Perfectly Wedded (Perfect Crush #1)

16. Vale

SIXTEEN

Vale

“ A lways keep surprises up your sleeve. It’s how you keep your wife guessing,” Brax told me before I left for the honeymoon. “Look at this trip as a chance for you and Sloan to really bond.”

“Listen, Brax, I appreciate the advice, but why are you so worried about this trip? Isn’t the honeymoon the easy part?”

“I just want this to work out for you.”

Of course, Brax wants it to work. If we eventually end this marriage, it’ll put pressure on the entire family, and I can’t be the one who causes a rift. That conversation has been weighing on me ever since we left Sully’s Beach. Now that we’re here, the pressure feels more real than ever.

With that in mind, I arrange my first surprise: a picnic dinner in a secluded spot, away from the usual tourists. The perfect chance to show Sloan how much she means to me—if I don’t screw it up.

As soon as I leave the hotel, I arrange dinner plans and then head to the street market to find Sloan a bouquet from a flower cart—something to let her know I’m thinking about her.

With only a few minutes left to spare, I rush back to our suite and knock .

For a few panicked seconds, there’s no response. My mind races, wondering if Sloan is rethinking this whole dating thing. Tonight was supposed to be the start of showing her just how incredible she is. It’s the first step in wooing her, in making her see that I want more than just friendship. It might seem crazy that we’re doing this whole dating and marriage thing backward, but I’ve never been a conventional guy—or someone who backs down when there’s an obstacle.

Finally, the door swings open, and there’s Sloan, looking stunning in a deep teal dress that grazes her knees. Swimsuit straps peek from her shoulders. I soak her up like an old, shriveled sponge—because, let’s face it, it’s been a long time since I’ve even tried to date anyone, let alone someone like her.

“I hope this will work?” she says, glancing down at her dress. “Or should I change?”

She must have mistaken my silence for disapproval, when in reality, I was just struck speechless. “Sloan, you look fantastic. Don’t change. Please.”

Her gaze falls to the bouquet in my hand. “Flowers? You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh?” She grins, taking the bouquet and placing it in a glass of water. “So, are you going to tell me where we’re headed for our date? Because I’ve been googling all the local restaurants that overlook the ocean.”

My stomach churns nervously. Is she expecting a fancy restaurant? Because that’s not what I had in mind for our first date.

“What?” she asks, studying me as we head to the elevator.

“Sloan, I’m not taking you to a restaurant tonight,” I say slowly. “If you want to change plans, we can.”

“Oh, Vale,” she says. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I wanted to change plans. I’m perfectly fine with whatever you’ve planned.” She plays with her new ring while avoiding my gaze.

Something has shifted between us, and I can’t put my finger on what. Maybe it’s the fact that we’re finally alone. Away from the team. Away from the pressure and the press. With all the time in the world to get to know the person we married .

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. We step inside, the awkwardness hanging between us as I catch her reflection in the polished doors.

“I hope I won’t disappoint you, but we’re picking up dinner from the chef downstairs and then heading to a surprise location.”

“Where?”

“Show me your sister’s list and I’ll tell you,” I say with a smirk.

“Vale,” she says. “That’s not fair.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to wait to find out.”

We pick up the food and walk out of our hotel as I check my notes for tonight’s date. According to the Facebook posts I read in the Honeymoon to Cancun group, the people who told me about this spot claimed it was off the beaten track and incredibly romantic, known by the locals as “Lover’s Hideaway.”

As we head onto an overgrown trail, we suddenly escape the crowds and cars and are thrust into a thick grove of trees. I’m hoping that trusting a stranger in a Facebook group for a romantic date spot wasn’t a stupid idea, or Sloan may not ever trust me again. Suddenly, the lush forest opens up as we reach the summit, and we both stop in our tracks, stunned by the breathtaking view. The sky unfurls before us, a gaping stretch of orange and pinks, like a tropical drink spilled across the horizon. Below us, the waves crash on the shore, the endless ocean rippling like a blue rug.

