“For the record, you cannot move too fast for me. I am all in, all yours. I’m here, Hen. Ready and waiting.”

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, his tongue slowly sliding through my lips. “I truly love you,” he whispers. “I’m trying to be better; I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I am.”

The emotion behind his words brings tears to my eyes. “I know, baby.” I kiss him softly and want to lighten the mood. “So what time are we getting married tomorrow?”

He breaks into a breathtaking smile. “Don’t even joke. I’m feeling unhinged enough to actually want to do it.”

We fall serious as we stare at each other, the air swirling between us.

So ask me, then.

“Promise me something,” I whisper.

“Anything.” He kisses me softly.

“If you have a moment where you freak out . . . you just say, Juliet, I’m having a moment.”

His eyes hold mine.

“That way, I’ll know where your head is at, because when you pull away from me in the middle of things . . . it’s upsetting.”

He thinks for a moment and eventually nods. “Okay.” He rolls onto his side, facing me, his fingers sliding through my sex.

His touch is different now. My Henley is back, his tenderness returned. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispers as if pained. “I didn’t mean to . . . Did I hurt you?”

“Shh,” I soothe him. I kiss him softly. “It’s okay, baby. No, you didn’t. I’ve got you.”

He rolls over me, and his body slides deep into mine. “Let me make it up to you,” he murmurs against my lips. “I’m sorry.” He slowly pumps me.

And right here on the floor, in the middle of the night, Henley James makes sweet slow love to me for the first time.

“I love you too.”

I was scared before . . . but now, I’m terrified.

This has to work out because I can’t lose him.

Ever.

The night markets are abuzz with activity, and Henley and I amble along, soaking in the atmosphere. It’s been a great day, the best.

We walk into a shell stall and look around; Henley picks up a huge white shell and smiles as he looks down at it. “My mom used to love these shells.”

“Did she?”

That’s the first time he has ever mentioned what she was like.

“Yeah.” He puts it back on the shelf.

“Can we get it?” I ask.

“Why would you want that?”

“Because your mom would love to have a shell at my place,” I say casually as I keep looking around.

He scrunches his nose.

“I’m going to get it.” I take it to the counter and pay the lady as he waits outside the store. Eventually I join him. “I got it.” I smile.

He nods. “Okay.” We start ambling back up the street.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever been to grief therapy . . . you know, specifically about your mom?”

“No point,” he says as he looks around. “My mom died. Lots of people’s moms die. I’ve done enough therapy already.”

“You know, I’ve done some research. There’s a place called Camp Angel. It’s a specific facility where they treat grief.” This place is hardcore. They don’t let you out until you are on your way to a full recovery.

“Why would I want to go there?”

“So you can face your demons.”

“I don’t need to go to a camp to do that.” He smiles, amused. “I face them every day.”

Oh . . .

“Just a thought.” I shrug.

He puts his arm around me, and we keep shopping. He digs into his pocket and answers his phone with a smile. “Hi, Jen.”

Ugh . . . fucking Jenny. She’s called him every day, and it has had nothing to do with work.

“Yeah?” He listens as I pretend not to. “Beach day today.” He listens again and then laughs.

My inner jealous bitch rears her ugly head. We walk through the shops as he happily chats away with her while holding my hand.

I know he’s innocent. He wouldn’t be so happy to talk to her with me here if he wasn’t.

Her . . . I don’t trust for a second.

I wind my finger in the air to signify to wind it up.

“I’ve got to go, Jen.”

“I miss you,” I hear her say.

“Yeah, you too.” He smiles as he hangs up.

She misses him.

Ugh . . . fuck off, Jenny.

“You think you know someone,” I call up the hill.

Henley chuckles as he turns back toward me. “Come on, woman.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were an extreme sportsman?” I pant and puff as I drag myself up the hill.

“Athlete.” He winks. “I’m an elite athlete.”

“Ugh.” I put my hands on my hips to try and make the hill feel less steep. You know that lying-in-the-sun-and-relaxing vacation I had planned out in my head?

Turns out it isn’t this one. Henley James can’t relax.

“I need a vacation to get over my vacation,” I puff.

“Stop whining, or I’ll stuff your mouth.”

“With what?” I call as I climb.

He grabs his crotch. “Dick.”

I giggle. We’ve been motorbike riding, kayaking, mountain climbing, parasailing, bike riding. You name it—we’ve done it.

We get up in the morning and have a relaxing breakfast and go for a leisurely swim. Then somehow, he talks me into being some extreme-parkour kind of person.

We do random adrenaline things all day until finally we get to relax on the beach in the late afternoon.

He walks back down the hill and grabs my hand and begins to pull me up along with him, and I smile goofily.

Who am I kidding? This is the best vacation of my life.

Action hero all day, making sweet love all night.

“It’s just up here,” he says as he looks at a map on his phone.

“What is?”

“A surprise.”

“Oh.” I hunch my shoulders in excitement. “I do like surprises.”

He turns back toward me and pulls a black silk eye mask out of his pocket. “Put this on.”

My heart skips a beat.

“What?”

He puts the eye mask on me and takes my hand and leads me up the hill some more.

What’s happening?

“I love surprises.” I smile.

“Do you?” He plays along.

Oh my god, is this . . . this is the best day of all time.

What’s the surprise?

Is he going to . . .

“Ta-da.” He lifts the mask.

I look around. There’s a sheer cliff face and a zip line. A man is waiting with two harnesses.

My face falls in horror. “No, no, no.” I step backward. “Henley, you are on drugs if you think I’m doing that.”

His eyes twinkle with mischief. “You can do it.”

“I could,” I splutter with bulging eyes. “But I don’t want to.”

He chuckles and takes my face in his hands and kisses me softly. “You said you love surprises.”

When I think you are proposing, you dickhead.

“Not. This kind,” I splutter.

“Babe, it’s fine. This is going to be amazing.”