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“I’ll be home next week, I promise.”
Carter’s voice is a low murmur, the kind reserved for someone special. Someone he cares about.
“I love you, too, sweetheart. You know you mean everything to me.”
My throat tightens. The sheets feel suffocating now.
“I promise I won’t miss it, okay? Alright.”
I don’t hear the other side of the conversation, but I don’t need to.
I’ve heard enough. I press a hand to my mouth to keep quiet, my heart hammering so loud I swear it could echo through the walls. I lie back down slowly, curling onto my side with my back to the door.
A few moments later, the hallway light clicks off. The floor creaks under his steps. He doesn’t come straight to bed. He pauses in the doorway. I feel him watching me. Then the mattress dips behind me. Sheets rustle. His breathing evens out beside me.
He thinks I’m asleep. And I wish I was. Because I don’t know what hurts more—how real it all felt, or how stupid I was to believe it could’ve been.
My heart feels like it’s folding in on itself. I keep my breathing steady, my back to him, every muscle in my body tight and still. I don’t move. Don’t flinch. Don’t say a word. Because if I do, I might scream.
All that talk. All those stolen looks. That ridiculous pineapple drink. He said I make things complicated, that he came here for peace. But now I know the truth. He already has someone waiting for him.
Someone he loves. And that damn sure isn’t me.
CHAPTER 8
Carter
She slept in my arms. Soft. Warm. Glowing from the inside out.
We’d said everything without saying a word. Her body melted into mine like we were made for this moment—this storm, this goddamn beautiful accident of proximity that feels like fate instead of coincidence.
The storm had let up just enough to let light through the windows, but I barely noticed it. My mind was still stuck on her—the way she clung to me last night, the way her lips parted when I kissed down her stomach, the sound she made when she came undone around me.
I haven’t felt like this in years. Like maybe, just maybe, I’m not completely numb anymore. I carefully slip out of bed and grab my phone on the way to the kitchen. It vibrates just as I do—a missed call. Again.
Dani. She never calls twice unless it’s important.
I step out onto the deck and call her back, keeping my voice low.
“Hi, Dani. Everything okay?” Her voice is hushed and a little rushed. “Yes—sorry to bother you, Mr. Volcor. Just a small issue, nothing urgent. I wanted to check in before it turned into anything bigger.”
“Appreciate it,” I say, glancing through the window at Ivy’s sleeping form. “Thanks for handling it.” “Of course. We’ve got it covered. Enjoy the rest of your trip.” I hang up, rub the back of my neck, and head for the shower. I’ll grab us some breakfast, clear my head. Maybe plan the next ten minutes like I’m not completely spinning from last night.
When I get to the bed, it’s empty. I frown. “Ivy?” No answer.
The bathroom, deck, and other side of the suite—empty. The door is slightly open. My stomach clenches. I head downstairs and spot a staff member arranging towels. “The woman I’m staying with—did she leave?”
He blinks. “Yes, sir. She joined the shopping shuttle about five minutes ago. Seems like she was in a rush, she almost missed it.” Just like that. No note. No text. Gone.
***
Some time later, I’m still pacing the bungalow like a man unraveling. Was last night just convenience? A mistake? Or am I missing something obvious?
When the keycard beeps and the door swings open, I whip around. She steps in, fresh-faced, her hair up, bags in hand like she’s just returned from a spa day.
“Ivy,” I say, the knot in my chest loosening—only to tighten again. “You left.”
“Yeah,” she says, breezy. “The front desk said the shuttles were running while the weather was calm. Figured I’d grab a few things.”