This is so much more romantic than I even imagined.

I grab the blanket from my backpack and spread it on the ground. “I hope the view makes up for the work it took to get here. Sorry it’s not a fancy restaurant.”

“Vale. Remember the jewelry store? I don’t do fancy.” She looks over at me, and I can see her nervousness ebbing away. “This is so much better. So much more me .”

I smile, and as she sits, I do a silent fist pump behind her back. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for us.”

I open the lid on her spicy mango shrimp and rice dish, the smell of coconut, spicy pepper sauce and fragrant cilantro blending together.

Her face lights up. “How’d you know?”

“I’d like to take full credit, but it was a panicked text to your sister that saved me.”

She laughs.

I open my carryout box. “And since your sister couldn’t decide between that dish and the grilled salmon with pasta, I got both.”

Her eyes widen. “You got two meals?”

“I’ll eat whatever you don’t want. Consider me your personal cabana boy.”

She laughs, then picks up her fork. “When my sister and I order amazing dishes, we just eat off each other’s plates. Anthony was always strict about the no-sharing rule.”

I slide my dish between us. “Your food is my food.”

One point—me. Zero points—Anthony.

With a smile, she slides her dish my way, and we fall into a rhythm of picking at each other’s entrees. At one point, I even pluck a shrimp with my fork and offer to feed it to her. “For the full cabana boy experience.”

She takes it with a laugh, all the worry gone from before. We just needed to get out of the hotel to a place where we could relax, without any pressure about what happens later.

“I’m curious,” she says, putting down her fork and studying me as I finish the pasta. “How did your family react to the news when you first told them?”

“You mean harassing me about the fact they weren’t invited to my wedding?” I say.

“That well, huh?” she asks with a pained expression.

“My sister was miffed, but Mom wasn’t mad. A little disappointed, maybe, but this whole wedding renewal ceremony will make up for it.”

“Yeah, about that...” Sloan jumps to her feet and immediately starts cleaning up. “Do you think we should just skip it? I mean, we could have a reception and let The Star Report cover it, and I can tell everyone we’re not interested in renewing our vows.”

“Are you nervous about the wedding?” I touch her arm to get her to stop moving. I can see that she’s having second thoughts, because whenever she gets nervous, she avoids eye contact and busies herself.

She shakes her head. “It’s one thing to have tied the knot in Vegas already. It’s another to stand in front of everyone we know and fake our vows.”

“Sloan,” I take her shoulders gently so she’ll look at me. “We can’t solve everything right now. We’re only on the first day of our honeymoon. I know we’re doing everything backward. But maybe this trip is our chance to pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist for a few days—that it’s just us and nothing else.”

Her shoulders relax. “You’re not nervous about it?”

“The wedding?” I shake my head. “No, because my first goal is to get you to relax this week and forget about everything in our real lives.” I turn toward the ocean. “I bet the water feels fantastic. Are you ready to take a swim?”

She looks up at me and cringes. “So soon after dinner?”

“Are you worried about swimming after eating? I think that’s an old wives’ tale.”

“No,” she says quietly, looking down. “It’s not that. It’s just... I’m not ready for you to see me in my swimsuit.”

I blink, taken aback. “Are you kidding me?” Then I hold up the blanket we used for the picnic. “You could be wearing this, and I’d think you were hot.”

She lifts an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Well, the blanket might be an improvement. At least it hides everything.”

“You don’t need to hide a single thing,” I say.

“I don’t believe you. Not when you look around at all the beautiful women on the beach.”

I scan the beach. “I don’t see any, except for you. ”

She points at a woman in a bright pink bikini, the size of a few dinner napkins. “How about that girl?”

I shrug, looking back at Sloan. “Maybe you think she looks attractive, but I don’t.”

She scoffs. “How could you say that?”

I step closer, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “Because she’s not you. ”

Sloan’s mouth opens, then she shakes her head. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Dead serious.” I reach for her hand. “I don’t care about anyone else on this beach. Whenever you’re ready, Sloan, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”