Kennedy can hardly focus for the rest of breakfast, though she does put away an impressive amount of bacon, three English muffins, and so many scrambled eggs that I’m surprised when she reaches for a second helping of fruit salad.

She catches my stunned gaze and her hand freezes in mid-motion, the serving spoon hovering midway between the bowl and her plate, and she gives me a coy look. “Am I not being dainty enough?”

I laugh. “You can eat as much as you want. I didn’t realize you were that hungry, otherwise I’d have had something sent up in the middle of the night.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’d interrupt people in the middle of the night to bring me a snack?”

“I wouldn’t interrupt them. There are staff members on call twenty-four hours a day. That’s what they do.”

“Oh.” She cocks her head to the side, and then continues shoveling the fresh fruit to her plate. “In that case, I usually like s’mores at night.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Not during the day?”

“During the day and during the night. But if I had a choice, those would be my go-to midnight snack every time.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a pain in the ass to get them anywhere in the city. I can never seem to remember to get all the ingredients at once.” She gives me a long look. “Plus, when I’m there, I’m usually sleeping all night, or in the office during the day. I don’t know that executive travel coordinators are supposed to bring plates of s’mores to their desks. They’re kind of messy.”

“You could if you were my executive travel coordinator.” I make a face. “That was supposed to sound sexier than it came out.”

“No chance of that,” Kennedy laughs, picking up her fork and spearing a strawberry. She takes it between her lips—I’m immediately back in the shower, looking down on her wet hair while she wraps those same lips around my cock—and then her gaze becomes unfocused, staring out over the sea.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I want to know what the surprise is.”

“You’re not much for surprises, are you?”

“Not really.” Then she’s grinning, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “But it’s kind of exciting, with you.”

“Kind of?”

“I mean it’s not stressful. I’m not worried that it’s going to be…”

“Something horrible.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Kennedy eats another bite of strawberry. “But something less than ideal.”

Her hair is air-drying in the sunlight, the breeze off the ocean rippling through it. I consider taking a picture with my phone, but it would never be able to capture the way the light makes her hair look fiery one second, coppery the next, and glowing the next one after that. Instead, I stare at her. She catches me, and casts a glance at me with wide eyes. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I tell her, and she blushes a little, looking back down at her plate.

Twenty minutes later, she puts her knife and fork in the center of the plate and pushes it away from her, standing up and stretching. She’s wearing a pair of shorts that cling to her ass, a bikini top, and a white shirt tied in a knot at her waist—all items the personal shopper picked up for her last week so she wouldn’t need to pack. 

“You can do that again,” I tell her, and she laughs, coming around the table to pull me out of my seat.

“Let’s go.”

“Where should we go, pretty thing?”

“To wherever this surprise is, obviously.” Kennedy rolls her eyes. “I don’t know how much longer you can keep me waiting before—”

I put two fingers under her chin and lift her face toward mine, placing a kiss on her lips, conveying everything I’ve been holding back for the entire meal. She gasps when she comes up for air, her blue eyes glittering, her body pressed against me.

“Before something like that happens,” she says, then playfully grabs my hand. “Let’s go!” She tugs at my hand, drawing me back through the bedroom. Halfway to the staircase, she claps a hand against the side of my face. “Don’t look!”

“Don’t look at what?” My entire chest is warm, my heart beating faster with the anticipation of Kennedy’s delight. 

“The bed. Otherwise we’ll end up back in it.”

This woman has thought of everything.

Once we reach the lower floor, Kennedy pauses. “So, where to?”

“This way.”

I take her out toward the path that leads to the helicopter pad, and like I coordinated the whole thing—which I did, though not to this degree—the sound of a helicopter’s blades beating at the air kicks up a notch. I heard it a couple of minutes ago, but Kennedy was still distracted by breakfast. Her eyes go wide. “Who’s landing here today?”

I give a little shrug, like I don’t know and might not particularly care, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face. 

Kennedy narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is someone landing here?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“I thought you rented the entire island.”

“I did.”

“But someone else is coming to join us?”

Her expression keeps rocketing between curiosity and confusion. “Someone else is clearly coming. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a helicopter landing here.”

“Is it—?”

“Let’s go see who it is, shall we?”

Kennedy’s practically vibrating with nervousness now, and a wave of guilt washes over me. Maybe it would have been better to tell her what I had planned so that she could enjoy this moment rather than worrying about who might be on the helicopter. I could tell her a white lie that wouldn’t ruin the surprise—that they’re only here to drop off supplies, something like that—but lying to her feels wrong. I can’t look into her face and lie to her. Not anymore. Not since that first night in the club. That was the only window of opportunity even for small falsehoods. 

She picks up the pace, her sandals falling softly on the trail surface, as we make our way back to where the helicopter is about to touch down. It zooms overhead, the wind from its blades rustling the trees around us. Kennedy looks up, shading her eyes like she might be able to see who is inside from here. Then she presses her lips together and walks even faster.

We arrive at the edge of the landing area as the blades are spinning down. Kennedy stands with her hip cocked to one side, staring determinedly at the helicopter, and I wonder what exactly is going through her mind.

The side door slides open.

At first, all either of us can see is the back of one man in a pressed white shirt, moving carefully out of the helicopter and down to the surface. He’s carrying something in his hands, and slowly they emerge, another man following.

But in the center of them is a young woman in a wheelchair.

Next to me, Kennedy gasps, her entire face lighting up with all the surprise and delight I’d hoped for.

“Gideon!” she cries. She moves toward me, wrapping her arms around me tightly. Then she’s laughing, her face lighting up almost as brightly as the sun. “What did you do?”