There’s something in his eyes, though, that really gets me going. By most estimations they could be described simply as an unremarkable toffee brown, more almond than oval in shape. A little squinty at times, and his least remarkable feature. But one look from that man and I swear I’m ready to combust on the spot. It’s the way they sear into mine, like he can see past the surface, right down to my soul.

On second thought, maybe it’s not the way his eyes look at all, but the way they look at me…

“You okay?” he asks, drawing me from my stupor with an all-knowing smirk.

“Uh-huh,” I say practically swallowing my tongue. “So good.” My head feels light, and my heart is fluttering impossibly fast. I haven’t felt butterflies like this with anyone but this man. I’d forgotten how enchanting it felt just to be in his orbit.

“Great,” he answers, reaching over my lap for the door handle and popping it open, “Because we’re here.”

“Oh!” Giddy to see where he’s taken me, I fight the urge to squeal as I scramble across the seat, lugging the heavy dress behind. “I didn’t even notice when we stopped,” I say, glancing around at the enormous palms swaying in the breeze. The sound of their fronds rustling, paired with the waves crashing against the shore, is music to my ears. I take a deep inhale, filling my lungs with salt and sea…and happiness.

Maybe he was onto something in skipping that hotel. I had no idea such paradise existed less than an hour from home. Or how much I needed a break from the sadness. A chance to breathe fresh air.

“You were a little preoccupied,” he teases.

“Hey,” I say, swatting him in the chest with the back of a hand when he comes to stand beside me. “There’s no shame in admiring your husband—” I choke up on the word. Because while I’ve always hoped it’d be Lyle standing beside me on that altar, I never imagined I’d be a wife at only twenty-one. “I—is there?”

“Admire away, wife.” He tucks a windblown strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll never tire of the way you look at me…not ever.”

“And how do I look at you?” I prod.

The corner of his mouth curls up in a sly smirk. “Like I’m still the hottie from next door.”

I slap a hand to my forehead. “I can’t believe I said that in church.”

“It was, without question, my favorite part of the ceremony,” he says, the picture of seriousness as he takes a moment to stare off into the distance, deep in thought. “It was nice…”

“What was?” I rasp, accepting his offered hand.

“Being seen as anything more than famous.”