“My freedom?”

  I nod, staring down as I drag my big toe through the grains of sand. “Trace,” I whisper, hating how hard this conversation is.

  We’ve only been together a short time, but he’s quickly become a fixture in my life. I like who I am when I’m around him.

  “I want what you want.”

  And he means those words. No one in my life has truly meant them, even though I’ve heard them before. But when it comes to Trace, I think he’d move heaven and earth to make me happy. But I don’t want that for him. I want him to get just as much out of life as I do. I don’t want to be the reason he settles for less than he deserves or wants.

  “That’s not an answer,” I mumble under my breath, trying to ignore the heat from the sun on my back.

  Trace’s hand comes forward, his fingers touching my chin. He pulls my chin upward, forcing me to stare into his eyes. “I like this. I like us. I’m not ready to walk away, but if it’s what you truly want, we’ll make it happen. You deserve some freedom and peace just as much as I do. What do you want, Ace?”

  Warmth fills my chest from his words, scorching me hotter than the sun on my back. “I want this too,” I say softly, barely audible above the crashing of the waves. “But I’m scared.”

  “Of what, love?” he asks, gazing into my eyes with his deep green eyes.

  “Of failing. What if this is a giant disaster?”

  He smiles. “Are there any guarantees with anything?”

  “No,” I groan, hating that he has a point.

  “We’ve been through a lot, Ana. Let’s get through a few weeks of calm before we make any rash decisions.”

  “None of this makes sense.” And if there was a rash decision, it was my boneheaded idea for us to get married. I panicked, and he was there. It’s as simple as that. It could’ve been anyone in his shoes, and I would’ve made the same proposal. Although I probably wouldn’t be sitting on a beach with him, hoping he’d want to see where things led.

  “Do you want to go back to Miami?”

  “No.” I hated living there. It was so crowded, and everyone knew I was Ana Kelly. It didn’t matter if it was a busboy at my favorite restaurant or every police officer in the city. I was known and tracked. But up north, where Trace lives, I’m like everybody else. The anonymity has been refreshing. I haven’t felt the need to look over my shoulder at every moment. “Can I ask you something?”

  He drops his hand away from my face, and I instantly miss the connection. “Sure.”

  “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  “I have a wife,” he says, making me blush.

  I laugh and shake my head, hating him for his quick wit and loving him for it too. “Before me.”

  “Was there a before you?”

  I stare at him, trying not to turn into a pile of mush. “What was your life like before me? I’m sure your apartment was like a halfway house for hot women with high sex drives.”

  He shakes his head and exhales. “Never at my place.”

  I jerk my head back. “What? Why?”

  “I’m weird. My place was for me and only me.” He pauses and tilts his head a little. “Now, it’s for us—but never them.”

  “Then when? How?”

  “Wherever, whenever.”

  “That’s so strange,” I tell him, wondering how many intricate layers there are to him and if I’ll ever be able to peel them all back.

  “I always had rules.”

  I shift in my seat to unstick my butt cheek from the plastic lounge chair, wanting to hear all his pearls of single-man wisdom. “Hit me with them.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nod. “I like to hear the way you think.”

  He starts talking, and I use the time to stare at the beautiful lines on his body. “Well, I never made a commitment.”

  I furrow my brows. “But you want to stay married?”

  He laughs. “Yeah.”

  “You’re a walking conundrum.”

  “Never said I made sense.”

  “Keep going,” I demand.

  “Never sleep over.”

  “Shocking.”

  “I have the superior bed,” he tells me. “And if I slept at their place, they would immediately think there was going to be more, which there never would’ve been. Remember, commitment.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “You have a system.”

  “Always.”

  “Ma’am,” a hotel worker says, holding a tray full of fruity drinks with little umbrellas hanging off the sides.

  I take a glass, loving the taste way too much. “Thank you.”

  “Sir,” he says, holding the tray out to Trace.

  To my surprise, Trace takes one. All week, he’s stayed far away from the colorful drinks, opting for more traditional liquor or beer. “Thank you,” Trace says to the man before taking a sip. His face immediately sours. “Jesus. How do you drink this shit?”

  “It goes down easy.”

  “The hangover has to be horrendous.”

  “I know my limit.”

  He smiles as he mixes the drink, but he stares at me. “You’re pretty controlled.”

  “You learn to be when you have a father like mine.”

  “Why weren’t you in a relationship?” he asks me.

  “The only men who wanted to get involved with me were more interested in getting closer to my father than me.” I frown, remembering the long string of men who tried to weasel their way into my life. “I was sick of the disappointment.”

  Trace nods, stabbing at the blue liquid with his straw. “Sometimes it’s easier to be alone than let down.”

  “Or used.”

  “Or used,” he repeats before taking another sip and wincing. “I can’t. I tried, but I can’t.”

  I take the glass from his hands. “I’ll finish this for you.”

  Trace smiles. “Are we doing room service again tonight?”

  He’s been so patient with me. I haven’t wanted to go to the swanky steakhouse even though he’s mentioned it more than a few times. I haven’t felt up to it or ready. I’ve barely had the energy to make it down to the beach each day and back to the room. Getting dressed up and sitting among other people has been out of the question.

