Perfectly Wedded (Perfect Crush #1)

18. Vale

EIGHTEEN

Vale

“ S urprise!” Jaz screams, holding her arms out and barreling into her sister with a hug.

“What are you doing here?” Sloan asks, trying to smooth her hair and pretend she’s not totally shaken by our encounter.

“Crashing your honeymoon,” Jaz says, like this is a sufficient and logical answer. Of course family members always show up unannounced at a couple’s honeymoon suite with no warning.

Brax steps out from behind her in the hall. “Hey, Vale.”

“You’re here too?” I gasp. Impeccable timing.

“You didn’t think I’d let my wife come without me on a beautiful tropical vacation?” Then he chuckles. “You’re shocked?”

“Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I say slowly, glancing at Sloan, who has a smile that looks drawn on by a preschooler with a Sharpie.

“Did we interrupt?” Jaz asks, then holds up her hands. “Wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know the answer . ” She raises her eyebrows as she steps around Sloan. “Nice suite. Can’t wait to see ours.”

“Wait—what?” Sloan asks.

“We have a suite just like yours,” she says, crashing onto the couch I was planning on using as my bed. This feels oddly familiar. Just like home, and yet, not.

“You’re staying here? ” Sloan asks.

“Isn’t it great? When I booked your trip, I mentioned to Brax how much I’d like to go to Cancun. We hardly had time for a honeymoon since he was in the middle of hockey season, and we only got away for an extended weekend.” She makes a sad face, and Brax joins her on the couch.

“I suggested a second honeymoon to Jaz, and she was totally on board. Since they were making an exception for you, the boss had to approve my time off as well,” Brax says. “When we checked out the options, your honeymoon package was such a great deal, we booked two. One for you. And one for us.” He wraps his arm around Jaz’s shoulders and smiles. “A whole week of family bonding time!”

“Lucky us,” I mutter.

“All the earlier flights were booked,” Jaz says. “But yay us for making it happen!” She puts her arms in the air like a cheerleader, while Sloan shoots me a panicked look of What are we going to do now?

Brax looks at me and reads my expression. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to interrupt or get in the way. If you want to do things together during the day, that’s fine. We’re not forcing ourselves into your honeymoon.”

“So we might see you or we might not. I can live with that.” I link my arm around Sloan’s waist and rub my thumb over the top of her hip. My hand warms from the feel of her body close to mine. “Because Sloan and I want a lot of alone time together.”

Her body tenses.

Sloan turns to me. “It would be rude not to spend time with them,” she says, sweetly.

“No, it won’t,” I say. “Brax just told me as much.”

I know what her game is. She wants to hide behind her sister and avoid me. She’s using this surprise visit to throw a monkey wrench into my plans to woo her .

This was my week to convince her I’m not letting her leave this marriage without a fight. It was our chance to be together, without putting on an act. But that will be nearly impossible now.

That’s why I’m desperately hanging on to the rules we agreed to. And not just hanging on to them, but pushing them to their limits. Whatever it takes.

“Vale, they’re family,” she insists. “Of course we’ll spend time together. We can’t hang out in our room all day.”

I arch an eyebrow. “I’d like to prove that theory wrong.”

Sloan’s eyes widen.

Jaz snort-laughs. “Brax, maybe we should go . . .”

“No!” Sloan grabs her sister’s arm. “You want to hang out now? We weren’t doing anything important.”

“Sloan,” I warn wickedly. “We were in the middle of something I’d like to finish.”

Sloan’s eyes cut to mine.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Jaz says with a yawn. “I’m tired from the flight.” She stands and heads to the door, glancing at the bedroom. “Did you like the rose petals and chocolates? We asked the concierge to arrange it for you.”

“Quite the surprise,” Sloan says in a mock cheerful voice, not meeting my eyes and trying to inch away from me.

“Yeah, Sloan couldn’t wait to fall into them,” I add, not looking at Sloan.

“Vale loves to exaggerate,” she explains, then looks back at her sister. “Can we meet up in the morning, bright and early?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, hooking my hand around her shoulders and pulling her under my arm. “We might be exhausted... since we’re newlyweds.”

Sloan’s eyes widen before she looks at me like she wants to stab me with the hotel pen. I lift my eyebrows to remind her of the plan. We need to look like newlyweds who can’t keep their hands off each other, not retirees rising at the crack of dawn for free hotel breakfast.

“We might just do breakfast in bed.” I give her a wink.

She blinks before looking back at her sister. “I’ll text you in the morning.”

Brax steps toward the door. “We thought we might go snorkeling tomorrow.”

“Oh, really?” Sloan says. “That’s exactly what we had planned!”

She’s lying through her teeth, since I’m the one who made the list of dates for the week. This is her attempt to get away from any situation that might leave us with too much time on our hands in the bedroom.

“Maybe we could go together?” Jaz suggests.

“I love that idea!” Sloan says. “Let’s plan for that all day, and then maybe we can have dinner together afterward?”

“Sounds perfect,” Jaz answers, then links her arm through Brax’s. She beams up at him. “That airplane seat did a number on my back, and I’m starving. What do you say we order room service and go to bed?”

