Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Blakely

“Okay, okay,” I say, laughing. “I remember that. I remember carrying the llama down the aisle with me and insisting it was my maid of honor.”

“You had everyone in the place dying. It’s one of the few things I remember clearly. You and that damn llama.”

Water splashes against the tub’s sides as I poke my toes through the bubbles. Renn sits behind me, my back to his chest, with his arms wrapped around me. It’s so strange how … easy this is. Physically. Emotionally. In every way.

Two empty wineglasses, a plate and fork stained with chocolate icing, and one eucalyptus-scented candle rest on the windowsill, the flame flickering in the breeze through the open window. The ocean air mixed with Renn’s cologne could be a bestseller if I could figure out how to bottle it.

“Do you think this is what marriage is really like?” he asks. “Or are we just in the honeymoon phase?”

I rest my head against him. “I’m sure the honeymoon phase is always like this—or it should be.”

“I think this is what the whole marriage should be like. If you’re going to spend your whole life with someone, shouldn’t it be sex on the table and chocolate cake in the bath?”

“Sounds great to me.” I lift my hand and let the water roll off my fingers. “When I get married for real someday, this is what I want. I want to feel like it’s me and him against the world.”

He kisses the top of my head.

I hold his arms against me and relax into him. A smile has permanently been on my face since we left the kitchen an hour ago. I know this isn’t real, but I can’t help but imagine if it was.

“Do you think you’d be into marriage if it were like this?” I ask. “Would it change your mind about it?”

He blows out a breath. The movement of his chest takes me with it.

I don’t know why I asked the question, and I regret letting it pass my lips.

“I’ve never said I’m not into marriage,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “I said I was keeping my options open.”

True . “But I got the impression you were just being polite.”

“Okay, I probably was just being polite. But I’m allowed to change my mind, aren’t I?” He shifts his weight around me. “I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t been against it. I’ve just never found myself in a situation where I thought— what if ? You know?”

“And I’ve spent my whole life wondering about it. I watched my mother struggle with being a single mom and the loneliness that came with the title. I remember lying in bed as a child, hearing her up in the middle of the night sweeping the floors or making lunches for the next day because two in the morning was the only time she had to do it.”

Renn rests his chin on the top of my head. “That had to be hard.”

“It was hard for her, I’m sure. And the older I get, the more I fear being in that same boat. Lonely. I will be a single mother because I never found a guy who I thought was worth building a life with, and I wouldn’t settle for less.”

His hands run up and down my arms.

I smile softly—not sadly, but not happily, either. I’m in an uncertain space between both emotions. I’m incredibly happy and content at this moment, but I know this bubble of ease is so very temporary.

I sigh.

What is one to do in this situation? Do you lean into the happy and enjoy all life has to offer? Or do you protect yourself from the heartbreak that’s inevitably right around the corner?

We’re treading carefully between flings and feelings. “ I’ve just never found myself in a situation where I thought—what if?” But I know forever is out of the question.

I blow out a breath and study the ink etched into his skin. Each piece is deliberate—an intentional piece of artwork. They’re a story that I’d love to know more about.

“Tell me about your tattoos,” I say, tracing a line up his arm.

He pulls his left arm away from me and stretches it before us. Water drips off his fingers and into the tub.

“I got most of them when I was younger,” he says. “Let’s see … Okay, this one.” He points at a patch of skin in the middle of his forearm. “The seven is for my position on the pitch. I’m the openside flanker.”

“That’s a forward, right?”

“Yeah. Very good.”

“I’ve learned a little over the years.”

He chuckles. “The pineapple was a bet that went terribly wrong one New Year’s Eve. The B is for Brewer. All my brothers have it somewhere on their body.” He twists his wrist. “This is the outline of Australia, obviously, with a ball inside it. This one says mom —self-explanatory.”

My heart warms at the sight of the small ode to his mother just below the crook of his arm.

“What about you?” he asks, returning his arm around me. “I didn’t see any tattoos on your hot little body.”

“That’s because I don’t have any. I’ve always wanted one. I’ve even looked at designs to see what I would get, but I haven’t gone through with it.”

“Why?”

“I’m scared I won’t want it forever, and I’ll be stuck with it.”

“That’s how I feel about Brock,” he says, chuckling. “I befriended him, but now I don’t want him forever, and I’m stuck with him.”

I smile, taking a handful of water and dropping it on my chest. “Have you heard from him since we left Vegas?”

“No. Have you had a chance to call him yet?”

I shake my head. “Something is going on with Brock, I think. Ella said they aren’t talking either. It’s not like him to just shut down like this. I’m starting to get worried.”

He hums. I don’t know what that means, so I leave it.

