Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(40)

It wasn’t until I was older when I’d realized that, after a while, those kids had grown bored and complacent with what life had to show them through a car window.

So far, I hadn’t lost that childlike wonder that I’d so tightly held on to since I was little, and I hoped I never would.

“Be sure you visit the Blue Lagoon,” I heard the driver say.

“Like the movie?” I interjected, my mind suddenly filled with visions of a half-naked Brooke Shields stuck on a deserted island.

“It is a natural spa and very good for the skin,” he said, patting his cheek to add emphasis to his words.

“Is it outside?” I asked, remembering our brisk walk to the car. Being outside in forty layers of clothing sounded fine. But a string bikini? Not so much.

“Yes, but the water is very hot. You must try it.”

Jude gave me a challenging look, and I just shrugged.

“You only live once, right?”

He laughed. “That’s what all the T-shirts say.”

Like everywhere we’d stayed, the hotel was beautiful. Endless coastal views with an upscale-cabin feel reminded me of a secluded mountain lodge. I hoped to spend some time wandering around our suite, admiring the waves as they crashed just outside below our balcony window, but Jude seemed to have other plans.

“We have dinner reservations in an hour,” he said, sliding his hands around my waist.

“Really?” I nearly whined. “Can’t we just order in?”

“Nope.”

Turning, I looked up at him, trying to gauge what was going on in that head of his. “Why?”

“Just because.” He shrugged, feigning indifference, but I could see the hint of edginess it carried. “I thought it would be nice to spend the first evening of our honeymoon out. That’s all.”

Liar.

He was excited and perhaps a bit nervous about something.

Unwilling to foil any plans he might have, I played along. “Okay. I guess I’d better get ready then.”

Glad I’d taken a shower on the plane, I grabbed my makeup bag and headed for the bathroom to begin sprucing myself up for an evening out. I unzipped the small case, pulling out foundation and a tube of mascara. Eye shadow and lipstick were set on the counter as well. Like a little girl playing with her mother’s makeup for the first time, I always felt a slight thrill whenever I applied it. It was a tiny reminder of independence, of how far my life had come.

I’d never forget.

After fifteen minutes or so, I no longer looked like the tired, jet-lagged version I’d arrived as, and I moved on to tackle my hair. Since I’d blown it dry on the plane, it was mostly straight, hanging down my back with little fuss. Grabbing the curling iron and the wonky plug adaptor, I let it heat up, and I moved to the closet where I’d hung a few dresses after we arrived.

Smiling, I pulled one off the hanger, remembering Grace’s reaction when I’d held it out for consideration. Her eyes had bugged out of her head as she held up two thumbs in approval.

It was a bit more risqué than my normal style, but the soft green color was what had initially garnered my attention. After holding it to my body in front of the full-length mirror, I knew it would drive Jude insane.

Nearly skipping back to the bathroom, enthused now by the prospect of Jude seeing me in my devilish dress, I hung it over the shower door and began curling my long locks of hair. The iron was wide, so it left loose wavy tendrils to frame my face and shoulders. Suddenly, my flat, lifeless blonde mass of hair was full and sexy.

Now, all I needed was the dress and a killer pair of shoes.

Shoot, I forgot to grab my shoes.

Still fully dressed in my drab plane clothes, I tiptoed out of the bathroom, hoping I wouldn’t see Jude before I had a chance to finish my look. It might be silly, but even after the day most women considered their prettiest day, I still wanted to wow him over and over, and that meant not letting him see me until I was completely ready.

Sexy hair and makeup combined with frumpy clothes wasn’t the look I was going for.

Besides, didn’t I read somewhere that marriage was all about keeping the spark alive?

Okay, maybe I was jumping ahead of myself, but I still wanted to see his face hit the floor.

I made it to the closet without a hint of my handsome husband. Feeling triumphant, I bent down and picked up a pair of peep-toe nude heels. I turned to make a mad dash back toward the seclusion of the bathroom.

I halted mid-step and froze.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of him. Obviously still in the middle of getting ready, his shirt was hanging over a nearby chair and he was wearing nothing but a pair of dress pants. He’d casually slung his mint green tie over his neck and was kneeling against the inside railing of the windows overlooking the ocean. With a bottle of water in his hand, he slowly sipped it. He was stoic and calm, peaceful . . . beautiful.

Mine.

The shoes dropped to the floor, and I went to him like a moth to a flame. Suddenly, I didn’t care about grand entrances or perfect moments. I just wanted this moment, all the moments.

His breath hitched as my cold fingers touched his bare skin, but he immediately greeted me with his own tender touch.

“What are you doing?” I asked, resting my head against his back.

“Enjoying the view,” he answered, turning toward me with a warm grin.