Brax’s lips curl into a wicked grin. “Is that even a question?” They leave, the door slamming with an ominous thud.

So much for having Sloan to myself tomorrow.

Sloan immediately pulls away from my arm before she wheels around. “Did you enjoy embarrassing me in front of my sister?”

“What?” I shrug. “I’m just behaving as obnoxiously as any newlywed couple would.” If Sloan considered me her real husband, of course I’d brag about getting up late and spending time alone with her. And I wouldn’t feel the least bit guilty about those bragging rights as her husband.

“What they don’t know is that I’m sleeping on the couch tonight,” I add. “So clearly I’m not winning. Unless you’d rather we tell them the truth?”

Sloan looks at me, stunned. “The truth? Do you know how much that would hurt my sister, knowing she arranged this and it’s all a sham? We owe Jaz and Brax this, even if some day we have to break the news that we’re ending the marriage and my sister blames me.”

“Why would she blame you?” I ask.

“Because, according to my family, I don’t stick with things. I’m always on to the next shiny thing in my life, whether it’s a new job or a new boyfriend.”

I frown. “What do you mean? You’re not a quitter.”

She sighs. “But I’ve never stayed in a relationship very long. Not even with Anthony. Even though he left me, I knew long before that he wasn’t the right guy for me. In every relationship, I’m always wondering if there’s someone better for me. Someone I can never have.” She looks at me for a fleeting moment before flopping onto the couch. “Apparently, I’m better at committing to a fake relationship than a real one.” She leans her head back against the couch and closes her eyes.

I sit next to her, but this time I don’t touch her, even though I want to more than anything. “Sloan, you are the most loyal friend I have.”

She gives me a weak smile. “I’m also married to you, so I kinda have to be loyal.”

“But you don’t have to be my friend. You choose to be. There’s a difference,” I remind her, holding her gaze. “Just for the record, when you find the man who’s right for you, I think you will stay for the long haul.”

Her eyes meet mine. “You really think that?”

I nod. “I do.”

I want that person to be me, but I can’t force her into choosing me. Even though I plan on being as convincing as possible, I have to let her make the final decision. If I push too hard, I might push her away forever. “We said we were going to do this trip the right way. That we’d have fun together and go on dates. Just because Brax and Jaz are here doesn’t change things.”

“It changes how we act.”

But is it an act? Not with me. “I still want us to have a honeymoon we’ll never forget. ”

She looks up at me with her wide eyes, and something in my heart flips.

“Whatever it takes, right?” she murmurs.

Every time she looks at me that way, I feel even more strongly that I can’t end this marriage. It kills me to even think about giving her up.

Which is why I won’t. I can’t. “Whatever it takes,” I repeat softly.

She lifts her eyebrows. “So you’ll let me off easy? Not embarrass me with our marriage rules?”

“I didn’t say that,” I tell her, shaking my head. “I’m still planning on following every rule to a tee.”

Sloan scoots away from me to the other side of the couch, putting more space between us, more road blocks to kick down.

“But I’m also going to make sure that you’re relaxed and comfortable. Starting now.” I pat the space next to me. “Scoot over, wife. You need a shoulder massage.”

“What?” she asks, pulling her knees up on the couch. “I’m fine.”

“Sloan. Your shoulders are so tense, they’re almost to your earlobes. Doctor’s order.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“No, but I am your husband.” I grab her waist and slide her closer.

“You’re forcing me to get a shoulder rub?” she says.

I spin my finger in a circle. “Turn around so your back is toward me.”

She sighs. “If you say so, cabana boy.”

I grin. “You like calling me that a little too much.” She’s still in her swimsuit, her teal sundress over top. Her shoulders are mostly bare, her upper back fully exposed for a shoulder rub. I brush her hair over to one side and admire the soft lines of her back, the freckle on one shoulder blade, the way her skin feels like silk. I gently place my hands on her shoulders and start kneading my thumbs into her muscles .

At first, she tenses, but the more I work her muscles, the more she melts in my hands. And the fact she doesn’t have to look at me seems to make things easier. Like how it was at home, before we were married, when things were simple for us.

“That feels... gooooood .” Even though I can’t see her face, I’m pretty sure her eyes are closed. “You know, you could have a second career as a cabana boy.”

“Glad to know I have a job prospect when I retire from hockey,” I say with a laugh. I glide my fingers down her spine. Touching her is a pleasure.

“You make a pretty decent husband,” she admits. “Most of the time.”

“I don’t aim for pretty decent, Sloan. I want to be best ever .” I find another tense spot and slowly knead it. A little moan escapes her lips.

“ Mm-hmm. ”

“Did you just moan?” I half laugh. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her make that sound before.

Her body stiffens. “No, I do that all the time! I moan about everything.”

My hands go still. “You made a sound like you were experiencing pure bliss.”

“Okay, fine, I did that. Happy now? Your magic hands made a weird sound come from my lips. How in the world did you learn to give massages like that?”

“I get a lot of sports massages,” I say, working the muscles between her shoulder blades.

“But I’m not a hockey player. You could probably crush me with your hands.”

“I don’t go as deep, but the technique is the same,” I say, using my knuckles to work out a tense spot. “I’d like to get better at it.”

