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Alexander couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at peace.

Actually, no. That was a lie.

Alexander could pinpoint the exact date and time he felt the same sense of completion. It happened on a lonely ferry dock, back on Sugarplum Island. Things were different then. Elliot was a broken man with no hope for his future. Now he was overflowing with love and laughter.

They spent their entire morning lounging by the pool, laughing with each other, the pair telling stories from their younger days. Later, they attended a show shortly after lunch. As they sat in a small auditorium, just a few rooms down from the dining hall, their hands rested together on the center armrest, fingers intertwined, Elliot’s head on Alexander’s shoulder.

The room roared to life around them, music blasting out of the sound system, spotlights shining shades of blues and purples and impossible pinks. It reminded Alexander of what he saw on Elliot’s user interface when he placed him in stasis the night before. As the music played on, Mrs. Peppercorn took to the stage, launching into an old song about going downtown. As she explained, the lights were much brighter downtown, and how easy it would be to forget all their worries and cares, she twisted and twirled, performing seemingly well-practiced choreography.

“Everything’s waiting for you,” she sang directly to Elliot, approaching slowly, the microphone’s cord stretching to its limit as she walked down the three steps leading to them. When it became evident that the cord wouldn’t reach, she held a hand up, shouting, “Pause, pause, pause!” She glared at the man in charge of the sound system—the man from the storage closet, Rodolfo—and aimed an accusatory finger at him. “What in the world is this about?” She lifted the cord and shook it furiously before turning toward Elliot. “Baby, cover your ears, because you’re about to see a battleaxe at play.”

Elliot turned to Alexander with a confused expression. “I don’t know what that means.”

Alexander quickly shook his head, fearful of Honey Peppercorn’s wrath. He saw her pour an entire bottle of champagne down a potential suitor’s pants for daring to address her as anything other than ma’am. Not wanting Elliot to have to listen to the authoritative tone again, he covered Elliot’s ears with his hands and smiled at him, brushing their noses together.

By the end of her tirade, Mrs. Peppercorn had been given a cordless microphone by Rodolfo, and a glass of lemon rosewater that Alexander watched Mayor Rivera drop two small pink pills into. As Alexander opened his mouth to alert Mrs. Peppercorn that she was about to be drugged by a potentially problematic small-town mayor, Beau shook his head, mouthing, “she needs rest. I gave her two earlier, too.” He lifted a box of over-the-counter allergy medication and discretely waved it back and forth for emphasis. It was an observation Alexander agreed with, because he couldn’t remember Mrs. Peppercorn taking a single moment to rest since arriving on the boat.

“Is he sedating Mrs. Peppercorn?” Elliot asked.

“I believe so.”

Elliot breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. She’s gone off the deep end.”

The music roared to life and Mrs. Peppercorn slowly hobbled her way over until she was standing in front of Elliot, continuing her song with, “You won’t get him, crying and hoping, wishing and dishing—”

“That’s not the song you were singing before you paused for the proverbial cause, Mrs. Peppercorn,” Elliot shouted above the soundtrack, probably wanting to rein her back in. “Actually, I don’t believe those are the lyrics to any song.”

Mrs. Peppercorn nodded, then crouched until she was eye to eye with Elliot, her knees cracking on the descent. “Ah, hell, that hurts,” she groaned before continuing her number. “All you’ve gotta do is kiss him, and love him, and tell him that you’re his. That’s where it is, it’s in his kiss.”

Elliot turned and blinked confusedly at Alexander. “You’re mixing up Dusty Springfield with Cher.” He turned to Alexander looking confused. “I think whatever Mayor Rivera slipped her might be kicking in. She’s officially gone off the deep end,” Elliot observed.

As Mrs. Peppercorn walked around the room, serenading various men without request, Beau Rivera slipped into the empty seat at the other side of the table. Alexander instinctively wrapped an arm around Elliot, and when he looked over, Elliot was smirking. Cheeky boy.

“She’ll be out like a light in another fifteen or twenty minutes. After that, I’ll need help getting her back to her room and into bed.”

“I’ll help,” Alexander agreed.

Beau was staring at Elliot a bit too intensely for Alexander’s liking, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from telling the man off. Alexander had never been a jealous man, but when it came to Elliot—and to the little life inside him—he refused to allow anyone to be a hindrance to his goal of giving them the best life he could ever hope for.

Beau arched an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with me? You’ve been giving me dirty looks at every turn.”

Alexander pulled Elliot closer. “I don’t like the way you look at him. If you’re not flashing those feral eyes, you’re peeking up at him through your luscious lashes—”

“Luscious lashes?” Beau interrupted.

Alexander rolled his eyes. “The point is, you’ve been giving him bedroom eyes since we met. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t throw yourself at him.” He stared down at Elliot, who was resting his head on Alexander’s shoulder. “Unless that’s something you want.” Alexander chewed his bottom lip. “It’s okay if you do. I won’t stand in your way.” The thought of stepping aside killed him.

Elliot peeked up at him and shook his head, burying his face in Alexander’s neck and inhaling deeply. “Only want you,” he whispered.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Beau groaned. “I’m not trying to sleep with your boyfriend. I’m trying to make meaningful gay connections. Back home I don’t have a lot of gay friends , just Arthur and Periwinkle, and I miss having friends who know what it’s like. I may have had a small crush on Elliot when we met, but it’s obvious he’s enamored by you.”

“ He’s still in the room,” Elliot mumbled. “Please don’t talk about me like I’m a piece of furniture.”

Alexander looked down at him, and he felt like a monster, realizing he essentially laid claim to Elliot like he was making a purchase. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Elliot nodded as he sat upright and took a sip of his water before placing the glass back in its place. “I’m not human, but I’m a person. I don’t care for it.”

