‘They’ve probably gone to book a boat or something. Sean’s been dying to try his hand at big-game fishing but there was no way I was getting involved…’ Crysse checked her watch. ‘I expect they’re down in the bar right now, waiting for us to join them.’
‘Sounds good to me. And you can tell me exactly what’s happening. When are Aunt Grace and Uncle Jack arriving?’
‘On Friday… Look, there’s the wedding gazebo… Isn’t it romantic… Everything fixed?’ she broke off to ask Sean as they joined the two men beneath the thatched canopy of the poolside bar.
He grinned, kissed her cheek, whispered something so that Crysse giggled.
Willow exchanged a glance with Mike, then walked away to lean over the balustrade, looking out to sea. ‘Tired?’ Mike asked, joining her.
‘A bit.’ A lot. She’d attempted to sleep on the plane, more to avoid conversation, avoid Mike’s questions about the new job, avoid thinking, than because she was tired. But now it was all catching up with her.
‘Try and keep going, have a little something to eat. It’ll help you with the time difference.’
‘I know that,’ she snapped.
‘On the other hand,’ he said slowly, ‘maybe you’d be happier on your own.’
‘No…yes… Maybe. I’m sorry, Mike. It’s been a long day.’
He reached up, pushed his fingers through her hair, held it back and kissed her forehead. ‘Don’t apologise. I’ll come and get you at dawn for a swim.’
‘That sounds good.’ She stood there with him for a moment, not wanting to leave him, wanting him to come with her. She didn’t suggest it—a girl could only take so much rejection. He’d picked a fine moment to be high-minded about living together. She needed him so much, but how could she possibly say she’d marry him now? ‘It’s probably the only chance I’ll get,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘Crysse wants me to help her choose her dress tomorrow.’
‘That’ll be fun.’
‘Of course it will.’ She’d make sure nothing spoiled Crysse’s big day. ‘And you can enjoy your men’s day out fishing.’
‘Fishing?’
‘Isn’t that what you and Sean have planned for tomorrow? Just make sure he doesn’t fall overboard, hmm?’
‘I think I can manage that.’ He kissed her again and then let her go. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’ Then, as she turned to go, he asked, ‘Have you called your mother, let her know you’ve arrived safely? I’ve still got your phone.’ Their cellphones had had to go through the X-ray equipment at the airport security check and he’d picked them both up, stowed them in his hand luggage. ‘I’ll come and get it for you if you like.’
And leave her at the bedroom door? ‘No need. I called her on the room phone when I arrived.’
Maybe it was the fact that it was days since she’d slept in a bed, maybe her mind just took pity on her and shut down, but she was gone the instant her head hit the pillow.
She woke to a knock, the suffused light of pre-dawn turning the ceiling gold, and for a moment she was happy. Then the knock came again. And memory disillusioned her.
‘Willow? Are you awake?’ She lay there for a moment, thinking about swimming with Mike, their bodies close, touching, wondering if she could bear it.
If she didn’t answer, he’d go away. Maybe that would be best.
Mike waited for a moment, his fist laid against the locked door. If Willow was asleep he didn’t want to disturb her. But something told him that she was lying there, wide awake and miserable; that he’d messed up again.
Until now, he’d never doubted that she loved him. Even though she hadn’t made it to the church, it had never been about that. He’d thought keeping his distance was the answer, that once she’d seen Crysse, her enthusiasm for marriage would be rekindled.
Maybe he was kidding himself. Yesterday, on the plane, it had been obvious that she didn’t want to talk about her job. He’d thought she was just trying to sort it all out in her mind. Maybe she was. Perhaps the realisation of just how big it was going to be, how her career was going to take off, had given her pause for thought.
Was she just waiting until Crysse and Sean were safely married to tell him that they had no future?
He lifted his hand from the door and left her to sleep. Maybe it was time he did some thinking of his own, stopped playing games and told her that she was more important to him than anything else in the entire world. That whatever she wanted was okay by him. Just as long as she wanted him.
‘She really doesn’t know?’
They’d spent the entire morning sorting out paperwork with local officials. Sean had already done it once so he knew exactly where to go. Now they were ready for a drink. Mike ordered, then answered the question.
‘No. And don’t tell Crysse for heaven’s sake. I’m beginning to think this was a serious mistake. If it all goes pear-shaped, I’d rather Willow never knew.’
‘Don’t you think she might put two and two together when her parents arrive, when your parents arrive?’
‘They’re staying at a different hotel.’
‘I’ve been to a surprise party before, but a surprise wedding sounds very risky. When exactly are you planning on telling the bride that this is going to be a double wedding?’
He’d thought it would be easy once they were in paradise. He was beginning to realise that it might take more than sunshine and a few palm trees to work the magic. ‘I thought I’d wait until the jet lag wore off before I broached the subject,’ he said.
‘In other words, mind my own business.’
Mike shook his head. ‘You’re giving up a chunk of your holiday to help me sort out the paperwork—that makes it your business. And right now I’d welcome any suggestions from a man who seems to have got it right.’
‘I had a moonlit beach and the sure and certain knowledge that Crysse was going to say yes.’
‘Lucky man.’
‘Yes, I am. And so will you be. Go for it. Everything is done.’ He paused. ‘Except the trip to the fish market. We need some large and fiercesome specimen with which to convince the ladies that we fished until we dropped.’
‘Do we? Couldn’t we just say we threw them back?’
Sean grinned. ‘I know fishermen are supposed to tell tall tales, Mike, but whoever’d believe a story like that?’
‘Maybe you’ve got a point—’ His phone began to ring. ‘That’ll be Willow’s father with details of their flight,’ he said, taking out the phone, flipping it open.
He’d pressed receive before he realised that it wasn’t his phone. That he’d picked up Willow’s phone by mistake. A man’s voice was saying, ‘Hullo? Willow?’ A voice he recognised.
‘No, Jake,’ he said grimly, ‘this is Mike Armstrong. Would you mind telling me—?’
‘Mike! Great. Look, will you tell Willow that everything is sorted? I’ve taken Aunt Lucy to stay with a friend for a couple of weeks. Panic over.’
Panic? What panic? ‘What panic, Jake?’
‘She didn’t tell you?’
‘We’ve been busy. Why don’t you tell me exactly what panic is over?’ he invited. ‘And just