I wrapped her up in another long, fluffy bathrobe and tucked her into bed with a bowl of crackers and a large carafe of water. She twisted her wet hair up into a bun and sent me to find the heating pad in her suitcase. I cued up a new movie on my laptop and settled in beside her.
"This isn't what you had in mind for tonight," she said.
I nabbed one of her crackers. They were not terrible. "Yeah, it is."
"Don't do that," she said. "Don't pretend this is the same as whatever crazy, wild sex plan you had for me."
"I like how you think I have crazy, wild sex plans. Like, I'm sitting at home and writing out naked itineraries."
"You're not?"
"If I'm sitting at home, I'm probably trying to ignore the noises coming from Alex and Riley's apartment downstairs."
She dropped her head to my shoulder. "Are they that loud or are the walls that thin?"
"I think it's both," I replied. "The honeymoon never ended for them."
"Must be nice," she murmured. "I'm sorry about, you know, everything."
"I am still in bed with you," I said. "This is exactly what I wanted."
Chapter27
Sara
Sebastian pointedhis beer bottle down the beach to where white chairs and an orchid-draped arbor stood. Hotel staff were busy lining the perimeter with flower petals. "Are we going to a wedding today, Shap?"
I groaned from the comfort of my beach chair, pushed my toes deeper into the sand. "As long as I don't have to fly to Nashville for the bachelorette or spend five hundred dollars on a dress that won't be worn again, regardless of what the bride says, sure. Sign me up."
He turned toward me with a chuckle. "Always the bridesmaid?"
"Between my sorority sisters, the four girls I lived with during med school, and my friends from back home, I think I've been in a dozen weddings and attended a dozen more."
He peered at me, a small smile twisting across his lips. "Wouldn't have guessed sorority girl, but now that you say it"—he dragged a knowing gaze over my body and back up—"yeah, I see it."
"Don't look at me like that. You would've demolished the twenty-year-old version of me."
He barked out a laugh. "Probably not. Let's just say I didn't know what to do with pretty sorority girls when I was in college."
"Really? You didn't hit the ladies with your scowl-and-growl routine?"
He ran his knuckles along his scruffy jaw. "It didn't work as well before the beard."
"Shocking," I murmured. "I wouldn't want to have the whole traditional wedding thing on a beach."
"Why not?"
"If I'm getting married on a beach, it has to be simple. No huge dresses, no rose petals, no perfect little white folding chairs."
"Then you want to get married?" he asked.
"Maybe. I think so. If it works out." I peered at the ceremony site as it took shape. "What about you? You'd really spice up the Acevedo-Hartshorn double date circuit."
He shook his head. "I don't think so. My parents didn't sell me on the institution if you know what I mean."
"Neither did mine," I replied. "They're probably the worst possible models for a healthy marriage. They are textbook examples of people who should get divorced."
"And here you are, planning your non-traditional island wedding."