“Sorry,” Beau apologized, sounding sincere. “I really would like to be friends with you both. I didn’t mean to be rude. Elliot, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Elliot offered Beau a smile. “My last home wasn’t a happy one. He hurt me regularly. Emotionally. Physically.” He looked up at Alexander with a question in his gaze, but Alexander wasn’t sure what Elliot was asking permission for. He didn’t need Alexander’s permission for anything, though. Elliot was his own man, and Alexander couldn’t stand the thought of him thinking he needed Alexander’s approval to merely speak. He’d need to remind him later. For the moment, Alexander softly patted Elliot’s thigh, urging him onward.

“It’s okay,” he said, because it was.

Elliot gave Alexander an appreciative look before adding, “Master Price is not a kind man, and I can’t allow him to take his aggression out on . . .” He stared down at his baby bump and sniffled. “I can’t let him take it out on my baby, so I had to run away. That’s why I traveled to Genevieve. I’ve always known I belong to Jared, so I was hoping Arthur and Periwinkle might help me find a way to keep her safe.” He slowly stroked his bump. “I think I’ve been concocting escape plans since the day he mentioned implanting her into me, but my mind’s still fuzzy.” He looked up at Alexander with teary eyes. “I want this with you. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Alexander gripped Elliot’s hand fiercely, wanting to pour his own excitement into the man so he knew he wasn’t alone. “I want it, too.”

Beau nodded sympathetically at the pair. “That’s awful. Are you worried he’ll try to find you?”

Elliot nodded. “He’s probably already searching. I don’t believe he knows about the feelings I’ve harbored for Alexander, mainly because I didn’t know I was harboring them either, though that could simply be down to the cake frosting in my head.”

Beau arched an eyebrow. “Cake frosting?”

“Cake frosting,” Elliot agreed. “We’ve just learned I was partially reprogrammed multiple times over the last five years. The process has left holes in my memory, and what’s been left in their place reminds me of what cake frosting might feel wedged into one’s brain. It’s not terribly uncomfortable, but it makes me dizzy when I try to remember things for too long. He took the good memories, but he left all the bad ones.” He closed his eyes tightly. “They play in my mind like a movie. Every hit, every kick, every death I’ve ever died for Jared Price. Mother has many rules, but the main one is that her bountiful beaus must love their husbands with their whole heart, just as she says she loves us with hers.” He looked up and stared at Beau. “We’re meant to welcome our husbands home with love and submission, and when we part ways each morning, we’re expected to send them away with a kiss and genuine well wishes.” He swallowed, looking around the room nervously before whispering, “I do not wish him well.” Elliot closed his eyes, and a relaxed smile spread across his face. “I hate him.” His jaw trembled harder. “It feels so good to finally say it.”

Alexander tightened his hand around Elliot’s, wanting so badly to reach into Elliot and pull out every drop of hurt inside of him, because Elliot didn’t deserve to hurt a single second more than he’d already experienced. “I hate him, too.”

“Is that common?” Beau asked, and when Alexander looked over at him, he was kissing one of the lemon wedges on his plate, mouthing an apology. Alexander had no idea what that was about, but Beau was an eccentric man, so it wasn’t terribly surprising. After squeezing the lemon into his water, he drops the carcass in his glass. “The cruelty, I mean. Do most of the suitors hurt their husbands?”

Elliot shrugged. “I’m not sure. Mother always told us there were two groups of men who came to her to find their forevers. Misters and Masters. Misters are men like Arthur Price. Kind and decent. Masters can be cruel for sport, like Jared. I don’t know what the ratio of Masters versus Misters is, though. Maybe Mrs. Peppercorn as Mother could get the data if you’re terribly curious.”

“Actually, I think I may be.” Beau had a look on his face that made it seem like little wheels were spinning inside his head. “I saved a litter of piglets when I was little. They were going to be slaughtered for meat.” Beau sighed. Alexander wasn’t sure what the man was up to, and he didn’t get a chance to ask, because as soon as he opened his mouth, Mrs. Peppercorn’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Mister Alexander Davenport and Elliot, your presence is required. Immediately, please.”

When Alexander looked up, she had a frantic look about her. The waves in her wig looked like they’d been combed through with her fingers multiple times, and she was sweating profusely. Elliot must have been just as worried, because before Alexander could move, Elliot launched up from his lap. They shared a worried look before making their way to the stage. Mrs. Peppercorn didn’t bother placing the microphone on its stand, just tossed it over her shoulder, making the sound system whine and squeal like it was being murdered. Before either of the men could ask what the problem was, she took them each by the wrist and quickly led them to the deck, then up the stairs, and toward Mother’s workshop. She was too busy huffing and puffing to answer either of their pleas for an explanation.

When they reached the door to Mother’s workshop, Mrs. Peppercorn turned to face them, her face red and sweaty from exertion. “All right, Elliot, I need you to look at me.”

Elliot nodded. “I already am, Mrs. Peppercorn. I believe our direct eye contact should have been your first clue.” He turned and smiled at Alexander. “How was that for sassy?”

Alexander snorted a laugh. “Precious—”

“Nope,” Mrs. Peppercorn cut him off. “We don’t have time for ‘precious boy’ praise. I’m afraid Armageddon is at hand.” She placed a hand on Elliot’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’ve just been given some horrible news. My new assistant, Thomas the Twink, just came to me and said our ship has been commandeered by two lunatics on a jet ski.” She closed her eyes and nodded like she was hyping herself up to deliver a devastating blow, but before she could respond, Alexander’s blood ran cold, because the door opened, and Emily Broussard stood on the other side, looking like a drowned rat.

“Boys, I believe it’s time we have a little chat.”