We sit quietly. The peace is only broken by the occasional ripple of the water. The room is warm, the moonlight adding a touch of ambiance to the low-lit room. It’s lovely and romantic … and I’m sitting here with Renn.

“There’s a difference between flings, feelings, and forever.”

Ella’s words echo through my mind, reminding me once again to keep a solid perspective on what’s transpiring. Things might be amazing and working out better than I ever imagined. But we are in a bubble, isolated from the real world that will be ready to attack us once we return home.

Renn pulls me against him, nestling his head against mine. My chest fills with a warmth that I’m afraid to name.

“When do you think we should go back home?” I ask, hesitation in my voice. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay cocooned in our little beach bubble for as long as possible.

He sighs. “I talked to the Royals today while you napped. They want a meeting with me as soon as I get back. They’re pushing for midweek.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They heard the news, obviously, and said they have concerns. I told them I married the only woman I could ever love and was happy, but I don’t think they bought it.”

I still.

“I told them I’d get back with them tomorrow and let them know if I could return that quickly,” he says. “I feel like a dick cutting your honeymoon short.”

My spirits fall. Don’t be disappointed. Keep a healthy perspective . “Yeah, well, this isn’t a real honeymoon anyway, remember?”

He clears his throat, shifting his weight again. “Bianca told me that the headlines aren’t as bad as we feared. Naturally, there are some nasty ones, but she thinks our statement changed the narrative. She suggested we post something on our Social accounts to bolster our stance. I’m sure Frances would agree with that if I answered her calls.”

My brow furrows. “Your publicist?”

“Yeah.”

“Why aren’t you answering her calls?”

He chuckles. “I don’t know.”

“Renn, talk to me.”

“ I really don’t know . I’m pissed at her for taking my dad’s calls. I’m tired of hearing the same shit.” He blows out a hasty breath. “I get that I have a reputation for being a troublemaker, and God knows I perpetuate that. But everyone seems to think that means I’m incapable of making my own decisions, and it eats away at me after a while.”

There’s a vulnerability in his voice, a rawness that eats away at my heart.

“I’d like to tear my father a new asshole,” he says. “That’s what I’d like to do. The man doesn’t care about me , anyway. He’s only concerned about how I impact his public persona. And Frances—she cares about the paycheck. There’s no loyalty to me. Sometimes, that bothers me more than it should.”

“I think it should bother you,” I say carefully. “No one likes to be surrounded by people who don’t value them for who they are, Renn. This isn’t a you problem. You’re not wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m stuck in this role of being the bad boy. It sells tickets. It pays bills. Even if the league reprimands me for my behavior, they win. They’re in the papers. There are new eyes on the sport.”

I squeeze his thighs. Oh, Renn . “You feel like everyone uses you.”

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

My chest constricts at the hollowness of his voice. It’s a sound I can’t take—not from a man who I know doesn’t deserve it.

“Let’s post something on Social,” I say, hoping he takes my suggestion correctly.

“Like what?”

I hold my hand out and inspect my beyond-beautiful wedding ring. “Please keep it. I bought it for you. I hoped you’d like it.”

The pride on his face, the tentative hopefulness in his words that I would appreciate his efforts, sweep through my mind. And I do .

Let’s show the world I’m on your side, Renn Brewer.

I wiggle my fingers. “Well, a picture of this gorgeous ring with the bubbles in the background would be nice.”

“True. I wouldn’t have bought that if our marriage wasn’t real, right?”

A sad smile slips over my lips. “Right.”

He leans over the edge of the tub and grabs his phone.

He takes my hand and moves it around until he finds an angle he likes. It has the bubble bath, wineglasses, and the moon in the background. Click !

“Let me see,” I say, peering at the screen. “Oh, that’s a good one. Look at how pretty it is. The light is hitting the ring perfectly.”

He holds his phone in front of me and opens his Social app. He clicks the search bar, types my name in, and follows me.

“ Ooh ,” I say, teasing him. “I get a follow and don’t even have to pay you.”

“I’m taking it out of your ass later.”

“Why wait?”

He shakes his head, his chuckle making me smile, as he returns to his profile. The picture is uploaded. His fingers fly across the keyboard. The biggest win of all time . He tags me, hits post, and then closes the app.

I nestle against him, pressing a kiss to his chest. “That was a nice caption.”

“I’ve been thinking about it all evening.”

A giggle escapes my lips. “You’ve been thinking about a social media caption all evening?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about how true that statement really is.”

I lean up and turn to look at him. His eyes sparkle.

“If we have to cut this honeymoon short, I only have one request,” I say.

“What is it?”

“I want to come in every room of this house.”

He palms the back of my head and brings my mouth to his, grinning. “Your request is granted.”

And it was … over and over again.