  “No. I want a good steak,” I tell him, hoping he’ll be happy.

  He dips his chin as his eyebrows draw together. “You sure?”

  “You’ve sat in the room enough with me every night. I think we should have one nice meal together before we have to head back to reality.”

  “Really?” he asks again. “I don’t want to pressure you or make you feel like you have to do it.”

  “I want to go. I think it’s the best thing for us. Paradise doesn’t happen very often.”

  He pops off the chair and grabs my face, kissing me square on the lips. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, Ace.”

  My belly knots and my heart leaps at the feel of his lips on mine. “Ditto, Clutch.”

  “Clutch?” He raises an eyebrow, his face still so close I can feel his warm breath across my skin.

  “Why do you call me Ace?”

  “My cousins made me watch Gilmore Girls at my grandparents every Sunday when we were younger, and I liked it when that guy called that girl it.”

  “Logan and Rory.”

  Oh my God. I don’t know why, but I find the fact that he watched Gilmore Girls close enough to remember the name Ace is absolutely adorable. It stuck with him even if the names of the characters didn’t. I mean, Rory man-hopped a lot, and the girl was filled with drama, but in the end, Logan wasn’t half bad on the douche scale, compared to the other guys.

  “Yeah. Them. Now, why did you call me Clutch?”

  “Baseball term.” I raise a shoulder, “And you’ve been there when no one else was.”

  “Baby,” he whispers, drawing out the word.

  No man has ever called me baby. No man has treated me like I’m something precious. I’m always a tool or a means to an end. And I like the way Trace treats me. I like it way too much, and if this ends…

  I push the thought out of my head. “I need a shower before dinner.”

  He looks at his phone, checking the time. “I’ll make reservations for seven. Good?”

  “Perfect.”

  “You have three hours to get ready. I hope that’s enough.”

  I chuckle. “It’s plenty.”

  “You say that now…”

  “I need an hour, tops.”

  He pitches his thumb over his shoulder toward the building. “I’ll shower first and then come back for you.”

  I place the drink in the sand next to my chair. “I’ll come up in a little bit. No need to come back for me. I can make it on my own.”

  He touches his chest, standing over me and blocking out the sun. “I want to come back for you.”

  “Okay,” I relent, loving that he’s a gentleman. “I’ll wait here until you come and get me.”

  “One hour,” he says with a dip of his chin. “Not more than that.”

  “Sure,” I drawl. “I’ve seen you get ready. You’re worse than a woman.”

  He bends over again, brushing his lips against my forehead. “I have to look and smell good for my wife.” He pulls back, winking at me.

  If I weren’t lying down already, I could’ve very well passed out. The man does things to me. He makes my heart bob and weave, beating stronger and harder than anyone or anything ever has before.

  But am I setting myself up for failure? Maybe we’ll get back to the mainland and he’ll change his mind, realizing he wants his freedom more than the commitment that was forced on him.

  I have to brace myself for the possibility.

  I will not fall in love.

  I will not fall in love.

  I will not fall in love.

  I keep saying the words as I watch him walk toward the hotel, his back muscles undulating under his skin with each confident stride.

  Fuck.

  I think I’ve already fallen.

  16

  TRACE

  “When are you getting back?” my mom asks on speakerphone as I dry myself after my shower.

  “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  “How is Ana?”

  I stare in the mirror, making sure I didn’t miss a spot shaving. “She’s doing a little better every day.”

  “It takes time.”

  “I figured as much. We’re going to dinner tonight instead of room service, so that’s a step in the right direction.”

  “Don’t push her.”

  “It was her idea,” I explain, getting closer to the mirror. I turn my head, checking all sides.

  “Good, baby. I’m really proud of how you’ve handled this. Have you talked about what to do next?”

  I grip the edge of the bathroom counter and hang my head, letting all the tension slide downward. “We’re going to keep things as they are.”

  “Trace.”

  I know the tone. She’s judging me. Worrying about me like she has since the day I was born. I haven’t always had my head on straight, but for the first time, I feel like I’m thinking clearly.

  “I really like her, Ma. She’s easy to be around, and I never say that about anyone. I feel at peace, and I have no idea why.”

  “Interesting,” she murmurs.

  “What’s interesting?” my dad asks in the background.

  “Your son,” she tells him.

  Dad laughs. “That’s one way to describe him. He definitely isn’t boring.”

  “They’re staying married,” she explains.

  “What?” he whispers.

  “Yep. They’re going to try it out like it’s a shoe they can break in.” I don’t have to be there to know she’s rolling her eyes.

  “Well…” There’s a long pause from my father. He’s a man of few words at times, especially when he’s exasperated with me, which is often. “I got nothing, babe. I’m dumbfounded.”

  “Your son, who doesn’t like commitment and jumps from woman to woman like it’s an Olympic sport, is going to stay married to a woman he’s known for less than two weeks.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” he says to her.

  “Name one. I’ll wait.”

