It was dark. I couldn’t see. What was happening in there? Was everything all right? Had it been ruined? What if all that work was for nothing? I felt queasy. I didn’t know how I was going to face Vaughn if I had destroyed it.

I flipped on the light and sighed.

“Thank God.” I felt the tension ease from my shoulders and back.

“Everything ok?” Vaughn walked into the kitchen. He dropped a grape into his mouth.

I nodded, opening the oven door. “It’s perfect.”

“Let me get that.” He hustled me out of the way and snatched the oven mitts. I watched as he slid the golden turkey onto the counter. It was crispy in just the right spots.

I grinned.

“Now that’s a Thanksgiving turkey,” he praised the bird.

My hands settled on the sarong that draped around my hips. “It does look good, doesn’t it?”

He eyed me. “I couldn’t be prouder,” he teased.

I slapped his bare chest with the kitchen towel. “Hey, I worked hard for us to have a normal Thanksgiving.”

“I just like that you were willing to cook everything in a bikini.”

I twisted my lips together. It was far from conventional, but at least this year there was a meal that resembled something familiar. Although we were back on another island. This time it was our island. Our home.

I lifted the pineapple from the bowl of fruit.

“When are you going to take a break?” he asked.

“After I cut this pineapple and heat the bread. And oh, I still have potatoes to mash.”

“I think you need to reassess your priorities, Mrs. West.”

I squealed when he scooped me into his arms, tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of sugar, and carried me away from the hours of meal prep.

I kicked. “Put me down. I’m not finished.”

“No, I’m the one who isn’t finished,” he growled. “You were out of bed way too early this morning. I don’t like it when I have to wait.”

I landed on the bed with a bounce. He crawled on top of me, pinning my wrists together with one hand while the other loosened the knot on the sarong. My back arched as he slid the bikini bottoms off my thighs.

“I had work to do,” I explained. “I wanted to do something for you.” My breath hitched in my throat. He had that look in his eyes. The hungry one. The smolder that made my body react on a transcendent level.

“Now it’s my turn.” The darkness in his voice made my belly flip. Oh shit, I loved it when he was like this. I hadn’t expected it in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner.

His kiss was possessive as his mouth covered mine. My lips parted and our tongues twined. He was on a mission. He wasn’t going to let me out of this bed until he had what he wanted.

“You know how much I love to fuck my wife.”

I nodded. “As much as she loves it.” I bit my bottom lip. I didn’t think I’d ever be tired of hearing that word: wife.

It had been almost ten months since we left Paris. And nine since we had been married. Really married. A ceremony. An elegant white dress and a bouquet of white orchids. There were vows. There was music. There was an incredible honeymoon—one that landed us here on this island.

“Don’t move,” he ordered while he stepped off the bed and kicked his board shorts to the other side of the room. He had surfed earlier this morning. All the days in the sun made his skin a beautiful bronze. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him.

I was as still as a deer trying to blend into the woods. I held my breath, but I couldn’t control the way my heart raced when I saw my husband’s gorgeous body. Or the way my core ached for him to soothe it. Or the way my lips felt heavy without his kisses. All the impulses were beyond reason when I knew Vaughn was about to fuck me.

He moved over me steadily. His strong hands clenched my waist.

“Oomph.”

He flipped me on my stomach. I suddenly felt the ties loosen on my top and the rest of the bathing suit was gone. Vaughn cupped my breasts, massaging them as I wiggled my hips back and forth. I baited him. Lured him. Ever pluck of my nipples made me wetter. Needier.

“Fuck,” he groaned, yanking my hair in his hand.

I smiled at him over my shoulder. He winked. God, we were good together.

We had always been good together. From the first kiss outside the D.C. restaurant. From sex on the landing in my apartment building. From the vineyard to the abandoned office in Paris. We had always been a sexual explosion waiting to ignite. The matches were us. I could light him on fire as easily as he could torch me to the ground with one orgasm.

The sunlight filtered in through the wooden blinds. Fan blades spun overhead.

My knees spread wide as Vaughn touched his cock to my heat. I moaned.

He thrust inside me and I kicked back to meet the force of his body. I stretched around the thickness of his shaft.

“Oh shit,” I hissed, not ready for him to go so deep so fast, but there he was. Blinding me with jolts of white lightning. The kind of intensity that seared us together. Forever.

“Oh baby,” he grunted, working up a sweat as he pumped in and out.

