Page 91 of The All-Inclusive

“Actually, I have.” He slips out his phone and unlocks it, handing it over without comment.

Scanning the screen, I register words not meant for my eyes.

Take care of her, Jarhead. I’m counting on you.

Lifting my eyes, I hand back the phone. “Tell my chauvinistic ex-fiancé that I’m fine taking care of myself.”

Logan pockets his phone and wraps his arms around me from behind. We both stand facing the water, absorbing the swish of the sea. I lean back against his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum through my spine. I breathe in the bright scent of brine and tropical flowers, missing a future I recognize now as a pipe dream.

“I can’t do that,” he says, jarring me out of my thoughts.

“Do what?” Craning my neck to look up at him, I’m met by the soft brush of Logan’s lips on my forehead.

“I can’t tell Trent I won’t take care of you because that isn’t true.” He kisses my temple as I turn back to the water. “I’ll always take care of you, Sara. Just like I trust you’ll take care of me.” There’s a pause as he gathers his thoughts. “And someday, whenFrogman pulls his head out of his ass, he’ll take care of both of us like we take care of him.”

I snort. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

“Have faith.” How does he sound so damn confident? “I happen to know love’s a powerful force for convincing a person to take big, brave steps they couldn’t face otherwise.”

“That’s sweet.” Completely wrongheaded, but sweet. “You didn’t grow up like we did. You don’t know how hard it is to break free from the mold and turn your back on the family that raised you.”

“Who said anything about turning your back on family?”

Sighing, I squeeze my eyes shut. He’s so tenderhearted and kind, but Logan doesn’t know what it’s like. “Trent was right,” I say softly. “There’s no way they’d accept any sort of arrangement that isn’t the standardone man, one woman, forever and ever until death do we part. That’s the choice facing us both.”

I was willing to try, but Trent’s made it clear he isn’t. That’s it, then. Game over, do not pass go.

Logan’s long fingers stroke my forearm like he’s soothing a horse that’s been startled. “Frogman’s an asshole sometimes, but he’s a smart one. If anyone can figure out a way to make this work, it’s him.”

“I don’t think so.” I twist in his arms, turning to face him since I’m not sure Logan’s hearing me. “I never saw how much he was hurting. How hard he tried to give me the traditional family dream I talked about from the first day we met. When he knew he wasn’t cut out to do that, he tried to release me so I could find what I wanted.”

Brushing the hair from my face, he looks into my eyes with such kindness my legs shake. “Have you broadened your concept of what you want, Sara?”

“Yes.” For all the good that’s done.

But Logan’s not finished. “Have you changed since you’vebeen here, maybe opened your heart to a different version of happily ever after?”

“Yeah.” Funny how quickly that happened. “I have.”

“Then give Trent a chance to do the same.” He kisses me softly, oversized palms pressing the small of my back. I open my mouth against his, letting our tongues tease and tangle.

By the time we draw back, I’m crying again.

“Hey,” he says softly, swiping my tears with the pad of his thumb. “From everything you’ve told me, your family loves you so much. Trent’s family, too, in their own way. They’re maybe not the same sort of family I grew up with, but love’s all the same when you strip away the crap.”

“Well—” I start to argue, but the man has a point. “I guess that’s true.”

“In a love that big, that expansive, there’s plenty of room for people to grow. To alter their vision like you did.” His thumb strokes my cheekbone again. “Like Trent could do, too.”

His faith breaks my heart, but it soothes it as well. Never in a million years did I dream I’d come to a tropical sex resort and find a missing piece of my soul.

But there’s one piece still missing, and he’s not calling or texting. What is Trent doing right now? Is he thinking of us, or focused on helping his mom? I called my own mother last night, probing to see if she’d heard anything from Mrs. James.

“I heard she spent a night in the hospital,” my mother reported. “I took flowers and homemade bread to the house.”

“You saw Trent?” I tried not to sound too needy.

“I saw his cousin. What’s his name again? The one who likes other men.”

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