“I can’t wait to see that. I’ve been all over the world, but that will be the most marvelous, beautiful thing I’m ever going to see.”

“Until you see our child,” I noted.

Jared beamed. “I have a lot to look forward to.”

I cupped my fingers behind his ears and pulled him toward me, tasting his lips. “So do I.” I tugged at Jared’s shirt, and pulled it over his head. Jared pressed his warm chest against me, and I sighed. At least that part of our lives could return to normal.

“You should rest,” Jared whispered against my skin.

“I will,” I promised.

Just as I had closed my eyes, they were open. The sun still shined, and Jared sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his T-shirt over his head. He turned to me, puzzled.

“You promised to nap if we—”

“I did,” I yawned. “I slept so good. What time is it? I feel like I’ve slept all day.”

“Nina, it hasn’t even been twenty minutes.”

“You’re joking.”

Jared frowned. “This is disconcerting.”

“Why? I’ve never really been a nap-taker.”

“Yes, but when you do, you’re out for three hours.” Jared leaned down, pressing his ear gently to my stomach. He stayed there for a moment, and then sighed. “Something’s different. I can’t put my finger on it. You’re different.”

“I’m not. I told you I wasn’t sleepy. Let’s go snorkeling. I’m bored.” I stood and picked a bathing suit from the suitcase, and hurried Jared to do the same. I prodded him to the beach, eager to have some fun. We snorkeled, we swam, we splashed each other and explored the farthest corners of the island. At night, we spent time together in the outside shower, and then snuggled in bed. If I hadn’t already been pregnant, by the end of our honeymoon I surely would have been. Jared was insatiable, and it seemed that with every quiet moment, I whispered suggestive things in his ear.

Just like our last visit to Little Corn, the week went by too quickly. Jared noted the familiar sadness in my eyes as I packed.

“We can come back. When you graduate, after the baby is born, we can come back and stay as long as you’d like.”

“I have a company to run, you forget.”

“That will run just fine if you decide to take a leave of absence.”

I shrugged, repeating the tedious cycle of stuffing my wedding dress into the garment bag and then smoothing it out. “Maybe.”