Perfectly Wedded (Perfect Crush #1)

15. Sloan

FIFTEEN

Sloan

“ Y ou ready for this?” Vale asks when I finally get my seat belt buckled in the airplane. The last week has been a blur, like a video clip sped up to triple speed.

Since then, we’ve added me to Vale’s insurance and received the prescription drug shipped overnight delivery in time for our trip. It’s been such a rush getting everything done that I can hardly believe we’re headed to Cancun as husband and wife.

Well, sort of.

By law, we’re married. But in our hearts, we’re anything but on the same page.

I crack open a book and lean my head against the comfy first-class seat. “Now that we’re on the plane, we can finally relax,” I say with a sigh. “We don’t even have to pretend we’re married.”

“Yeah,” Vale says, not sounding as excited as I’d expected.

“What?” I ask, glancing at him. “I thought you’d be ecstatic about that.”

“Yeah, no more pretending we’re the perfect happily wedded couple,” he says, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“I don’t get it. I thought this would be a relief to you.”

“Who said I don’t enjoy being with you?” he asks, putting on his headphones .

“Even when you’re sleeping on the floor?” I raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “I saw you limping around this morning—your back’s practically screaming at you. You can take the bed in the hotel room. My honeymoon gift to you. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

He shakes his head. “No wife of mine will do that.”

There’s a soft flutter inside my chest. How much longer until I grow tired of Vale calling me his wife? Probably never.

I pull off his headphones so I can have his full attention. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me your wife?”

He glances up from his phone. “You are, aren’t you?”

“You know what I mean. That’s for when we’re around people,” I say.

He waves his hands at the passengers in first class. “These aren’t people ?”

“You know what I mean,” I say, turning back to my book. “You can call me Sloan. Just Sloan. Not my wife. ”

“What if I like calling you my wife?” He smirks and my heart tumbles, free-falling like a tiny pebble off the edge of the Grand Canyon.

There’s something about the way he says it and then grins that makes my pulse hammer. It’s dangerous how much I love it. Every time he looks at me like that, I have to fight the urge to climb into his lap, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him just like a proper wife would.

I quickly avert my eyes, changing the subject so he doesn’t see the heat splotches making their way up my neck. “What do you want to do when we arrive in Cancun?”

He flips to the notes app on his phone, then turns his screen around to show me. “I made a list of fun things we could try.”

The list is called, “Things to do in Cancun with my wife.” Already, I have a love/hate relationship with this list .

Snorkeling

Jet Skiing

Parasailing

Zip-lining

Scuba diving

Boating

Deep-sea fishing

Putting lotion on Sloan’s back

“One of these is not like the other,” I say with a laugh. “Nor as challenging.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “As your husband, I will not let you burn, and that is a challenge to me. Since no one can reach that spot in the middle of their back, I volunteer as tribute.”

The thought of Vale stroking my back, rubbing me down with lotion, makes me feel like my face is melting off. He’s offering me the chance to enact the fantasy of every woman in America right now.

I clear my throat, trying to rein in my thoughts, which are running wild like a toddler in a candy store. “I’m warning you, I burn like butter on a hot skillet.”

“Challenge accepted,” he says, his gaze loosening the last of my defenses. “And I like butter. On everything.”

Holy moly, I’ve got to stop thinking about how much I like butter.

I turn back to his list, avoiding his heated gaze, even though it tips my heart over like a spilled glass. “You, um, actually think I could deep-sea fish or scuba dive?”

“I could teach you,” he says. “It would be my pleasure to.”

I set my book in my lap. “Vale, I wasn’t expecting you’d want to do things with me.”

“Why not?” He frowns. “I’m not going to Cancun to be alone, Sloan.”

I sigh. “I just don’t want you to feel obligated to hang out with me. I’m not exactly a daredevil. I’m more of a sit-by-the- pool-with-a-book-and-pink-lemonade kind of girl. If you stick with me, I’ll probably just end up holding you back from all the fun.”

“You would never hold me back,” he scoffs. “And I want to have fun with you. You’re my wife.”

There he goes again, calling me his wife! I glance at my book, pretending to read, hiding the way his words barrel though me. He makes me feel like someone he actually wants to be with, not just someone he’s stuck with on this honeymoon. But no matter how sweet or charming he is, I cannot let myself fall for my best friend. Because that will only make it harder when we end our marriage.

“Uh, Sloan? Is your book good?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumble, refusing to meet his woodsy eyes that I know will only make things worse.

Without warning, he takes the book from my hands.

“Hey!” I protest, reaching for it.

He flips it around, smirking. “You can’t read if it’s upside down.”

I blink. “Oh... right,” I say, fighting the flush creeping up my neck. “Well, you don’t have to entertain me, Vale. I have a book.”

“You won’t get much reading done if you don’t know which way is up.” He lifts an eyebrow.

I shoot him a pointed look. “Listen. This trip might not be all rosy. What if the medicine doesn’t work? I don’t expect you to babysit me because I’m down with a migraine, like you did in Vegas.” I think back to our first night together, waking to Vale’s arm locked around me, and the swirl of emotions when I thought something more had happened.

“Okay, then how about a compromise? If you’re feeling well, you’ll go on one adventure per day with me. We won’t do anything too hard or scary, but you’ll let me pick the date.”

“Date... like a real date? Wait, did Jaz set you up with this idea?”

He scoffs, pretending to be insulted. “I’m hurt you’d think I couldn’t come up with this all on my own, without your sister’s help.”

“You know Jaz. She loves to help.” I lean my head back. “She’s basically planning my entire wedding while I’m gone.” After years of bossing everyone around, she’s used to pulling off last-minute events with seventeen color-coded checklists. I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. As sisters, we couldn’t be more different. “Before I left, she wrote me a note with advice...” I immediately stop, but not before Vale notices my abrupt halt.

