The moment the private plane lifts off the ground, my heart turns over. The loss of control always evokes feelings of giddiness within me.

My first time on a plane was when Winston flew me to Hawaii for dinner, a month after our secret fling started.

After the pilot makes his announcements, Cynthia, one of the two air hostesses, approaches me. Her smile is bright as she leans down to get to my level. Her vanilla scent reaches out to me.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asks in a soft, soothing voice. She has a voice that would put a baby to sleep and a body that makes me feel slightly self-conscious even though I’ve always loved my gentle curves. I’m not skinny or on the heavy side. I like to think I got the best of both worlds.

Cynthia, on the other hand, would look right at home on the cover of Vogue magazine or the catwalk. Her body is slim and toned. Her honey hair, though hidden in a bun at the nape of her neck, is lush and glossy, her skin flawless. She would own the catwalk. But of course I don’t know how she would look without all the makeup. It’s a touch too much for my taste. Less is more for me.

The few times I’d really made myself up was when I went to my high school graduation party. My sister, Heather—two years older than me—never stopped bugging me about making more of an effort with my looks. I never felt the need to do anything about the way I look. Why fix something that isn’t broken? If I had skin issues, maybe I would have given makeup the permission to rescue me.

“I’ll have a glass of cranberry juice, please.”

“Coming right up.” Cynthia bats her long lashes and moves on to Winston.

Watching the two of them talk and return each other’s smiles, I can’t help but wonder how long she has worked for him, and what he sees when he looks at her. Did he take her looks into account when he gave her the job?

I shake my head. I’m being ridiculous. Besides, one of his many employees probably handled the hiring process.

Why am I worrying about Cynthia anyway? Who cares what he sees when he looks at her? He chose me, not anyone else. Some of these gorgeous women have been working for him for years and he didn’t pick them. I should focus on that and let the rest go.

Cynthia throws him a glance over her shoulder as she sashays away. Another secret thought forces its way into my mind, demanding attention.

Has he had any kind of relationship with her? Does she know how his body feels between the sheets?

I blink away the uncomfortable thoughts. He has his past, so do I. There is absolutely no reason for me to feel insecure. He hasn’t given me that reason and I shouldn’t give it to myself.

Winston shifts his gaze from Cynthia to me. “Are you okay, baby?”

I put a confident smile on my face. “Oh, yes. Couldn’t be better.”

“You sure? You look like you have a lot on your mind.”

I look out the window at the fluffy, white clouds. “Not at all. I’m just a bit sad that we’re leaving the Maldives. I had the best time.”

“Look at me,” he says and I do. “The Maldives is only a tiny piece of the world puzzle, a world full of endless beauty. There are places even more beautiful. Wait till I take you to Asia.”

“I’ve always wanted to see Asia,” I say.

“Good. We could go to Bali for our honeymoon. How does that sound?”

“I’d love that.” My mind takes me back to the past. “As kids, me and my sister had fantasized about traveling to Asia, to immerse ourselves into a completely different culture. I never thought that dream would one day come true.” When I told him about my sister, he could have used the opportunity to tell me about his brother.

“I’m glad to be the one making your dreams come true.”

I give him a small nod. “I guess they do.”

Cynthia returns with our drinks. I sip mine while Winston drinks a plain glass of water. I’ve never met anyone who drinks as much water as he does. It’s for sure his preferred drink, especially during a meal. Now and then he’ll have a whiskey or wine, but it’s rare.

I take another sip of juice, then lower the glass onto the polished wooden side table to my right. “How was it growing up as an only child?” I blurt out. “Did you ever wish you had a sibling?”

Winston goes silent for far too long and I wish I could shove the words back down my throat. Where the hell did that come from? I had promised myself to let go of the conversation I’d heard. Now this. My mind has a habit of doing what it wants sometimes.

“Actually”—Winston rubs the side of his face—“I do have a brother.”

