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“Montgomery Alexander Crawford.” I hate when my mother three-names me. “Don’t you dare think of running off and leaving her to make this decision on her own. And do you really want some guy rubbing oil all over your fiancée when you’re not there?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“I knew you would make the right decision,” she says, clearly insinuating that my father never did.

“Not to mention that if anyone needs a massage it’s you,” Kendall says, reaching up to rub my tense shoulder. Just that brief touch sends a bolt of electricity through me, lighting my body up in ways it absolutely does not need to light. “You could use one more than anyone I know. Come on. Do it with me.”

“I’ll think about it, if I don’t go into a sugar coma.”

“Oh, I’m going to take the best nap ever while I get rubbed down.”

I don’t like the thought of anyone, male or female, rubbing her down while she’s asleep. Which means I’ll go, if only to keep an eye on her.

“Fine, I’ll go,” I huff.

“Yay!” Kendall exclaims as she grasps my arm.

After that, we get up, check in to get our room keys, and say our goodbyes.

“We’ll see you two tonight for dinner!” Kendall calls out as she waves goodbye to them.

“Can’t wait,” I grit out.

As soon as they’re out of sight, I snap, “Well, that’s one hell of a first impression.”

“What do you mean?” she asks innocently.

“If she hadn’t just recently married, I think my mom would have proposed to you,” I grumble.

“I tried to be awful, Monty. I did. How was I supposed to know what bad wine tastes like? I can’t afford it. And who doesn’t love cats? You know what I just thought about? We should’ve worked on pet names on the plane,” she rambles, her nose wrinkling.

“That’s unnecessary,” I say while we walk toward the pier that apparently leads to our bungalow according to the signs.

“What? All lovey-dovey couples have names for each other. I think I’ll call you…babe. You need to come up with one for me because you can’t use Kindling.”

“How about cupcake?” I suggest just to tease her.

But Kendall laughs so hard she snorts. Again. And I know I’ll keep using it.

When we finally make it to the bungalow, our luggage is thankfully sitting just inside. Kendall rushes from room to room, then out the sliding glass doors.

“Holy crap, this place is ah-mazing!” she exclaims. “There’s a pool out here! Oooh, and a hot tub. And the ocean. We have our own pool and ocean, Monty! How cool is that?” she asks when she comes back inside.

“I don’t think we can claim the ocean, but it is nice and private.”

“Well, duh, it’s the honeymoon suite,” she says. “Nobody wants to hear what goes on in here. I mean, maybe some people do want to hear it, but they shouldn’t and yeah, it can get loud.”

“Kendall,” I say as she buzzes around like a hummingbird. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m great. No, I’m gurrrrreaaaat,” she repeats like the cartoon cereal tiger.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa if that’s what you’re freaking out about.”

“Freaking out? I’m not freaking out. You’re freaking out.” She gives a fake laugh and then collapses onto the sofa, tossing her hat to the side. “This has been a total shitshow, right?”

Her goose egg is twice the size it was yesterday and twice as blue, making me wince.

“It’s…fine.”