“I like that plan.”
“I hoped you would, being the planner you are.”
I nod, not trusting my voice, and let him take my hand and lead me outside. Oliver opens my car door and then climbs in next to me.
“Where are we going?” I ask. He said he wanted to surprise me for our last night, and I was supposed to wear something formal.
“You’ll see once we get there.”
“You know I hate surprises.”
Ollie laughs. “I figured since you love plans so much.”
I’ve always hated them, since I was a kid. Maybe it’s because every time I’ve been taken off guard, a tragedy happened. My mother dying, a colleague being shot, losing someone we’d been trailing and having it result in someone being hurt. It’s never been a good thing.
Now I’m forced to sit and watch the scenery without making myself crazy with wonder.
“You’re fidgeting,” Oliver points out.
“I don’t like being completely unaware of what I’m doing.”
“Are you worried I might be taking you somewhere to kill you?”
I raise a brow. “Is that a possibility?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
He grins. “On if you stop fidgeting and just trust me or not.”
I lean my head back, looking at him. “Trust isn’t something I usually give easily.”
“I’m not all that great at it either.”
He is better at it than he thinks.
“Could’ve fooled me. We had to trust everyone who knew the secret the last two weeks.”
Oliver glances at me. “Those were my siblings. I would trust them with my life.”
Which is maybe why I was able to as well. I shift again, looking out the window and spinning the wedding ring on my finger. My nerves are trifold. I have no idea where we’re going, I don’t know what I’m feeling, and I don’t know how to plan for heartache.
This is the end. The last night before we walk away from what has been the best weeks of my life. I don’t want that.
I want more.
I want it all.
I want him.
He takes my hand. “We’re almost there. I promise, I want tonight to be fun and also special.”
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Why what?”
“What does it matter if it’s special? Tonight is the end.”
We’re stopped at a red light so he turns to look at me. “The end doesn’t mean it has to be bad. We’re friends, Maren, we always will be. I like to think that, after all we’ve gone through, we can at least have a happy ending.”
Tears start to prick at the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. This isn’t a happy ending. This is horrible. This is not what I want, but it’s what he wants.
He wants freedom, and I can’t even be angry about it. It’s not like we’ve been together for months, and he changed his mind. I will not make this man suffer any more than he already has.
“We’ve both been burned.”
“Yes, we have,” Oliver says, his hands tightening around the wheel a bit.
Oliver may always act like life is fun and grand, but I know what it’s like to wear a smile when you’re dying inside.
The first girl he loved broke his heart.
Devney destroyed it.
He’s safeguarded himself against that kind of pain, and I can’t blame him for it.
I reach out, placing my hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out the way you hoped.”
“Meaning?”
I let my hand drop. “You went through with marrying me when you deserved to have that experience with the woman you loved and wanted to spend your life with. And I’m sorry that any woman has ever hurt you.”
“I’m not broken over it. Devney made the right choice.”
“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t shitty for you.”
He shrugs. “It was, but I’m fine. I have a good life, and she and I never would’ve been truly happy. Besides, I was meant to be on the market and up for sampling. Which you’re welcome for.” His voice is playful as he wiggles his brows.
I can’t help but laugh a little. “You’re right. I’m very glad I got to enjoy the goods.”
“There’s much more of that for tonight.”
I roll my eyes. In the last five days, I’ve had more sex than I have most months. It’s been fantastic, but I am not sure how much more my body can take. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to find out.
When he pulls to a stop, it only takes me a second to realize that we’re at the docks.
“You’re going to dump my body in the ocean?” I ask.
“Hell no, I’ve watched enough murder mysteries to know how to get rid of the body much more efficiently.”
“Good to know.”
Oliver helps me out of the car, looping my hand on his arm. “Come on, our dinner awaits.”
We walk down the pier and toward a yacht—or, at least, I would call it a yacht.
“Are we going on that?”
“We are.”
He helps me across the gangway and onto the boat, where there is already a gentleman waiting for us. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Parkerson.”
I turn to Oliver, who smiles. “Well, it’s kind of true.”
“Yes, I guess it is.”
“Did I say the names wrong?” the staff member asks.
“No, Michael, you didn’t. This is my wife, Maren, and we’re ready to head out if you are.”
Michael nods. “Of course. I recommend you both go down to the living quarters until we get out a little deeper. The beginning part of the ride can be a little choppy this time of year. I’ll be down shortly after to get your orders and have the chef start to prepare the meals.”
“Thank you,” Oliver says smoothly. He takes my arm, and we head to the door Michael indicated. “Watch your step.”
“Ollie, what is this?”
“A boat . . .”
I huff. “I know it’s a boat, but all this is too much.”
“It’s a wedding gift.”
“Someone gave us a boat?” I ask with excitement.
He laughs. “No one gave us a boat, but we get to spend a few hours on it.”
“Oh. Duh.”
It’s not a far stretch, we did get a house.
He takes me down the narrow steps into the living quarters. It’s a lot bigger than I expected. There is a large couch against the back wall, a television opposite of it, and two chairs on each side. The room is gorgeous and painted in beige hues with four port hole windows along the left wall. You’d never imagine this was a boat. It looks almost like an apartment.
“There’s a bathroom to the left and two bedrooms toward the front. There’s another level below which is the staff’s quarters and kitchen.”
“Oliver . . .”
“I wanted us to do something nice that wasn’t for show or for anyone else.”
“This is a wedding gift from you?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes, I called in a favor.”
I smile so wide that my cheeks hurt and then launch myself into his arms.
“You are amazing! Amazing!”
“You’ve said so.”
“I’m saying it again.” I take his cheeks in my hands and kiss him.
He leans back, a grin on his lips. “What was that for?”
“Because this is so sweet. You’re so sweet.”
Because no one has ever done something like this for me.
He shifts his weight. “If this were real—if this were . . . different, I would do so much more.”