My throat tightens and a wave of heat rushes through my body. “You...you have a brother?”

“I do.” He massages the bridge of his nose. “His name is Travis. We’re twins.” He looks back at me, his eyes unreadable. “I must have told you.”

“You didn’t.” I try hard to keep my voice calm. My hands are shaking as I pick up my glass and raise it to my lips, take a long swallow of the liquid, wishing it could quell the anger burning the back of my throat. “Why? Why have you not told me?”

He leans forward, his hands on his knees. “I thought I did, surely I did.”

“I’d remember if you did.” He means so much to me that I’d never forget he has a brother, let alone a twin.

“Jenna, there’s no way I did not tell you.” His eyes don’t waver. He really believes what he’s saying.

“You didn’t tell me.” I clear my throat. “And it’s been six months.”

“We haven’t really been dating. We had both agreed to keep it our little secret, remember?” He cocks his head to one side. “Until now, of course.”

Until now. Until he lies to me. My alarm bells have gone off again, triggering a headache.

I swallow my disappointment. “I know but—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. You know now. That’s all that matters.”

But what else are you keeping from me? How can I trust you’ll always tell me the truth after this?

Maybe I’m making this more of a big deal than it should be, but I don’t think so. He’s a twin, for God’s sake. What kind of person forgets to talk about his twin?

“How is he...your brother?” I try to keep my disappointment from my tone.

A shadow crosses his features and his eyes darken. “Very different from me.”

“In what way?”

“Let’s just say he’s a bit of a wild card.” He flips open his laptop. “I’ll arrange for you to meet him, okay?”

With that, he starts working on his laptop, oblivious to the annoyed looks I’m giving him.

“Fine,” I say in a low, broken voice, but he still doesn’t look up.

My stomach is a bundle of nerves as I sit back, trying not to pant with frustration.

I hate that the wonderful feelings I brought with me from the Maldives have been erased by one single conversation. I hate that he’s acting as if what we were talking about is not even a big deal. Worse, he makes me feel as though it’s me who’s the liar.

“I don’t get how you could not mention you have a twin brother.”

Winston’s head snaps up, his face tight. “I said I’ll introduce you to him when we get back. I don’t see what the big deal is. Some siblings are not close. It’s nothing new.”

“You know that’s not the point, Winston. Close or not, he’s still your brother, and I’m your fiancée. I deserve to know, don’t you think? And not by chance.”

“What do you want me to do, Jenna?” He leans forward, his eyes clouded now. “Do you want me to beg for forgiveness? Is that it?”

I raise my shoulders and let them fall again. “Maybe. You lied to me.”

“For God’s sake.” His expression closes up. “Look, I don’t have time for this. I have a lot of work to do before we get back to New York.”

“And I’m disturbing you?” I draw in slow, steady breaths to keep my anger under control. “Fine, I’ll shut up. That’s what you want me to do, right?”

“I’d never use those words on you.”

I give a tight laugh. “You don’t need to.”

I look away, my eyes stinging with tears. He says nothing more as he clacks away on his precious laptop. We’re not even married yet and we’re acting like we’ve been married for years. He really spoiled a good moment.

I consider telling him I overheard him talking to his brother and he should have told me then after the phone call, but my gut warns me it would be a mistake. Maybe I should let it go. At least he told me now and he promised to introduce me to him.

I finish my juice in silence and try to ignore the tight knot in the pit of my stomach. I’m the kind of person who likes to talk through problems.

I reach for my bag and pull out a novel. Instantly I remember the book he threw away because he didn’t like me reading it. The memory makes me want to burst. But I can’t confront him again.

Winston’s face is still tight. He’s clearly as pissed off as I am. Even though he has no right to be.

I toss the novel onto the empty space next to me and recline my seat. I consider going to the bedroom, to get away from him, but that would be childish. I close my eyes instead and think of myself in my wedding dress, wishing it could cheer me up. It doesn’t work.