The crepes arrive with berries and mascarpone. Wendy takes a bite, and the sound she makes goes straight to my cock. I lift a brow, and she smirks.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” she whispers.
“Ahh. Not true.”
Her cheeks heat, and then she giggles. “You’re so wrong for that.”
“Or am I right?”
The bacon is thick and peppered, and the eggs have something in them I can’t identify but want in every meal, going forward. Wendy eats like someone who respects food and doesn’t pretend otherwise, and it’s one of the hundred things I love about her that I haven’t said out loud.
After Chef Armand packs up and leaves, we sit on the deck with our legs stretched out and our coffees going cold. Her feet are in my lap, and I run my thumb along her ankle. The sea turtle from last night surfaces near the pier, breathes, and disappears.
“We should head back,” she says.
“We should.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Me neither.”
She wiggles her toes against my thigh. “Five more minutes.”
We stay for an hour.
The helicopter ride back is better. Wendy holds my hand but keeps her focus out the window.
Coconut Beach grows larger as we approach. This island changed everything for me in a short amount of time. I haven’t felt this light in years. Maybe ever.
Tomorrow, the real world will come crashing back in full force. But the rest of today belongs to Coconut Beach and Wendy.
We land, and I drive us back to the B&B. Wendy changes, and I go to the Captain’s Room, standing in the doorway for a minute. I take in the king-size bed with the headboard made from reclaimed wood. The faded coastal-blue walls healed me.
I check the time and take a shower before going downstairs. Wendy’s at the desk, replying to emails with her hair still damp. She looks up at me and smiles. I smile back, seeing how fucking happy she is.
“Josie’s throwing a bonfire party tonight, and everyone’s going to be there. Shoes are optional.”
“Great. Shall we go to the liquor store?”
She chuckles. “Not needed. Josie has it covered, trust me.”
Wendy closes the laptop and puts the sign on the counter.
We spend the rest of the afternoon on the porch. I read my thriller while she paints her toenails hot pink. One foot is propped up on the railing, and she’s in full concentration mode. Rose brings us sandwiches wrapped in napkins. At some point, we even take a nap.
At around seven, we walk to the beach, holding hands.
The fire is blazing, and there are several foldable tables with bottles lined up. Music plays from a speaker on a cooler. The boardwalk stretches out past us. The new planks are gold against the older wood. It feels like the whole island is here.
Josie spots us and ends her conversation, moving toward us, grinning. “Turtle Island. Details. Go.”
“How did you know?” Wendy asks, glancing at me.
I shake my head. “How did you know?”
She shrugs. “I have my ways. So, know that if my sister ever goes missing, I’m going to track you down and?—”
“Okay, Dyson doesn’t need the threats. He knows he’d never get away with it.”
