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The moment we step off the jet, the thick, balmy air of the Caribbean hits us, warm and salted with the scent of the ocean.
The sun hangs low in the sky, casting everything in golden light, and the rhythmic sound of waves rolling onto the shore is a steady backdrop to the otherwise peaceful scene. It’s the kind of place people dream about.
And yet, all I can focus on is Annie.
She’s walking beside me, sunglasses perched on her nose, her blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. The slight breeze tugs at the hem of her sundress, and if I weren’t watching her so closely, I wouldn’t notice how she keeps pressing a hand to her stomach when she thinks no one is looking.
When we’d first arrived at the airport and were driving along the tarmac, Annie had been incredibly impressed. Her jaw had nearly dropped seeing it.
And I’ll be honest, it had made me quite proud—maybe a bit smug—to see her reaction, to hear her gush as we drove up to it. To know that I could give her a dream vacation.
But then she’d stepped out of the limo, and that’s when things had gone wrong. I thought maybe she had nerves, but I saw how pale she got on the plane, the way she turned greener by the minute as we ascended.
She barely said a word the entire flight, sipping ginger ale like it was the only thing keeping her upright. And the second the seatbelt sign turned off, she bolted to the bathroom and threw up.
She hadn’t said anything about it, but it was pretty damn obvious.
Not exactly the reaction I’d hoped for when bringing her on this trip.
Now, she looks a little better—some color has returned to her face—but I don’t like how quiet she is. Annie isn’t quiet. She’s expressive, chatty, full of energy. Right now, she’s subdued.
And that doesn’t sit right with me.
“Still feeling sick?” I ask, keeping my voice even as we step onto the dock where a sleek black SUV waits for us.
She shakes her head quickly. “No, I’m okay. Just—” she hesitates, then forces a smile. “Maybe I’m not the best flyer.”
I don’t believe her. Not entirely. But I don’t press.
Instead, I glance at Robbie, who is practically bouncing with excitement as he tugs on my sleeve.
“Dad, look!”He points toward the beach, eyes wide. “The water is so blue! Can we go swimming right now?”
“Let’s get to the house first,” I say, ruffling his hair. “Then we’ll talk about it.”
Robbie huffs but doesn’t argue. He’s too distracted by everything around him.
Annie, on the other hand, is silent again, taking in the scenery as the driver loads our bags into the SUV.
I watch her from the corner of my eye, waiting for some sort of reaction. I knew she’d be impressed—most people are when they see this place—but I was looking forward to seeing it on her face.
Finally, as we climb into the car and the driver pulls away, she exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head.
“Okay, I have to admit,” she murmurs, “this is insane.”
I smirk, leaning back against the leather seat. “Yeah?”
She turns to me, lifting her sunglasses to the top of her head so I can see the full effect of her wide, disbelieving eyes. “Cole. You own an island.”
I shrug. “Technically, yes.”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who could say that sentence so casually.”
“Most people I know can.”
She rolls hereyes but smiles. At least that’s back.
“Okay, but—” She gestures out the window. “Do you even use it? Like, do you come here a lot?”