down to a private beach,” he says casually, flopping down on one of the deck chairs and crossing his feet—already relaxed. “So if you feel like taking a dip in the ocean, go for it.”
“This is unreal,” I say, blinking. “This place is stunning.”
He gives a little shrug and hums nonchalantly, but I can see the gleam in his eyes.
I’m struck by a sudden rush of excitement—I’m on vacation. I haven’t been on vacation in years, and never in my life have I been somewhere as beautiful as this. I want to live it up. I want to enjoy every single second of this.
“Can we go swimming?” I ask eagerly. “This pool is calling my name.”
“Sure,” he says, laughing. “Let’s do it.”
We change into bathing suits, and I tentatively stick a toe in the clear water.
It’s not as cold as I was afraid it would be, warmed by the constant sun.
I swim out to the pool’s infinity edge and fold my arms, staring out at the ocean.
It’s so peaceful that I actually let out an involuntary, contented sigh.
Then I feel Reed’s hands on my waist. I didn’t hear him coming; he moved through the water so silently. Giggling, I turn toward him and splash him in the face, soaking his hair.
“Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?” He gives me a mischievous grin, swatting the surface of the water until I’m drenched, too. Then he brushes the wet hair out of my eyes, and, just like that, I’m drawn into a kiss.
Reed’s tongue slides into my mouth, and the satisfied groan he lets out vibrates against my lips.
“Now this is a great way to start a vacation.”
I smile against his mouth. “What is?”
The setting sun catches in his eyes, the warm amber light behind him turning his skin gold. I run my hands down his arms, my palms skimming over the water beads that cling to his skin. He looks ridiculous like this, all wet hair and bare chest and that lazy half-smile.
“This,” he answers. “Being in the pool with you. Kissing you instead of doing literally anything else.”
I tilt my face closer to his, my voice dropping. “Then maybe you should keep kissing me.”