All I’d done was take a few days as a breather. That wasn’t too bad, was it? I could work with that.
The wedding wasn’toff, despite what the headlines said. That was a ridiculous misunderstanding of the situation. It had just been delayed. I could get the cathedral again. I could get the trip to Ireland rebooked.
Birdie loved me. She’d understand.
But this reasoning didn’t sit well with me that night.
What was Birdie thinking right now? Was she sad? What if she did believe those headlines?
I wished I had some goddamn service. Just to send her a message assuring her I wasn’t angry, that of course I loved her madly and I’d see her soon.
And the situation sat even less well with me the second night. And by the third night I was barely sleeping, pacing the yacht from end to end.
What the hell had I been thinking, to pause the wedding for even one damn minute?
I compiled a list of all the things I’d need to do to make it up to Birdie.
On day four we were sitting on the deck, Phee glaring daggers at me and Hieronymus chain-smoking with anxiety when suddenly,
“Ooh, looky, I have some service!” Paige yelped.
“Give me that!” I barked, knocking over the chairs in my haste to get to her.
“Daddy, you’re worried about Birdie, but look, she’s clearly doing fine.”
She flipped the phone around in my face, and it was some Tiktok Birdie had posted. She appeared to be out dancing at a club somewhere, which was surprising as she didn’t usually go for things like that, dressed in a tight little crop top and jeans, turning so you could see that phenomenal waist-hip ratio she had and rolling her hips in a very sensual manner, each plump ass cheek seeming to move individually in a hypnotic wave.
“Give me that!”
I grabbed the phone to put in Birdie’s number so I could text her, and a mysterious number of things happened at once, causing Paige to shriek out in horror.
“Daddy, you’ve put Birdie twerking onmy own story! Nooo!”
Ignoring her, I flicked Tiktok away, anxious to text Birdie and find out exactly why she was at a club and if she was doing fine, when—the bars suddenly disappeared.
“Fuck!”
I turned and headed to the boat’s control panel.
On day five, I managed to shut off the automated trip route, and turn the yacht around manually.
By day six we were headed back, my family pissing me the hell off every step of the way, and me pushing the yacht to the absolute max as I streamed back to land.
Birdie’s little Tiktok video played over and over in my head because I didn’t have anything else to think about.
That little move she had done with her hips—I’d never seen that before, the way she ran her hand through her curls, the way her face had that saucy little pout.
Of course, she was just playing around, but if she was going to a club without my supervision, other men might presume to think they had a chance with my fiancée and that was a rather irritating thought.
The moment we docked, I turned my phone back on, expecting to see a bunch of pissed-off messages calling me a bastard from Birdie.
But there was nothing.
Not one message.
She was fiery and passionate, and usually she hadnoproblem telling me what was on her mind, so she must be giving me the silent treatment.
I didn’t play those games, though, so I texted her.
