“Good morning,” a man’s voice called, making Gabby practically jump out of her chair.
She spun around to see a man in a tuxedo shirt with the sleeves ripped off like he was halfway through a striptease.
“Did you ring?” the man asked.
“Ring?” Gabby asked.
“I’m your butler, Geeves. You must have pressed the call button by accident.”
“Oh, yeah, I was looking for the light switch. Oops.” At home, she’d turned on the garbage disposal when she hit the wrong switch. Here she called the help. Inner-G was weird in ways she just hadn’t expected.
“Are you ready for breakfast?” he asked. “I assumed that’s what you were calling about.”
“Of course, thank you,” Gabby said.
After setting the table with cut fruit, G-shots, and some fresh coffee, Geeves presented them each with a conch shell.
Gabby turned it over in her hands. “This is… pretty.”
“Yes, but at Inner-G, we start each morning with a purge of secrets. I’ll walk you through it the first time.”
Gabby’s ears pricked at the words “purge” and “secrets.”
“First of all, hold the conch to your ear,” Geeves said.
Gabby did as instructed and listened to the rushing noise of the sea.
Markus was playing along next to her.
“Close your eyes, let the sea whisper its secrets to you. When you have heard your fill, return the favor. Tell the shell your deepest thoughts, fears, and, most of all, the things you can’t tell anyone else.”
“It’s kind of like journaling, huh?” Gabby said, as if talking to a seashell was normal.
“Yes. Start each morning with meditation and a purge. If you want to grow as an individual and a couple, you must do this.”
After purging a few innocuous “secrets,” Markus scanned the conch with a countersurveillance wand, and it lit up like the Fourth of July. He disappeared into the cottage to secure the conches somewhere where they wouldn’t pick up voices. When he returned, he said, “Does anyone fall for that?”
“Hopefully, Sheridan hasn’t,” Gabby said.
“Well, we have a gold mine for our report already, and we haven’t even finished our coffee,” Markus said.
“They can just bring all their tricks right to us,” Gabby said. She glanced at the itinerary again. “We have a busy day ahead, Markus. I’m going to get ready.”
Gabby flipped through the outfits the EOD beauty brigade had packed for her. The attire was a mix of athleisure and cottage-core dresses made from natural fibers and dyes that wouldn’t hurt the bees, just her bank balance.
Because of the yoga, she went with athleisure. The EOD agreed with influencers. This week, a bra was a shirt.
When she emerged, she wore her sports bra that had her girls spilling over the top and a pair of yoga pants that outlined her ass with an intentional wedgie and ruching over each butt cheek. These were her “v is for vagina” pants that were all over Instagram, pants she would never be caught dead in normally.
For God and country, she could do it, but she didn’t look like a mom.
When she stepped out of the bedroom, Markus’s eyes focused on her even as he continued walking across the open-plan living room. The man tripped over a chair.
“I know.” She shook her head. “I feel naked and…”
Markus took in her appearance and drew in a breath. “You’re not going out in those pants, are you?”
She stared back. Was he into them? It looked like he was into them.