I clawed at the bed for more friction. For a base to launch myself. I could take it. Go deeper. Go harder. These were the days I was reminded how amazing it was to be in bed with my husband. Whether it was the middle of a holiday. Or after midnight. Or after we had spent a day working in the yard. After dinner. Before coffee. In the shower. Out of the shower. Our bodies had and always would be bound in a way that was indescribable.

I felt my core quiver and vibrate.

“It’s too much,” I whimpered. I was going to shatter in a glittery orgasm. One of those Eiffel Tower orgasms. I knew what his reponse would be.

“It’s not enough,” he grunted.

“Ohh.” I panted for the climax to hit me. It was already spiraling. Consuming me in flames that licked my veins.

Vaughn rammed his cock one last time, hilting himself inside me as we both screamed out from the pleasure and the pain. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak as the orgasm canvased my skin and numbed my toes.

He pumped his release inside me, only taking our bodies to the bed when he was finished. Complete.

“Mmm. I love fucking you.” He kissed my temple.

I curled my knees against me and rolled toward his chest. “Well, I actually love you,” I teased.

He laughed. “I love you too, smartass. The act and the feeling.” He smacked my bottom playfully.

“You were so deep,” I added. My body was still heated. Still coated in a thin layer of perspiration.

“You ok?” he asked. “Was it too much?”

I shook my head. “You realize if I get pregnant on the first try we aren’t going to have much practice time.”

He laughed. “Now you’re complaining I’m too good at getting you pregnant?”

I giggled. “I didn’t say that.”

I didn’t want to move. I wanted to lie in bed for the rest of the day, but it was Thanksgiving and I was determined to start our real married life with actual traditions. Raise our children in a family that celebrated and came together. We had a long way to go to bring our parents and siblings into the fold, but Vaughn had a plan for that. I trusted him it would take time to make the pieces fit. Timing was everything. Agent Kenneth hadn’t given up looking for both of us.

Although we had left the FBI a gift. It took weeks for us to finally get the information on how the Sunday after we left played out. In those weeks it was hard to think about anything other than whether our planned worked. I had lost another five pounds, unable to eat or sleep.

But my husband was a mastermind. Brilliant, really. Agent Kenneth, unable to find us at the hotel, traced our steps back to the flat. Instead of raiding it, he waited. I always wondered if he had been too exhausted from traveling. Maybe it was an accident, after all. What if he had just happened to fall asleep on our couch? It doesn’t matter, because he was there when Blackwing came for the documents in the wine fridge closet. In one swoop, he got everything: two members of Blackwing and an entire closet full of secret documents. Documents that exposed Blackwing’s plan to target Paul Auclair for the sale of his formulas.

Vaughn had detailed the espionage and Riker’s ultimate use for Paul’s research. Masking drug use. Altering athlete performance. Rigging competition on a national and international scale. It was a huge story no matter where you were in the world. Riker collapsed. Agent Kenneth gained notoriety he wasn’t looking for.

We sailed on, pleased the plan had come together. My only regret was that Eloise wasn’t the one captured. She was still out there.

Vaughn kissed my shoulder. “What can I do to help you with dinner?” he asked.

“We aren’t going back in the kitchen until we both take showers,” I lectured. “You taste like salt.” I licked his chest with the tip of my tongue. “Mmm.” I grinned. “Showers and then I’ll let you mash the potatoes.”

“Got it.” He rolled out of bed and started the water.

I liked our bedroom. There wasn’t a fancy chandelier or vanity that cost two thousand dollars. The furniture was white and most of the décor came from things we bought on the island. I dragged myself out of bed and padded off to the shower, passing my favorite piece of art in the room.

I stopped and stared at it for a few seconds. Aubrey’s signature was scrawled across the bottom. It had been a surprise from Vaughn for my birthday. He wanted to mark twenty-nine with something significant. He knew I couldn’t let Kate Birch go completely. How could I?

I never knew if Aubrey received my letter. I wanted to believe it brought her some sense of solace if she ever read it. I did read online that she opened her gallery, and on the first night of her showing she sold all her canvases to benefit the children’s home in Paris.

By the time I opened the door, the steam funneled into the bedroom. The water was hot. Vaughn was waiting in the shower.

I stepped under the stream.

“Are you going out for Black Friday shopping, tomorrow?” he asked.

I huffed. “In Hana? Funny.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you want to drive over to Lahaina. You haven’t been to that side of the island in a few weeks.”

