Ian

“I’m not sure this is the best idea,” Zoe announced.

I picked up the bags the kindly porter had set at my—our—feet before zooming off down the narrow, twisty road before us. It led away from the old rehabbed church that served as my brother’s and his wife’s vacation property on a remote island, the name of which continued to elude me though I was currently standing on it.

St. John’s? Yes, that seemed like it could be the one. I would attempt to discreetly find out while not acting as if I didn’t already know.

Zoe and I were relatively new to this whole relationship business. I’d swiftly realized that being in a committed union was like navigating a minefield. I was just gaining my footing on the battleground. Slow but steady.

I was also learning how to be a brother. Simon and I hadn’t grown up together. He’d been raised in California while I’d been raised in London. We were just beginning to learn to tolerate each other. Him more so than me. Though I’d had the requisite feelings of jealousy that came from being pitted against each other by our mum, I’d also had a bit of hero worship.

No part of Simon had worshipped me. To be fair, he’d had no warning of my existence, and my arrival had heralded a torrent of trouble in his life. Some intentional, a lot not.

But we were past all of that now. Somehow. I still wasn’t sure how we’d all made it through relatively unscathed.

I even had my beloved Zoe by my side again, and we’d spent months together this go-round with no bloodshed. Well, there had been that one broken dish, due to me shagging her on the kitchen table.

Some casualties of war were worth it.

“You’re in paradise, Magic. Why ever would you say that?”

“We’re in paradise with a heavily pregnant woman. An isolated paradise. Doesn’t that seem like a recipe for possible problems to you?”

I slung the bags over my shoulder and stepped toward Zoe, cupping her face with my free hand. I’d forever thank all the gods that she was a light traveler. “It seems as if you’ve become a worrier in your newly maternal state.”

She poked me in the chest. “Easy for you to be unconcerned. You men just drop and run.”

“I hardly dropped and ran. As I recall, I spent an entire evening on the process of impregnating you, and then returned to improve upon my work the next day and the day after that.” I kissed her on the nose.

“Yeah, and I’m never going to hear the end of it, as if you were the first man to ever become a father. I had something to do with it, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Oh, I’ve forgotten nothing. And in case I do, I have this trusty little video—” I started to reach for my mobile, letting out a laugh as she batted my hand away from my pocket.

“Are we finally going to tell everyone?” She yanked one of her camera cases off my shoulder before I could protest. “Ideally, before I start to show and people think I’ve indulged in far too much Christmas baking?”

“You’re barely along yet and besides, your peanut butter thumbprint cookies are to die for.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, buster.”

“Not even into the pouch of them you secreted in your camera bag?” I reached for it and she laughed.

“You see far too much.” Her laughter faded as a surprise gust of wind skittered some fallen branches and leaves across our feet. “What is the weather supposed to be like while we’re here anyway?”

“It’s a tropical island. Hot. Sunny. And I’ve heard there’s a nude beach.”

“You better hope there isn’t anyone with a long-range lens or else your dangly bits might end up on the cover of a magazine.”

“Surely I’d sell even more records. My dangly bits are a sight, are they not?”

She didn’t respond, since she’d dragged out her own phone and was flicking through screens. “Uh, did anyone check the weather report before we came here?”

“Clearly, you did not, as you’re just checking it now.” I let out a long sigh as she narrowed her eyes at me. Such lovely golden eyes they were. Even more so when she was annoyed. “What does it say?”

Rather than answer, she pushed the phone at me. An ominous looking headline in heavy black type made me frown.

Hurricane Bertha has new storm track, analysts say.

“Bertha is a truly dreadful name. I hope you don’t fancy it. My child shouldn’t have—”

“Ian. Read the damn article and stop thinking about the fruit of your loins for five seconds.”

As a wise man knew when to listen to his woman, I read the article.

By the end of it, I was…well, concerned. A little.

“Look, mate, this is my first Christmas with a family.” I passed her back her phone. “A real family, including my brother and my girl and our wee one.” I patted her belly and though her eyes remained slitted, they softened. Marginally. “I never expected such good fortune. If you think an itty storm that’s spinning away merrily over the ocean is going to bring me down, you’re wrong.”

“That’s sweet. It truly is. Though if you call me mate again, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions.”

“It’s a term of endearment.” I wrapped my free arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the place where we’d be staying. A large holiday wreath made of undetermined flora hung on the door, festooned with a large red bow and various beachy items. There were shells and sand dollars, and perhaps even a random bit or two of sea glass. It matched some of the windows, which held panes of rainbow hues.

Stained glass was rather fitting for a renovated church. I hoped I didn’t start to smoke the moment I stepped over the threshold.

The one positive thing was that from the outside, it didn’t much look like a church. Oh, some steeples and interesting arches remained, but Simon and Margo had expanded upon it and built it out until the structure held only the barest bones of a holy gathering place.

At least I assumed there were no crosses over the beds. I wore one on my person, an item of personal value I’d had since I was a boy. Surely that was enough.

My brother definitely wasn’t one to have a religious altar. So, I should be safe.

“Yes, and so is jackass. Remember that when I call you it often over this vacation, especially if that hurricane comes anywhere near here.”

Chuckling, I tugged on her long braids. The ends were newly bright purple from some non-toxic vegan dye, which reminded me of the early days of our courtship.

“Magic, do you honestly think even the heavens themselves would deny us our happiness? After we’ve fought so long and so hard to have it?”

“Famous last words,” she muttered.

But she was smiling.

Slightly.

“Hey, brother, you going to come out and greet us?” I called, hoping Simon and Margo weren’t indisposed. It was rather late in her pregnancy, but I doubted they would abstain.

I certainly didn’t intend to.

The door opened and I smiled widely, ready to greet my brother with a hug. He still wasn’t that affectionate toward me, but I considered it a win that he was even speaking to me. I had faith things would improve even more in time.

Look how far we’d come already.

Nick Crandall stepped out on the small stoop and extended his arms broadly. “Welcome, friends. So happy to see you.” Nick’s smirk said volumes. He was about as sincere as a python. “Lila and I are so excited to spend this vacation with you both, along with Simon and Margo.”

I slid a look at Zoe. “Did you know your cousin was coming here too?” I asked in an undertone.

Her cousin who hated me. Fabulous.

Frantically, Zoe shook her head.

Lila and Nick—who just happened to be Margo’s and Simon’s best friends—had not yet gotten the memo that I was now considered a good guy. Yes, I’d had a rocky start with this group. I’d done some shady things and people had gotten hurt. I deserved every bit of their ire. But it was the holiday season, and we were turning over a new leaf.

Or so I’d hoped.

Still, it was on me to try to pave the way. If I radiated good cheer, perhaps the same would be returned to me. To us.

At least until they all learned I’d impregnated Zoe—on purpose. Without the benefit of matrimony. Or even a terribly long courtship. Then I’d probably be on the, what was it called, shit list yet again.

I tried to smile. Regardless, nothing would ruin our pre-Christmas holiday away. Not foul weather or relations who wished me dead. “Nick, how lovely to see you.” I cleared my throat. “Merry Christmas to us.”