  I grab my dress pants out of the closet, leaving my parents on speakerphone to debate my life choices. It’s not a new conversation, but instead of arguing about my inability to maintain a long-term relationship, they’re arguing about my unwillingness to get divorced.

  I slide my legs into the pants before lifting them to my waist. “You two done?” I ask.

  “Not by a long shot, buddy,” Mom chirps.

  “We may still end up divorced, but so much has happened in the last couple of weeks, we just want some quiet time to think about what the right thing to do is.”

  “When isn’t your life a whirlwind of excitement?”

  “Ma.”

  “Trace Caldo, don’t lead this girl on if you aren’t honestly willing to commit to her.”

  “Ma,” I gasp, shocked that she’d think I’d do anything to harm Ana. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

  “Maybe not on purpose, but if you don’t love her and aren’t willing to put aside your ways, you’re going to end up crushing that poor girl.”

  I hold back a bitter laugh. If anyone is going to get crushed, it will be me. I’ve never allowed anyone around me long enough to develop any type of feelings until her, and if I’m not careful, I’ll be the one left broken in her wake. “I care for Ana.”

  “I care for our dry cleaner too, but that doesn’t mean I won’t go to a different one who does a better job.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and groan. “I can’t believe you compared my marriage to dirty clothes.”

  “Isabella,” my father snaps. “Leave the man alone. He’s old enough to figure out his own shit.”

  “Does he always make solid decisions?”

  “Do you think people thought you made a solid decision the night you got drunk and ended up in my bed? Because I’m pretty sure you weren’t thinking clearly, but here we are.”

  “Shush it,” she tells him. “We’re different.”

  “We are not. We jumped without thinking. He took a different route, but he leaped first out of necessity, and now he’s realizing he likes the view.”

  I glance at the clock on my phone. “I have to go,” I tell them. “I have to get Ana from the beach so she can get ready. We have reservations in a few hours.”

  “Will you be there for dinner on Sunday?” Mom asks.

  “We’ll be there,” I tell her.

  “You know everyone was at the hospital.”

  “I heard, Ma. That wasn’t necessary but appreciated.”

  “They have a lot of questions. I hope you’re ready to field them.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “Okay,” she sings. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks, Ma.”

  “See you in a few days. We love you.”

  “I love you guys too, and Ma…”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I’m falling for Ana, and I need you to understand that I’m not playing games with her. This is serious to me.”

  “As relationships and marriage should be.”

  “Be patient and give us time to figure things out, but there’s something between us I’ve never felt before. I’m not willing to let it go.”

  “Then hold on tight, baby. Follow that big, beautiful heart of yours, and don’t let your head get in the way.”

  “See you two soon.”

  “Bye, love,” she says before hanging up.

  I finish dressing and grab my room key, ready to get Ana so we can make it on time for dinner. I’m not sure how long she needs to get ready, but if she’s anything like my mother or cousins, she’ll need every minute of the next hour. But she doesn’t truly need it. She’s a natural beauty, and if she never wore a lick of makeup or wasted time on primping, I’d still be a happy man.

  When I leave the room, I give a courtesy nod to every other resort guest I pass by on the way to the beach. It’s always awkward, but I try to be cordial even when it’s uncomfortable.

  As the damp ocean air hits my skin, I instantly regret my choice of attire. Long sleeves and humidity do not mix. Little beads of sweat dot my hairline, and I pray I can get Ana and make it back inside before they wipe away the remnants of my shower.

  Ana’s exactly where I left her, but she’s not facing the sun any longer. She’s on her side, curled in a ball.

  “Ace?” I whisper, trying not to scare her. “You okay?”

  She covers her face with her hands, curling deeper into herself. “I’m okay,” she mutters into her palms.

  I sit on the chaise lounge next to her, staring at her sun-kissed skin. “You don’t look it, Ana.”

  She sniffles. “I’ll be okay.”

  Reaching over, I brush the tiny wet hairs away from her cheeks. “What can I do?” I ask, hating that I feel completely helpless in this situation. I’m flying blind, taking shit one moment at a time.

  “Nothing.” She doesn’t look at me or unfurl her body. She doesn’t move at all. “I just need a minute to get myself together, and then I’ll get ready for dinner.”

  Dinner is the last thing on my mind. Ana’s hurting. She’s dealing with more than I could ever imagine, and she hasn’t let me in to fully comprehend the depths of her sorrow. Even if she had, I don’t think I could still come to grips with everything and know how to process all the feelings that come along with it.

  I lean over, scooping Ana into my arms.

  “Trace, no,” she says, but her voice is faint and weak.

  “Shh, baby. I just want to sit with you for a minute.” Sitting next to her is doing nothing for either of us. I know when bad things happen to me, nothing is more comforting than the embrace of someone else, usually my mother.

  I settle Ana in my lap as I relax back into the lounge chair. Ignoring the way my body’s overheating as the sun starts to set far on the horizon, I hold her tighter against me. She places her face against my shoulder and melts into me. My shirt gets wetter, but not from the heat. Her tears stain the cloth as her body shakes in my arms. “I wish my mom were here,” she whispers against the skin of my neck.