“It’s so far,” I whined. “I think I’ll stay home and watch football with my sexy husband instead.”

He laughed. “Huge football fan suddenly?”

“Since I’m married to the high school coach, yes.”

He wrapped his arms around me. My nipples pressed into the hard planes of his chest. The water splashed off his sturdy shoulders.

“We had a horrible season.”

I kissed his chest, chasing droplets on his skin. The salt had washed down the drain “It will get better,” I answered. “It was your first year.”

“Thanks, babe, but my feelings aren’t hurt. They need conditioning. Training.”

“I don’t know anyone better to give them that kind of discipline than you.” It only took one look at his body to know the man had figured out how to master a healthy workout regimen.

“Yes, because surfing, running, and coaching are tough.”

“Hey.” I turned his chin to me. “Those kids do look up to you. I know you see it. I know you feel it when you’re around them.”

He grabbed the body wash. “I do. But it’s not quite the same as devising a plan to liquidate billions in oil money.”

“No. It’s not. But it’s more valuable.” I smiled.

“And that’s why you’re the light, baby.” He cupped my breasts, and brought his mouth over mine. I groaned at the kiss. “You’re the damn sun in my soul. You know that? I need you to remind me every day. Every fucking day, baby.”

I nodded. “I will. I won’t stop.”

There was always a shadow in the recesses of my mind that would haunt me at night. I had dreams that Vaughn would get pulled back to Blackwing. But every morning I awakened and he was there. Making breakfast. Surfing on the beach. Researching high school football plays and drinking coffee. He was always there.

So as much as I was his light, he was mine. We reminded each other how easy it was to slip back to the darkness. We held on to each other, so that never happened again.

We lathered each other in bubbles and rinsed off before stepping out of the shower. There were still last minute tasks in the kitchen. I looked through the drawers for my pineapple knife. It was the one I always used to cut the husk off the fruit.

This kitchen didn’t come close to the Paris kitchen. It was small. The appliances were ten years old, but that was common for this part of the island. We had drawn plans to renovate. This time, I would decorate for us—not for appearances, not for Blackwing.

There were no major stores in Hana. There was one school, that looked like something out of a movie. It was where Vaughn coached in the afternoons. I had been shocked the first time I saw it. Even more surprised when he said he wanted to coach.

This part of the island suited us. On the other side of Maui, it was busier. There was a Wal-Mart, a Bed Bath & Beyond, and Home Depot. When we needed something, we could make the drive, but I liked the rutted dirt roads and the privacy of the village. We were Americans living in the U.S. We liked to tell people we were trying a nomadic lifestyle and fell in love with the rustic simplicity of this side of the island. It was believable. Much easier to sell than trying to convince French farmers or Greek fishermen that we belonged in an untouched part of Europe. Hawaii had been the perfect solution all along. There was tourist traffic, but nothing like what the huge hotels and resorted dealt with at Ka’anapali Beach. For the most part, it was remote and removed from large crowds.

“Found it.” I held up the knife.

“I’ll do the cutting.” Vaughn took the knife from my hand and produced a kona cutting board.

“Fine.” I started the water to boil the potatoes. “Want me to turn up the game for you?”

“Has anyone told you how hot it is that you pretend to like football?”

I grinned. “Funny. I’ll get the remote.”

I walked into the study off the kitchen. The rooms were connected like a big puzzle. Whoever had built the house had continued to make additions over the years. By the time we bought it, it was a maze, but I loved the quirkiness. Even more than that, I loved all the glass on the backside of the house that looked out to the ocean. The entire front view was thick foliage, but on this side, it was nothing but spectacular views. It was my calm. My peace.

The remote was lying on my desk. I glanced at my tablet as I reached for the remote.

Holy shit. I picked up both and jogged back to the kitchen.

“You aren’t going to believe this.”

“What?” Vaughn’s hands were covered in pineapple. He licked his thumb. “What is it?”

“My book just hit the top twenty.” I stared at him, stunned. “It’s number twenty of the charts. Holy shit.” I was stunned.

“Fucking incredible, babe. Your second one.”

I bit my lip and placed the tablet on the table. “I never thought they would do that well. It was such a long-shot to publish them on my own.” I increased the volume on the flat screen so Vaughn could hear the game. I tied an apron around my waist to start peeling potatoes.

“I don’t know why you thought that. Your students always loved you. Anyone who started reading was going to have the same experience.”

