The girls have all taken seats around a table when I enter the cabin. I approach, thankful that they’re at one end of the cabin, and that Will and I will have some relative privacy at the other end. “I need to ask Will some questions about exactly what happened last night. I’ll wave to you guys if I need a rescue or something.”

Anna nods. “A bird call or smoke signal would be appropriate.”

“Noted,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face.

Will comes into the cabin, and I gesture with my head to the other end of the plane. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.”

I take a seat near a window at the back of the plane, and he sits across from me. “I need you to tell me what happened last night. What I said, what exactly happened. Because I agreed to give this a shot, but I can’t do that if I keep getting blindsided by stuff like ‘getting married was your idea.’”

“That seems fair,” Will says, settling forward with his elbows on his knees. “Tell me how much you remember.”

I lean forward too, and now are faces are close and I’m distracted by the scent of his cologne and the proximity of his lips. “I remember the club, and the private room, and everything that happened in there.” A blush creeps up my cheeks, but I have to get through this. “I remember your hotel room, and the sex. At least the first two times we had it. After that it gets a bit fuzzy. If I try hard I can remember glimpses of champagne. Nothing after that until the morning.”

“Where you saw your ring while you had my cock in your mouth?” My cheeks turn even brighter, and he reaches out to stroke his fingers down one. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I’m just not…I’m not used to talking about sex so openly.”

“Hopefully that will change,” he grins. “You’re right. When your memory goes fuzzy is when we ordered room service. You were hungry. While we ate and drank, you told me more about yourself. You told me that you’re from New York, and while you live in the city, your family is from Long Island. You told some funny stories about you and your sister, and the fact that you love Mexican food.” His voice falters and he looks at me, and I feel a sense of dread, like what he’s going to say next isn’t good.

“You told me about your relationship with Wyatt, and about everything that happened. How you didn’t see it coming, and how broken-hearted you were. Are.” He swallows. “You cried. I did my best to comfort you, even though I think what I did was far from adequate. And when you were finished, you said that just being married was one of the things you were looking forward to most. The normalcy of it.”

I laugh to hide my anger that I broke down like that. That I let Wyatt get to me, and because now I’m married and there isn’t anything normal about it.

“And that’s when the idea hit you. You lit up like a firework, and you said that we should get married. I already knew that I liked you, that I liked you more than anyone I had met in a long time, and down in my gut I knew it was a good idea, so I said yes. I took you to the jewelry store, they opened it for us because I own the hotel, and I let you pick the ring you wanted.” He takes my hand and turns it so that the diamond sparkles in the light from the window. “Like I told you, we couldn’t get matching rings right away, but you didn’t care. We went straight to the chapel. It was fast, but sweet. We kissed, signed the papers. When we got back to the hotel, I carried you inside.”

There’s a little bit of emotion in his voice. “I made love to you, and we fell asleep together. You remember everything else.”

I clear my throat. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m sorry you don’t remember,” he says, “I really am. I wish you did, because you were so happy. I wish there was a way to show you.”

“No,” I say. “I believe you.”

Will’s thumb runs along the edge of my palm, the tiny intimate gesture sending shivers across my skin. “Have you ever had a feeling so deep and so strong that you knew with everything in you that what you were doing was right?”

“I thought so. I was wrong.” So dreadfully wrong. And now my sister is fucking my ex-fiancé and I’m married to a millionaire.

He looks down at our connected hands. “I know that this isn’t what you really want, but I have that feeling about us. I feel it, deeper than I’ve ever felt anything, that we fit together. Thank you for giving it a chance.”

I nod, drawn in by his words. When he says things like that, it’s so easy to believe it. “I want to feel what you’re feeling. I want to be that sure about someone. About you. But after Wyatt, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to feel that sure again.”

Will’s hand comes up to cup my face. “I’ll do my best to prove it to you for as long as you’ll let me. Will you let me do that?”

“Yes.” It’s not quite the same as I do, but I feel the bond of commitment as I say the word. We’re going to try this. A wholly unconventional marriage between strangers.

“Can I kiss you?”

The way he asks, soft and not entirely sure, makes my heart flutter in my chest. I nod, and he closes the small distance between us to press his lips to mine. I can feel the emotion behind his kiss, that he’s grateful I’m not leaving, that I’m giving him a chance. I can feel how desperately he wants this. Wants us.

A phone chime interrupts our kiss, and Will pulls away apologetically. “Should I have some champagne brought out for you and your friends?”

“More champagne? How can I resist? I am on a private plane after all.”

He gins at me, pulling his phone from his pocket as he stands and heads into a cabin behind me. I feel much more settled after our conversation, and since I’m here, I might as well enjoy it. With that thought in my head, I head toward the front of the plane to join my friends.