“And the upgrade to business class?” she asks.
I huff a quiet laugh. “Still points. Just … more of them.”
She studies me for a second longer than necessary.
“You’re not secretly draining an account I don’t know about?” She tries for a teasing tone. There is no malice in her question, but I still feel the insecurity, the trust I broke.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Taking out a loan?” she asks, eyebrows raising.
“No.”
“Selling one of your organs?” Now she sounds like she’s on a game show.
“Becca,” I admonish slightly, wanting her to enjoy the moment and not think about the money.
She smiles a little. “Okay, I believe you.”
But I can still see it, that part of her that’s learning how to trust this kind of thing again. I slide my hand up her leg slowly, deliberately.
“Also,” I add, voice lower now, “I’m not the only one who planned something.”
Her brow lifts. “Oh?”
“The condo we are staying at in Hawaii,” I say. “It was a gift from the Rothschilds. They said, and I quote, ‘Bernard insists that Becca go and receive some Vitamin D and relaxation.’”
Her expression shifts, touched and surprised. “They are really letting us use their condo? They love that place!”
“They do. But they love you more. You take care of so many people; let others take care of you.”
“That’s … actually really nice,” she says.
“Yeah,” I reply. “I thought if the endorsement came from Bernie, you would be more willing to accept it.”
She laughs as she leans closer, her hand resting on my chest, fingers curling into my shirt.
“I weirdly am,” she says quietly, snuggling in. Then, a little softer, “Thank you.”
It’s not just about the trip. I know that. I lean in, brushing my mouth against hers.
“The best is yet to come,” I murmur.
The condo is betterthan I expected. It’s open and bright, with windows that make you feel like the ocean stretches forever beneath you There’s literally waves crashing right below us. Everything is white and salt-worn wood, the kind of place that smells like sunscreen and ocean air even with the windows closed. But I barely register any of it. Because Becca walks in, drops her bag, and stares at the view.
“Wow, I can’t believe we’re here.” I can tell by the tone in her voice that she means more than in Hawaii.
“Me too, it was too long coming.”
I pause before continuing, “ This is the kind of life you deserve, Becca, what I want for us.”
“Sam, I don’t need a Hawaii oceanfront condo life. I just want one with you.”
“I know, you deserve a life where you are first, second, and always.”
I pull her closer to me and look in her eyes. “I am sorry I delayed our honeymoon.”
The thought still stings. Not because she's made me feel it, but because I know what it cost her,us,to let it go. She puther dream honeymoon aside when I asked her to and never mentioned it again.