I rinsed the first potato under the faucet. “I thought not having the ability to write with my real name would diminish my credibility, but no one cares that it’s a pen name.”

“Because what you have to say is real. Who cares what your name is?” He whacked the top of the pineapple off. “You’re still studying, writing, advising law. That’s all that matters.” He paused. “And your happy.”

“I am. I love what I’m doing. I love the case research. And the more people who read about these obscure forgotten cases, the more I can help people who need this kind of support.” I scraped the skin off the potato. “It’s better than being at American University. And I am in control of my schedule. No Metro.” I smiled.

Vaughn laughed. “No more Metro.”

At first, I was terrified someone would try to figure out my identity. Writing under a pen named seemed like an invitation for a hacker to try to discover who I was. But the more research I did, the more I realized, no one cared. I received active messages and questions from readers, but I handled all of those through my legal blog. And Sheldon, who I had doubted at first, was instrumental in keeping us off the radar. Vaughn and I even joked about flying him to Hawaii for a vacation. The kid needed some sunlight. He had to get out of that theater basement.

As for Lana Foley, her case imploded. She was the first of twenty women to step forward and out Senator Mitcherson. Not being able to help her through to the end was my biggest regret. I realized Lana didn’t need me. She only needed someone to listen. Someone to take her case seriously. And thank God, there were women and men out there who were willing to do just that. I had to sit on the sidelines and applaud everything they could do for her, that I couldn’t. I gave up the right to participate in that fight.

Vaughn piled the pineapple slices and turned around. He ran his hands under the sink before wrapping his hands around my waist. “Did you ever see this? Us here? You writing. Me coaching. Our big beautiful house on the cliff by the ocean.” He kissed my neck. “And making a baby this soon.”

I shook my head. “No. I couldn’t see it. I didn’t know how we were going to make this happen, but maybe the baby part is the most surprising of all.” I giggled.

It seemed as if once we started talking about it, we couldn’t stop. It was baby, baby, baby. Vaughn was older, but it wasn’t as if mid-thirties for a guy was a biological clock issue. For me, I was nearing thirty. It was something to think about, but I wasn’t worried that we were going to age out of being parents. I never had been. It was something that lingered between us ever since we escaped Paris.

We had left Blackwing. We were successful in something that never happened before.

Maybe it was that zest. That determination to control our narrative that drove us to start a family this quickly. Maybe it was because once we had each other, we didn’t want to let go. A baby was a tangible product of our love. A symbol that we loved each other with breathless intensity.

Or maybe we were more ordinary than we were ready to admit.

Two extraordinary people who for a little while led a remarkable life. A life that seemed curious and romantic. That was built on mountains of wealth and peaks of lies. Intrigue and government deceit. Were those the kind of people who were meant to be parents? I hadn’t thought so before.

Once the cover was gone, underneath it, we just loved each other. We loved each other like regular ordinary husbands and wives. We were two newlyweds who wanted a baby to complete the picture.

I leaned into Vaughn’s chest. “Last Thanksgiving we were in the Bahamas, running from the feds. This Thanksgiving we’re having our first turkey in our new house. And next year we’re going to be sitting at the table with our baby?”

I felt his chest swell with air. “Don’t scare me, babe. Sometimes it feels fast.”

I gripped his hands at my hips. “I think you are the bravest man I know. You walked through fire for me.” It wasn’t often, but when I thought about what Vaughn had truly risked for us to have this life I was almost brought to my knees.

He could have been captured. Tortured. Sent to prison for the rest of his life. And he took that chance. He stared in the face of the bleakest, grimmest prospect and defied it. For me. For us.

“Of all the things to be afraid of, our baby isn’t one of them,” I reminded him.

“I’m not afraid of the baby. You know that.” He turned me to face him. “I have a lot of mistakes to make up for. There is darkness and ugliness in my life that I don’t want our children to ever know about.”

“They won’t.” I slinked my hands to his neck. “To them, you’re going to be Daddy. All they will know is love. They’re going to grow up on this beautiful island in our beautiful house and live a beautiful happy childhood. Trust me.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re so fucking perfect, Em.”

I smiled. “Not always,” I whispered.

“For me you are.” He kissed me and I forgot about the pot of boiling water, or the rolls. I only wanted to taste the sweet pineapple on his lips and feel his body cover mine.

The rest of Thanksgiving dinner could burn. The football game played in the background, while my husband loved me. And I loved him.