“Well, you can practice on me any day,” she says, her head tipping back.

“I’m going to remember that,” I say. “And hold you to it. ”

She looks over her shoulder. “By the way, how are we going to hide that you’re sleeping in the living room?”

“I’ll have to remake the couch every day and hide my things in the bedroom.”

She frowns. “But what if they stop by before you’ve had the chance? There’s too much risk of them finding out. We need a better plan.”

“Do you have a suggestion?” I ask, working my hands up her neck. Every time I massage a new spot, she seems to turn to putty in my hands.

She pauses, and I can’t tell whether it’s because she’s falling asleep or thinking.

Without turning around, she says, “You could move into the bedroom.”

I stop moving, my hands still resting on her shoulders. “I thought you said we shouldn’t be in there together. You said never. ”

“I said that before my sister showed up. If they caught you sleeping on the couch, they’d immediately suspect something was up.”

I wait a beat, studying the way her shoulders lift, then drop when she sighs.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, not pressuring her.

“It’s a king-sized bed.” She glances over her shoulder. “We can easily fit two people plus plenty of space between us for a pillow wall.”

I laugh. “To protect who? Me from you?”

She smacks me with the couch pillow. “No! To keep you from crossing the imaginary line in the middle of the bed.”

It seems perfectly reasonable. And a lesson in frustration. But I’m a strong guy, right? I can imagine she’s not on the other side of the pillow wall. Not close enough to snake my hand under the covers to hold hers. Not near enough to rest my chin on the soft curve of her neck, taking in the scent of her body.

“I won’t hate this part of the charade,” I say with a smirk .

“On the other hand, maybe you should sleep on the couch tonight,” she says, smacking me with the pillow again as she scoots away.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” I say, grabbing her arm and tugging her toward me. “You can’t dangle a king-sized bed in front of me and then take it away. That’s not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and pillow fights,” she says between shrieks of laughter, smacking me with a pillow in the chest. She leaps off the couch, grabbing the other pillow, holding them up like shields.

I lift an eyebrow. “Is that a threat? Because in case you didn’t notice, they’re pillows, not nunchucks. And second, you really don’t want to fight me.”

She adjusts her stance to something vaguely martial arts-like. “Oh, really, Mr. Hot Stuff? Just try me.”

“Oh, I will.” I leap forward as she jumps out of the way.

“Not too shabby,” I say. “Maybe you should play hockey.”

“And show you up?”

“Yeah.” I take a few steps toward her. “Then again, maybe I don’t need pillows.”

I dart forward as she laughs and leaps away from me. She climbs over the couch, jumps on top of the armrest and takes off for the bedroom. I chase her down the hall and finally catch her just before she reaches the door. I duck low, sweeping her off her feet and hauling her over my shoulder in one smooth move.

“Vale, no!” She laughs and kicks against me.

I loop my arms around the back of her knees as she dangles over my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she says as I carry her upside down into the room.

“Letting you win,” I say. I drop her on the bed as flower petals fly everywhere. She’s on her back, looking up at me, her chest heaving with every breath.

She looks so kissable right now, but that’s exactly what I shouldn’t do if I want her to trust me .

I lean over her, placing my hands on either side of her shoulders. “That’s what you wanted, right? To win?”

For a fleeting second, something ripples across her face, and her eyes drop to my lips.

I don’t want this to go further until I’m sure she can trust me. At this point, she doesn’t even trust me enough to sleep next to her without a pillow wall, let alone anything more. The last time she tried to kiss me, it was because she wanted me to set an end date. But I can’t kiss her until I know she’s not running just to get the end date she thinks she needs—until this thing between us is real, and not just another escape plan.

Let’s face it, she only asked me to stay because she’s afraid of people finding out about us. It’s fear driving her now. And that’s not how I want this marriage to go.

I need her to ask me to stay because she wants me here—without question. When she does, it won’t be because she’s counting down to an end date of her own making.

I turn to go.

“Wait—where are you going?” she asks, frowning.

“Since you’re so worried about me sleeping here... I won’t.”

She props herself on her elbows and frowns. “But where will you sleep?”

“On the couch. I’ll clean up my stuff before anyone sees it.”

“You don’t have to do that, Vale,” she says, sitting up. “I thought we agreed on this.”

“Until you trust me, I’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“I do. I just thought...” For a second, she looks torn.

I want her to say it, to tell me she wants me here, for real this time. “You thought what?”

“We need to keep up the charade.”

Everything crumbles in me. I hate the word charade . I hate everything about this stupid arrangement. The more we’re together, the less I can do anything about the pent-up desire that feels like a can of soda about to explode. I’m living in a perpetual state of frustration, wanting her but never within reach of actually having her. Just about the time it seems like Sloan reveals a piece of her heart, she emotionally backpedals on me. She’s pulling a Houdini, giving me every reason to believe she’s invested in this, then disappearing like it was all a perfectly executed magic act.

“Well, I can’t keep this up.” I grab a pillow off the bed, and head to the door. “I’m not staying in this room until you actually want me in here. Until you ask me to because you’re no longer afraid of what might happen between us.”