My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon

I’ve never felt anything like that—a climax that’s as much mind as it is body.

I feel as though I did claim her. She’s mine, but also . . . I am hers.

Surprisingly, I feel no cage from that. Not the way I always feared I would. I feel at peace with Abigail in my arms.

In the post-orgasmic bliss, we’re spent and sweating, making promises with our tongues beyond words.

“So beautiful,” I whisper. “So special.”

Abigail is about to say something in return but a sound pulls my attention. Or rather, a lack of sound.

I put my finger to her lips, tilting my head to listen.

“What?” she says around my finger.

“It’s quiet, too quiet,” I tell her, and I can see the dawning realization on her face. The quiet rumble of the engine, which has thrummed through the boat from the moment we climbed aboard, has stopped.

“Why aren’t we moving?” Abigail asks.

I shrug, not having any idea. This night cruise is more party ship, not swimming or snorkeling, and those are the only reasons we should be stopped.

Unless something is wrong.

Because we are definitely dead in the water.Chapter 16AbiThe mood of a moment ago evaporates in an instant as Lorenzo’s wide eyes meet my even wider ones. I jump up, flipping the skirt of my dress down and digging around on the floor for my bikini top. I pull it around my chest, but my fingers are clumsy and I can’t get the tie done.

“Help me,” I beg.

Lorenzo nods, leaving his own shirt unbuttoned to focus on my swimsuit top. “Good,” he says, tying it easily. “There’s your bottoms too.” He points to the far side of the bed.

How did they get there? Last time I had a conscious thought, Lorenzo had pushed them to my ankles. After that . . . no idea.

I lunge across the bed to grab them and yank them up my legs, wildly kicking my feet in the air to help get the suit situated.

“Come on,” Lorenzo says sharply as he grabs my hand and leads me back out to the top deck.

The party never stopped here. The whole crowd is still happily dancing, the dark night broken by flashing rainbow disco lights and the booming music.

“Maybe we’re okay?” I say hopefully. Lorenzo doesn’t let me pretend, not even for a second, giving me a raised brow look.

“Look, there’s Janey.” He points across the floor to where Janey is dancing with her new friends. “Let’s see if they made an announcement that we missed.”

I take the lead this time, dragging Lorenzo across the floor behind me. I must look like a woman on a mission because people are hopping out of my way left and right. “Janey!” I yell over the music, waving wildly. She smiles and waves back, oblivious.

Finally, I make it to her side and shout in her ear, “Why are we stopped?”

“Huh?” I can’t hear her answer, but her brows knit together as she looks at me in confusion.

Before she catches a damn clue, the speaker crackles. “Hey there, folks! You might’ve noticed that we’ve stopped for a minute. This B-Yacht-ch is a bit temperamental sometimes. We all know a diva like that, don’t we?” he jokes with a sigh of dramatic exasperation. “Anyway, we’re having some minor technical difficulties, but don’t worry, we’ve got a fix-it man on the way. In the meantime, we’re keeping the party rolling for a bit longer. Here’s to the wild and crazy nights of Aruba!”

The announcer makes it sound like this is no big deal, as though a little longer on a relaxing party cruise is the score of a lifetime. And typically, it would be.

But not tonight.

Not when I have fewer than twenty-four hours until the rehearsal dinner and multiple arrangements to prepare. I knew I shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have come out tonight. It was irresponsible, but I’d wanted the one last night of fun with Lorenzo that he promised. I just really need the reasonable bedtime he promised too because tomorrow is coming at a record pace.

And I’m sitting still in the water, miles away from my work, unable to do anything about it.

Maybe I can swim back? How far out are we? I look toward shore and the lights look like tiny pinpricks, so . . . that’s a no.

Is there someone I can call? A lifeline I can use? Way to think like an entitled brat, Abs.

I could take one of the lifeboats and row myself to shore, row-row-row-your boat style.

I’m swirling the drain, and though I know it, I can’t stop the downward spiral of my thoughts. This wedding is too important, and I’m afraid I’m going to let everyone down.

I feel Lorenzo’s steadying hands on my shoulders, lending me strength and warmth, and I suddenly feel like such a selfish bitch for only worrying about myself.