“Then we’ll have to take a shower together,” he suggests, kissing my throat.

  When I giggle, he probably has no idea why, but it’s only because a question I had about my husband has just been answered: he does like taking showers together.

  Surely, this is how it will be, I think. Learning a little bit more about each other day by glorious day.

  I whimper as he skims his lips down my chest and his mouth takes over for his fingers.

  No more laughing.

  Just bliss.

  ***

  Because today is clear and sunny, the helicopter ride is amazing.

  Seated side by side, holding hands and wearing headphones, we have a narrated tour of Scotland from Gretna Green, over the moors and hills of Ettrick to Falkirk, up north of Pitlochry, and above the craggy lands of Cairngorms all the way to the wee airport at Inverness, where we land on the private side of the airfield, near the Highland Aviation flight school.

  After thanking our pilot, we are led to a private car that takes us to the Beach Cottage B&B on the shores of the Moray Firth. Melissa has booked the entire two-suite cottage for us, and after a warm welcome from the innkeeper and her husband, we’re handed the keys to our own private cottage. Though we have both bedrooms at our disposal, we choose to stay in the Moray Room with its Juliet balcony that overlooks the beach and firth beyond. I swing open the French doors and grasp the waist-high railing, breathing in the fresh air.

  Josh comes up behind me, caging me between him and the balcony as his hands land on the railing just outside of mine. He rests his chin on my shoulder.

  “This is amazing.”

  “I agree. Melissa should be sainted.”

  “I love that we have the whole place to ourselves,” he says, lifting my hair to kiss the side of my neck.

  “Better than a shoebox in Hell’s Kitchen?” I ask.

  “Anywhere with you is better,” he says. “But yeah. This is pretty spectacular, Mrs. Dalton.”

  I gasp softly. “Mrs. Dalton!”

  “I just wanted to try it out.” He chuckles against my neck. “You don’t have to change your name for me.”

  “I want to.” I turn in his arms to face him, reaching for his face with a smile that must be beaming. “Of course I will. Courtney Dalton. Courtney Salinger Dalton.”

  “It sounds very literary,” he says, kissing my nose.

  “Perfect for the wife of a playwright.”

  “My wife,” he says softly. “How long will it take for me to get used to that, I wonder?”

  “Take your time,” I tell him, turning back around to look at the view but leaning against my husband. “Speaking of Daltons…did you tell them yet? Your parents? Your brothers?”

  He takes a deep breath and sighs, and I’m starting to learn that this is a tell of his. It belies a heaviness. “No. You?”

  “No,” I say softly. “Aunt Lucy wanted me to call my dad, but…”

  “You didn’t know what to say.”

  “I didn’t,” I say. “I also didn’t want them to stop me.”

  His chin is back on my shoulder. “Mine are going to be hurt.”

  “Mine too,” I say, swallowing over a sudden and unexpected lump in my throat. “How about we figure it out once we get home? Don’t let’s spoil these few days?”

  “Agreed,” he says, moving his hands from the railing to clasp them around me instead. “Speaking of home…I don’t have one anymore.”

  I turn in his arms. “Move in with me.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Mind? You’re my husband. Where else would you live? With your ex-girlfriend?”

  “Sammy and I broke up a million years ago. She’s not a threat to you.”

  “Good,” I say, but I still don’t want my husband anywhere near her.

  He’s quiet for a long moment, and when I look up, his eyes are fixed on something far away, over my shoulder.

  “Are you thinking about her?”

  “No. I’m just thinking…I mean…” He shakes his head, and his eyes are troubled when he glances at me for a second. “I don’t have much to offer you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I couldn’t even afford to come here without giving up my apartment. I have very little savings. Crappy insurance. I bartend to subsidize my writing.”

  “Hey, look at me,” I say, reaching for his chin and forcing him to meet my eyes. “I didn’t ask for a millionaire. My salary and benefits are really good. We’ll be fine.”

  He winces, then drops my gaze. “My father was a good provider. He took pride in it.”

  “That’s great, but that was your parents’ marriage. Ours will be different. Whatever we make it. Whatever we want it to be. Maybe I’ll support you for a while, until one of your plays is a hit. And then you can support me later when—”

  I stop myself just in time, glad he’s not looking at me, except he chooses that moment to look up.

  “What?” he asks, with a teasing smile. “When…what?”

  “Nothing,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush red.

  “Come on. Tell me. What do you want? You want to go back to school?”

  “No.” I clear my throat. “I was going to say, maybe if we have kids someday, you can support me while I stay home with—”

  “Kids!” he exclaims, his arms falling from around me to his sides. His eyes are wide and wild as he stares at me. “Jesus, Courtney!”

  “I’m not saying I want them tomorrow!” I insist. “Or, I don’t know. I mean, I want kids someday. Don’t you want kids?”

  “I…I don’t know,” he says, staring at me wide-eyed and dragging his hands through his hair. “I—I haven’t thought a lot about them. I mean, someday. Maybe. Yeah. But not for a long time. I don’t—I don’t—”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, reaching for him. “We don’t have to talk about this—”

  “We just got married,” he says, taking a step away from me. “Like, not even twenty-four hours ago. Could we just get used to that for a little while?”

