When he finally pulled away, I resigned that part of myself and locked it away deep into my soul. It was something that I would never allow myself to feel again.
I smiled so wide that my cheeks hurt and curled close to Dean’s chest.
“You’re so beautiful, Sophia. Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world,” he whispered as he held me. After the song ended, he rushed me over to the bar. He gestured to the bartender, demanding that he pour me the most expensive glass of champagne that he could buy, which was really quite silly because it was an open bar.
Within moments, he slipped a glass of something bubbly and pink into my fingers. I took a sip and grinned, enjoying the flavors of rosé and champagne meeting as one in a fizzy concoction that made my mouth water.
“Do you like it?” he asked, and I nodded fervently. “Keep that bottle on ice, bartender,” he grinned, and the man chuckled behind the bar.
Dean and I found a quiet corner with a comfortable loveseat and took a moment to just revel in the sight of the attendees enjoying themselves. The DJ was one of the best and it showed. With flawless effort and skill, he meshed one song smoothly into the next, building the tempo and the energy of the crowd long into the night.
The rest of the night passed by smoothly and Dean was gentlemanly enough not to even smash cake in my face like so many others had. I appreciated that. Cake frosting and expensive bridal makeup just didn’t mix.
When the hour grew late enough, Jenny swept me away yet again to put me in comfy clothes so that the two of us could escape to the airport where Dean’s private jet was waiting to fly us to our destination honeymoon in the Maldives.
Exhausted, I fell asleep in the oversized seat and I was only vaguely aware of the fact that Dean had covered me up with a blanket.
That was sweet of him. He’d probably regret that soon too.
* * *
When we landed, there were people waiting with handcrafted cocktails on the pier as we climbed out of the small seaplane that we’d boarded after his jet had brought us most of the way. A small group of two women and a man were quick to drape purple flowers over our heads before a rather lavish golf cart pulled up to bring us to our private beachside retreat. The two of us climbed on the back and I grasped at Dean’s hand, squeezing it tight with excitement as the cart whirred away. We drove for a good fifteen minutes into the dense jungle down a well-kept dirt road, and when we arrived I gasped at what I saw.
A two-story bungalow was hidden amongst the trees. Behind it was the great expanse of a beach with jewel-toned clear water lapping at the perfect white sands. I wanted to dip my toes into the water right away.
It was absolutely paradise, a secret luxury getaway with all the privacy and amenities a newly married couple could ever need.
It had been his idea. I’d agreed wholeheartedly.
I’d always wanted to see the Maldives.
Another golf cart drove up behind us with our luggage and followed us to the front door. It was unlocked and when we walked inside, we were greeted with the delightful aroma of candles and fragrant flowers in beautiful vases spread all over the room. There was an assortment of delicious-looking chocolates and fruits set out on platters on the birch wood table across from the kitchen. Those accompanying us were quick in their work and disappeared once we were settled, leaving Dean and me all alone together.
“There’s a full restaurant just a short ride away if you want something like that. There’s also room service. You can have whatever you want, my beautiful wife. Just ask and you shall receive,” Dean said. He loved being able to provide for me like that. I didn’t respond because I was enamored with our lodging enough that I couldn’t think of anything to say.
I strolled through the bungalow, enjoying the natural tropical feel. Once I reached the back, my mouth opened in shock at the full gorgeous sight of the beach. There was no one on it. We were the only ones out here. Complete and utter privacy.
I could walk down the beach totally naked and he’d be the only one to see.
“Wow,” I whispered.
“This is the honeymoon suite. There isn’t anyone else close by for at least a mile. Do you know what that means, my pretty bride?” he murmured.
“What’s that?” I smirked coyly.
“It means you can scream as loud as you want tonight because there’s no one but me to hear you,” he teased, and I chuckled before I rushed out and kicked off my shoes, wanting to feel what the sand felt like between my toes.
He followed me and his arms wound around my waist, pulling me close. Casually, he kissed my neck as the wind whipped my long hair around my face.
I turned my head and pressed my lips against his.
It would be one last night. One more night of playing this sordid game.
I was going to enjoy myself and by the time the sun rose in the morning, I would be gone.
* * *
Dean didn’t want to rush to our wedding night. Instead, he insisted on taking me to a candlelit white tablecloth dinner at the fancy restaurant complete with freshly caught seafood and the best crème brûlée I’d ever had the privilege to taste. He fed me bites of his dinner and I fed him some of mine. We talked about our visions of the future, what we wanted in our house together, the places in the world I wanted to see, anything and everything and in the end, nothing really at all because those weren’t my dreams.