Page 54 of Honeyed

She hasn’t changed anything legally yet, and as far as I know, no one in town is even calling her by her new last name. She’s still an Ashton to everyone, and part of me cringes at making her change that.

Considering I’ve always been ashamed of the man who provided my surname.

“You don’t have to do that.” My voice is drearier than I mean it to be, and I underestimate how well she reads me.

Because, of course, she knows exactly why I’m saying that.

“You know I’m more than proud to be Mrs. Teal, right?” She traces her hands over my hips, and lust sparks from the small touch.

“Yeah?” I smirk lazily, like a creature that’s been thoroughly sated and satisfied, mostly because part of me doesn’t want to show how much my past bothers me. Not when I’m sitting on a beach next to my beautiful wife.

She sits up, leaning over me to look directly into my eyes like I really need to hear her.

“I mean, that I’m proud to take your last name. Because to me, the only thing I think of when I hear Teal, is you. How incredible you’ve been to me my entire life, how good of a human you are. You told me, the day you got that letter, you regretted keeping his last name. But I don’t ever regret taking it. It only reminds me of you, of the last name I used to dream about having when I’d doodle it on my notebook in eighth grade. It’s the name I wanted whenever I dreamed of the future, so think of it that way. This name is a gift you gave me, not some stain of the past. We can recreate it however we want.”

My entire face lights with wonder, and dare I say tears, as I stare at her with unabashed emotion. My palm slides across her cheek, fingers sliding into her hair, and I close my eyes as I pull her to me to kiss her forehead. The gesture is supposed to be sweet, but I let my lips linger there as if tattooing myself on her brain.

“Thank you. I don’t know how I ever deserved you in my life, but thank you.” Because her words are a balm to my bruised and wounded soul.

For so long, I wanted to hide from my past. Hide who I am. Stay quiet in the background so that no one would notice where and who I came from. With just a few words and years of gestures, Alana has granted me the solace to be proud of who I am. Proud of the name that I’ve given her and the family we are now creating together.

And though I still haven’t told her I am in love with her, it feels too soon despite the predicament we started out in, I feel it in every ounce of my bones. Coming here is exactly what we needed, the final thread to sewing up our past issues and putting them to bed, literally, forever.

“You’re you. That’s how.” Al presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

A subject change is needed, and I clear my throat. “What else do you want to do today? We could be lazy and just read, eat, drink? Ralph said there’s a pretty cool dinner spot in town if you want to venture out?”

We haven’t done much else than relax since we’ve been here, and that’s perfectly fine by me. I want to make sure she’s having the best time she can.

“Bet you can’t stand up on a surfboard.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

“I’d rather you use me as a surfboard.” I give her a charming, cheeky smirk.

Alana rolls her eyes. “The image of that really has me wet, but I need a break. And I need to watch your ass faceplant into the ocean.”

“Bet you can’t last longer on it than I can.” Another innuendo has me inches from her lips, taunting her.

“Winner gets to be on top?” She licks her lips.

“Fuck, guess I better concentrate then.” Even though I’d enjoy watching her bounce up and down on me just as much as I would drilling her into the mattress.

“Last one in is a rotten egg.” She dashes through the sand, pert ass jiggling as she runs to the water’s edge where Ralph set up all kinds of water toys and equipment.

Even though we’re married now, even though I’ve been inside her body six ways to Sunday, even though the love we share has morphed, deep down, we’re still best friends. We still joke around, challenge each other, taunt, and tease. It’s what makes us work, and it’s what’s always made us work.

I got to marry my best friend by accident. Or, well, by Arthur’s meddling. And I can say now I’m damn glad he did.

22

ALANA

When we arrive home from our honeymoon, the hint of summer and warmer weather is fully upon us.

Balmy temperatures greet us on the tarmac, and Warren opens all the windows in his truck as we drive home along the highway. He’s rocking a sexy tan and stubble that borders on a beard, and this wild island man look has me all kinds of squirmy below the waist. How we controlled ourselves on the flight is beyond me because we’ve acted like sex-craved newlyweds for the last week, and I’m still yearning for more.

“You’re never this quiet.” He keeps his eyes on the road, but one big hand flexes on my thigh as the other grips the wheel to steer.

“Why is it so hot when you drive one-handed? Is there a drug you take to make me more attracted to you?”

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