His face turns to mine. “What kind of advice? Like a list of activities?”

“No.” I shake my head quickly, hoping he’ll let it go. “It wasn’t important.” I fold my book into my chest, hiding my evidence. Only two seconds ago, I remembered the note is inside my book, holding my page. It was the only way Jaz could get me to take it.

“It sounds important,” he says, studying my unconvincing poker face.

“Definitely not. Where is our flight attendant?” I glance up and down the aisle. “I could really use a drink about now.” Or a hole in the floor to jump out of. Even an emergency landing would be better than Vale discovering Jaz’s honeymoon advice.

“Your sister loves her to-do lists,” he says. “Even the to-do lists she creates after she’s done something just so she can cross it off. Knowing Jaz, I’m sure it was full of all kinds of important tasks for your honeymoon.”

We both know that Jaz would never give me that kind of list for a vacation. She might have an unhealthy attachment to her color-coded lists, but she’s also intuitive enough to know when they’re not needed.

I search the front of the plane for the flight attendant, who seems to be hiding. “It was a girls-only list. Private stuff. Not meant for husbands.”

“Intriguing,” he says with that unfairly persuasive smirk that instantly disarms me. “I’d love to know what kind of private stuff.”

“You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands, Vale,” I warn him with what I hope is my equally persuasive death glare. “Which might actually happen when I go scuba diving and forget how to use my oxygen tank.”

He squeezes my hand gently and smiles. “You will not run out of oxygen during scuba lessons. I’ll make sure of that.”

Maybe, but the way he’s sucking oxygen from the plane by giving me that sexy smile is going to be my undoing.

He strokes his thumb along the back of my hand, sending tingles up my arm. “And I’ll gladly get a lemonade with you poolside and rub lotion on your back. But I won’t leave you sulking in the room. We’ll have fun together. Remember the list we came up with earlier—the one about how we behave as newlyweds?”

“Yes,” I say, my heart skittering across my chest. “But that doesn’t count here, right?”

“Those still hold true.”

I mentally replay them. Be together all the time. Touch each other as often as possible. Make it believable, whatever it takes. And never, ever have sex.

“The last one makes total sense—if we want to stay friends.” I give him a quick glance. “But why would the rest apply, when no one’s around?” It’s not that I don’t immediately warm to the idea. It’s that I’m terrified of losing myself in this charade—of blurring the lines between what’s real and what isn’t. It could happen too easily. I could lose myself in this game completely.

“People will be watching. This is a test for us. I think we need to get comfortable with each other.” His gaze locks on me. “Get to know each other... on a different level.”

“Like marriage isn’t enough of a different level?” I ask, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Sloan, I think we need to date first.”

Suddenly he’s raised the stakes. Because if he treats me like someone he actually cares about—with romantic gestures, kissing, the whole dating kit and caboodle—how am I supposed to stop myself from believing our relationship could be real? I won’t.

“Will you go out with me tonight?” he asks.

If I say yes, it will shred my emotions like ice in a blender. He’ll make me feel like his , wrapping himself around my heart in the most splendid ways.

But I’m already committed to this partnership. I can’t back out now.

“Okay,” I finally say. “Just don’t ask me what the list says.”

He chuckles. “Deal.”

Until now I’d mostly been dreading the idea of enduring this honeymoon alone. But now everything feels like the moment before you jump out of an airplane.

Like this could be the best or worst decision of your life.

When we finally reach our hotel, I’m drenched in sweat from the short walk from the shuttle stop.

“I’m off to find a drink,” I tell Vale, leaving him in the lobby check-in line to explore the hotel by myself. I discover a cute tiki-style outdoor bar near the pool waterfall and settle on a barstool.

Not a minute after I take my first sip of ice-cold lemonade, my phone dings. It’s a text from Vale.

My heart does a weird flip when I read Vale MacPherson would like to cordially invite you ...

Then it has a link, which I click on. My phone opens a virtual invitation that says, “Dinner overlooking the ocean. We’ll watch the sunset while enjoying a delicious meal together. After-dinner activities include: a walk on the beach or a sunset swim, your choice. If you accept this invitation, festivities begin at five sharp.”

I check my watch. It’s four p.m., which only gives me an hour.

Before tapping the button that says I agree, I open my book and find the note Jaz gave me.

Across the top it reads, Advice for Your Honeymoon and the first thing listed is “Always say yes when he asks you to do something together. Even if it’s something out of your comfort zone. And second, never be afraid to say what’s on your mind. Even if it’s something hard to say, speak up. He’ll love you more for it.”

Vale can never see this note, but maybe my sister is onto something. I can say yes to his list of date activities, but the idea of being completely honest with him—especially about my feelings—makes my heart gallop like a wild stallion. Risking our friendship is a leap I’m not sure I can take right now.

I tap the button to say yes to Vale’s virtual invitation, before tucking the note back into the book.

At least I can tell Jaz I used it now. And maybe it will come in handy later.

Just then, a man strides across the patio toward me, his gaze heavy. My breath catches when our eyes meet, and I realize it’s Vale. His mouth quirks into that boyish half-smile that will be my undoing on this trip.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says. “Here’s your key to our suite. Enjoy.” He hands me the key card and turns to go.

“Wait. Where are you going?” I ask.

“I need to run an errand before our date tonight.”

“What errand?” I ask, wondering what he’s up to.

His smile reaches all the way to his eyes. “Can’t tell you. It’s a secret.” He takes a wisp of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “You can have the room to yourself while I’m gone. See you at five.” Then he wheels around and leaves me with my sweating glass of lemonade and the ghost of his touch.

I know he’s just being thoughtful, giving me space so I won’t feel awkward about sharing a room with him.

If only he knew that when he leaves me like this, it makes me want him all the more.