It shuts all of us up. Especially me.
I never told Kelsey about the prince, or the embassy dinner. Nor, come to think of it, did I ever mention Istanbul or Dubai. I’ve never posted about them either.
But Thomas did.
Huh.
16
EASTON
“We’re leaving in thirty minutes,” Elijah barks when I stumble into the kitchen the next morning, “so get your suit on.”
This feels...deeply unfair. Was it crazy to expect a little more downtime during this unscheduled layover in Key West?
“Leaving for where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises,” I grumble.
“That’s because most of the surprises you’ve gotten in your life have sucked.”
This is very possible. Growing up, the words “it’s a surprise” meant people had forgotten. No birthday cake or gifts? “It’s a surprise,” my mother would say, and then a day later I’d get some used perfume wrapped in newspaper or a vague promise made about a trip to Disney or New York City that never materialized. Or there was the thirteenth birthday when my mother “surprised” me by trying to make me blonde like her. We wound up in a screaming fight in front of a hair salon one town over before she drove off and left me to walk home alone.
So yeah, most of the surprises I’ve experienced in my life were underwhelming, but I have no reason to think that Elijah’s surprise won’t be underwhelming too.
“You say that as ifyoursurprises aren’t particularly unpleasant.”
“When have I ever unpleasantly surprised you?”
“You really want me to answer that?” I ask with a brow raised.
“Never mind,” he says. “Just be ready to go.”
Thirty minuteslater I’m back in the kitchen with a bikini on under my clothes and a beach bag over my shoulder. He slides me a thermos full of coffee and grabs the one he made for himself, and I follow him to the car. In the GPS, he plugs in the directions for the airport. I don’t have my luggage, but I’d gladly jump on a flight out of here anyway. Mrs. Cabot’s hatred of me is too over-the-top to be taken seriously—it would be like getting your feelings hurt when Cruella de Vil screams at you for not giving her your puppies—but that doesn’t mean I want to listen to it, either.
“Why are we going to the airport?” I demand. “If the surprise is that you’re letting me fly ahead to the wedding, I’ll take back everything I said about expecting little of you.”
“If you keep being such a pain in the ass about the surprise, I’m going to wish that Iwasflying you ahead to the wedding, but no, that is not the surprise.”
“Keep-being-pain-in-the-ass,” I say aloud, pretending to type it in my phone. Laughter rumbles in his chest and I can’t help but grin, victorious.
Fifteen minutes later we arrive and pull over to a little shack. Beside it sit several tiny, retro planes, each set atop what look like blown-up water skis.
“They’re seaplanes,” Elijah says. “We’re going out to the Dry Tortugas, about seventy miles away.”
I fight a smile. “This isn’t as unpleasant as I expected.”
“I still might invite my grandma,” he says. “So don’t give me too much credit yet.”
I follow him inside a small building where he goes up to the counter and has a chat with the guy behind it.
A minute later, one of the employees walks out, carrying several bags. “You guys ready?” he asks. “You’re gonna love this. I’ve got snorkel gear for both of you and a cooler of drinks.”
I groan quietly. I can’t snorkel without fucking up my hair and I already know I’m going to crave diving into the water so much that I’ll be sick with the way I want it.
“How much was this?” I whisper to Elijah as we follow the pilot across the tarmac.