  Tears spring into my eyes, and I blink them away because I can see that I’ve completely freaked him out, and that was never my intention. I feel ridiculous and needy, pushy and absurd.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I was just…daydreaming.”

  “Could you possibly not daydream about kids yet?”

  Feeling miserable, I nod, turning away from the now spoiled view. I don’t know where to look or what to do, but when my eyes settle on my suitcase, I cross the room to snap it open and unpack. As I reach up to wipe away a rogue tear, his hands land on my shoulders. I spin in an instant, resting my cheek against his chest.

  “I’m s-sorry,” I say with a pathetic sniffle.

  His arms come around me, and I feel a wave of relief as he holds me close.

  “Courtney, Courtney, Courtney,” he says softly, almost singing my name like a lullaby. “You don’t have to move so fast.”

  “I don’t know how else to move.”

  “I need you to slow down so I can catch up.”

  “I don’t want kids yet.”

  “At least we agree on that,” he says, rubbing my back and pressing a kiss on the top of my head.

  “Are you mad at me?” I ask, the sound muffled against his shirt.

  “No,” he says. “Not mad. Just…slow down a little, okay? We’ve got a long way to go, Court. We’re just starting.”

  “I’ll try. I promise.”

  I look up at him and nod, and he smiles down at me, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. “How about a walk on the beach, Mrs. Dalton? We’ve got plenty of time before lunch.”

  “Yeah. I’d like that. Give me a minute?”

  I slip into the bathroom and splash my face with cold water, determined to concentrate on being a newlywed and living in the moment with Josh instead of focusing on a future with too many unanswered questions to count.

  CHAPTER 16

  Josh

  Four days later, our Highlands honeymoon is almost over.

  One thing about my marriage is absolutely certain: our chemistry is combustible, and we can’t seem to get enough of each other.

  We have sex everywhere; in both beds, in both sitting rooms, with Courtney braced against the balcony, on the sofas, in the shower, and even skinny-dipping one warm evening in the firth. We fall asleep naked in each other’s arms, limbs entangled, and wake up at least once during the night to fuck again before morning. She’s a vocal lover, moaning and whimpering, crying out when her orgasm hits and sighing as she falls asleep. I catalog her noises, listening for them each in turn, and feeling an insane amount of pleasure that I’m able to unravel this woman so completely, that I can make her body shatter with mine. Knowing that I can satisfy Courtney sexually makes me feel that I can at least offer her something.

  That said, every time I turn my mind to her supporting me financially, I picture my father’s face, and it makes me feel nauseous. He won’t understand, and I’m afraid I’ll lose his respect, which is no small thing. I don’t live near my parents, but I love them and have always sought their approval. Marrying Courtney so impulsively is already going to hurt and upset them; appearing like I’m sponging off of my wife will just add disgust to their disappointment.

  As Courtney and I walked on the beach last Sunday afternoon, as a means toward living in the moment and not stressing about the future, we agreed to turn off our phones until we were headed home. It’s been an amazing four days of walks and swims, laughing under the sheets, and swapping childhood tales over Scottish dinners. A perfect fantasy honeymoon.

  God, I’m not ready to leave.

  Maybe that’s why I’m up so early, standing naked by the window, watching the early morning sun rise over the firth. I wish we could hide away here in Scotland for a few more weeks, making love every night and falling harder for each other every day. I wish we could ignore the fact that our flight from Inverness to New York leaves at 1:25pm this afternoon.

  But we can’t.

  Today is Thursday, and real life is bearing down on us like a fast-moving storm. At some point, we’re going to have to turn our phones back on and face the fact that we have no idea how to build a life together.

  I turn away from the sparkling water to look at my wife, and I can’t help the possessiveness that clutches my heart, the intense tenderness that draws every cell in my body to a corresponding cell in hers.

  Yeah, today is scary.

  Tomorrow will be scary too.

  But I wouldn’t trade the gold band on my finger for a do-over.

  She’s mine, and I’m hers. Marriages built on less have survived. I have to believe ours will too.

  “Hmmm. Mmmm.”

  Did I mention that Courtney sometimes hums herself awake?

  She does.

  And I fucking love it.

  Her honey-blonde hair is fanned out over the white pillow, and the quilt on the bed has slipped just enough to reveal one rosebud nipple. It’s standing proud and pretty against her white skin, like it knows I’m watching, and I feel blood rush, hot and fast, to my cock. My balls tighten as my erection swells. I skim my fingers over my chest and reach for the stiffening flesh, stroking it lightly as I cross the room and climb onto the bed.

  My body depresses the mattress, and her eyes slowly open. As she focuses on my face, her lips tilt up in a smile.

  “You’re…up,” she says, chuckling as her glance flicks to my erection.

  “Last day,” I say, lying down on my side.

  “Shhh,” she says, rolling onto her side to face me. “Don’t say it or it might come true.”

  “No way around it, baby.”

  I dip my head and kiss her nipple, because it’s daring me to.

  “Mmmm,” she moans. “Will you still do this in New York?”

  “No,” I say, letting my breath feather softly over her sensitive skin. “I only have sex with my wife in Scotland.”

