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“Not complaining,” he grits out between his teeth as I wind my arms around his neck again.

His comment has my shoulders relaxing a little. In fact, I can’t help but squirm a tiny bit.

Monty buries his face in my neck and quietly growls, “Kendall,” in warning.

There’s a huge smile on my face, which the photographer captures.

We do a few more poses with Monty’s and my faces smushed together, another soft kiss, and then thankfully we are done.

“I’ll text you a link to the photos as soon as they’re uploaded,” the photographer says.

“Great, thank you. I can’t wait to see them.”

Even after he’s gone, neither Monty nor I move. I should move, but I don’t.

While remaining seated on him, I ask casually, “So, um, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? For tonight?”

“Nothing on the itinerary until dinner with my mom and Richard at seven.”

“Oh,” I mutter. “Is there any way we could bail on them and just do something together? Just you and me?”

“I don’t think so,” he says.

“Oh well,” I say with a sigh. “Then I better start getting ready soon.”

“Yeah, me too. After you get your shower, I mean,” he amends.

But neither of us move.

“Five more minutes?” Monty asks.

“Five more minutes,” I agree as I rest my head on his shoulder.

If I could make a wish right now, it would be to turn those five minutes into forever.

15

Kendall

“How was your steak, sweetheart?” Monty’s mom asks while I check my phone for the millionth time today after dinner. I glance over at Monty and debate whether or not I should complain.

But after kissing him, after being held in his arms earlier, I’m all out of being fake for the day.

“It was delicious,” I tell her. “Best I’ve ever had.”

“Well, good. I’m glad they finally got something right,” she replies with a smile.

About that time, loud clapping starts up from the kitchen, making me tense.

Someone is celebrating their birthday here on this beautiful island with their friends or family.

I’m blinking back tears when the servers circle our table, singing an obnoxious variation of “Happy Birthday” and holding a plate with a single giant pink cupcake that they place in front of me.

“Oh my god.” I turn to Monty, who is…smiling. He’s actually smiling at my stunned reaction.

“Happy Birthday, cupcake,” Monty says after the singing ends. Leaning over, he gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek. It’s even more overwhelming than all the others combined.

“You remembered?” I ask him.