  “Then let’s move to Scotland,” she says, pulling down the quilt, then kicking it off. She slides a touch closer to me so that the tips of her breasts brush my chest.

  I wish.

  “What time is the car coming?”

  “Eleven thirty,” she says.

  “What do you want to do until then?”

  She flattens her hands on my chest and pushes me onto my back. As she kisses her way from my chest to my abdomen, I tangle my fingers in her hair, my ass and balls tightening with sweet anticipation. I groan her name as she takes the rigid length of my erection between her lips and bathes me in her mouth.

  I don’t want to think about where Courtney learned to do the things she knows how to do, but fuck, my woman knows how to give head. As wet as a warm bath, she winds her tongue around my cock, occasionally looking up at me with her innocent blue eyes. Her lips inch down, little by little, until she deep throats me, and it feels so fucking unbelievable, I clench my eyes shut and throw an arm over my head.

  “Fuuuuuck, Court.”

  “Mmmm,” she hums, working my shaft with her tongue while I pump in and out of her mouth.

  I lean up and look over her head to see my balls pressed against her cheek, and that’s when I come because the image of my beautiful, naked wife balls-deep with my cock in her mouth is pretty much the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

  I’m hard as stone even after she swallows, so she straddles my lap, guiding my slick cock into her slippery pussy. With her hands braced on my chest and my hands gripping her hips, she sets the pace and rhythm of our fucking, rocking back and forth, her perfect tits on full display and those stunning eyes locked on mine.

  It should be too intense to watch another human being as fiercely as we watch each other, joined as intimately as we are, but I can’t look away and she doesn’t.

  Maybe we’re trying to hold on to these last exquisite moments of feeling like the only two people in the whole world. Maybe we’re trying to cement this bond so that it carries over to home. Maybe we are just intensely turned on by the way we fit together and how much pleasure we can offer one another.

  Or maybe—just maybe—this is the beginning of my wife and I falling in love with each other, and it would be wrong—so fucking wrong—to miss a single moment.

  She sits up and reaches between us, sliding her middle finger over her clit, and her moans quickly turn into cries. When she’s on the brink of coming, I jackknife into a sitting position and smash my mouth into hers, pumping wildly into her body as my tongue tangles mindlessly with hers.

  We are breathless and panting, holding onto each other as tightly as we can, when I realize that she’s crying. She rests her cheek on my shoulder and her hot tears slip down my arm.

  I don’t ask her why.

  Part of me feels like crying too.

  I just close my eyes and hold on.

  ***

  “Did you want to grab some shortbread for Dina?”

  She nods, holding my arm for balance as she slips her feet back into her shoes just outside of security.

  I lean down and kiss her cheek, then lace our fingers together and steer us toward the Duty-Free store.

  “Do you want to get anything for your parents?” I ask.

  “Umm. No,” she says.

  Since we arrived at the airport, we’ve been in constant motion: checking in, checking our bags, and passing through security. For the first time, I realize she’s a little quiet, a little withdrawn. Or maybe this is just “travel” Courtney? We’ve never traveled together. I have no idea.

  I squeeze her hand and point out a display of cookies in festive red plaid boxes. “One for her and one for us?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  I drop her hand and grab two boxes.

  “Do you want anything else?” I ask. “Scotch? A bagpipe magnet? We could see if they have some haggis.”

  She gives me a half-smile. “No, thanks.”

  “Hey,” I say. “Are you okay?”

  “What if we stayed one more day?” she asks in a rush.

  “Our bags are checked.” I rest the cookies on the shelf and put my arms around her, drawing her close to me. “Only the honeymoon’s ending, baby. We’re just beginning.”

  “I know,” she says, her expression wistful. “I just wish we had more time.”

  I lean down and kiss her. “Wasn’t that the whole point? We have forever, Mrs. Dalton.”

  She’s still giving me that timid half-smile, and I wish I knew what to do to make it go away.

  Make her a gimlet and ask her about her day, says the voice in my head, which is utterly absurd and makes me a little sad, because it highlights the fact that I really don’t know how to make her feel better outside of Tidewaters.

  “We’re going to make it, aren’t we?” she whispers. “We’re going to be okay?”

  She’s searching my eyes so gravely, it makes me desperate to comfort her.

  “Yeah,” I say, holding her closer. “Of course.”

  “Okay,” she says softly. “Okay.”

  “Hey, I know. When we get home, let’s make a date to see a show. A musical.”

  Finally her smile deepens, and her voice warms up a little. “Yes! A show. What a great idea. I’d love that, Josh.”

  Something fisting inside of me loosens a touch. See that? it says, patting me on the back. You did it! You made her feel a little better.

  “You know what?” I say, letting her go and picking up the cookies to take them to the cash register. “We should turn our phones back on.”

  Her smile instantly disappears. “We should?”

  “Court,” I say, smiling at her and trying to sound confident, “we’re going home, and we’re going to be okay.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “We promised. I gave you my word, remember? To have and hold?” I remind her. “In sickness and in health. Until death.” I search her eyes, willing her to get on board this train with me. “I’m not dead yet.”