Sarah
Do you think this is too much?" I ask, holding up a flowy sundress against my growing baby bump. The blue fabric complents my tan skin perfectly.
Matthew leans against the headboard, watching with amusent as I flit between the bed piled with clothes and the open suitcase.
"No," he says with a grin.
I fold the dress carefully and tuck it into my suitcase. We are going to Aruba again. I asked Matthew if he wanted to go sowhere new since we had already gone there for our honeymoon, but he insisted we go there.
"You liked it there, didn’t you?" he had asked.
"Yes," I replied.
"Then it’s perfect. Besides, there are places there we hadn’t seen yet."
So here I am, packing away.
It’s been three weeks since my world turned upside down, three weeks of processing, healing, and rebuilding. T
"I just checked the weather again," Matthew says, scrolling through his phone. "Sunny and 85 degrees every single day we’re there."
"Perfect," I murmur, moving to the dresser to select swimsuits. My hand rests on my stomach, which has grown noticeably in the past few weeks. "Little avocado is going to love the ocean air."
Soone knocks on the door, so I look up.
"Sarah?" Marishka says, smiling brightly. "I brought you sothing for your trip!"
I head downstairs to find her holding a large woven tote bag. "I made this for you," she says, her eyes bright with excitent. "For the beach."
I take the bag, running my fingers over the intricate pattern. "It’s beautiful," I breathe. "Did you weave this yourself?"
She nods, beaming with pride. "An old Ukrainian technique my grandmother taught . I used to make these all the ti back ho."
The ntion of her holand no longer feels like a distant, abstract concept. Now it’s part of my heritage, my history. I’ve been asking her about Ukraine more and more lately, hungry to learn about that side of myself.
"I love it," I say, hugging her tightly. "Thank you."
"Have you packed your sun hat?" she asks, switching effortlessly into her maternal mode. "And your prenatal vitamins."
I laugh softly, feeling the kind of warmth that only cos from being truly cared for.
"Yes, Mama, I packed them," I tease.
"I will never get tired of hearing you call that," Marishka says, her voice thick with emotion.
Matthew appears in the hallway behind . "Alright, you two. Don’t start crying again. Sarah, go finish packing," he orders.
"Yes, sir," I say quickly and walk toward the suitcase.
Marishka chuckles. "I will leave you to it."
~-~
The flight to Aruba is smooth, and I spend most of it sleeping against Matthew’s shoulder. When we land, the familiar tropical heat embraces us as we step off the plane.
"Welco back," Matthew says, squeezing my hand.
At baggage claim, I notice him checking his phone constantly, typing quick ssages when he thinks I’m not looking. He shifts from one foot to another, a nervous energy radiating from him that wasn’t there this morning.
"Everything okay?" I ask as we wait for our luggage.
"Hmm? Yeah, fine," he says too quickly, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Just checking on so work stuff."
"I thought you said you were completely offline for this trip," I remind him, frowning slightly.
"I am," he insists, but his eyes dart away from mine. "Just tying up a few loose ends."
When our taxi pulls up to the resort, Matthew seems distracted during check-in, constantly glancing around the lobby as if looking for soone. The receptionist hands him our room key, and he pockets it quickly.
In the elevator, Matthew’s fingers drum against his thigh. He checks his watch three tis in two minutes.
"Are you sure everything’s okay?" I press again, studying his face. "You seem... anxious."
"I am fine," he says curtly.
I frown. Sothing is going on with him, I can feel it.
Our room is beautiful, a spacious suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the turquoise Caribbean. I wander to the balcony, breathing in the salt air, but when I turn back, Matthew is on his phone again, speaking in hushed tones.
"Yes, everything’s set," I hear him whisper. "Seven o’clock, exactly as planned."
He notices watching and abruptly ends the call.
"Who was that?" I ask.
"Just the concierge," he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. "I was confirming our dinner reservation."
"Oh." I nod, unconvinced. "I didn’t know we had dinner plans already."
"I thought it would be nice," he says, busying himself with unpacking. He’s avoiding eye contact now. "Why don’t you rest a bit? The flight was long."
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching him move around the room with uncharacteristic nervousness.
Sothing isn’t right. Matthew is hiding sothing from , and after everything we’ve been through, the secrets and lies in my family, a cold knot of dread forms in my belly.
What if things are not okay? What if Matthew still hates and...
"Sarah?"
I look at him and force a smile. "Yeah?"
"Take a shower and get to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day," he says, not smiling.
A long day? What is that supposed to an!?
"I will," I say, even as unease creeps through . I grab my toiletry bag and head to the bathroom, my mind racing with possibilities, none of them good.
The bathroom is luxurious, with marble countertops and a glass-enclosed shower big enough for two. I turn on the water, letting steam fill the room as I undress slowly.
Maybe a hot shower will clear my head, help figure out what’s going on with Matthew.
I step under the spray, letting the warm water cascade over my shoulders, my hands instinctively cradling my baby bump. The water soothes my travel-weary muscles but does nothing to ease the tension in my mind.
Just as I’m working shampoo into my hair, I hear the bathroom door open. Through the steamy glass, I see Matthew’s silhouette.
"Can I join you?" he asks, his voice soft.
I hesitate only briefly before nodding. "Sure."
He undresses quickly and slides open the shower door, stepping in behind . "Hey," he says.
"Hi," I reply.
His arms wrap around from behind, his chest pressing against my back. The hot water streams over us both as his lips find my neck, kissing a path from my shoulder to my ear. I tilt my head, giving him better access, my eyes fluttering closed as his hands begin to wander.
"I’ve missed touching you," he whispers against my skin, his voice husky with desire.
His palms slide over my wet skin, one hand cupping my breast while the other travels lower, across my rounded belly and down. His fingers find their way between my thighs, gentle yet deliberate. I gasp as he begins to stroke , slow circles that make my knees weak.
"Matthew," I breathe, leaning back against him for support.
"I’ve got you," he murmurs, his touch growing more insistent as he feels my response.
"Turn around," he says, his voice thick with need.
I comply, facing him now. His eyes are dark and intense as they roam over my body. He cups my face in his hands and kisses deeply, passionately, before dropping to his knees before .
"What are you—"
"Shhh," he says, looking up at with a mischievous smile. "Let take care of you."
His hands grip my hips as his mouth replaces his fingers. I gasp, one hand flying to the shower wall for support while the other tangles in his wet hair. The dual sensation of the hot shower and his hot mouth is overwhelming.
"Matthew," I moan, my head falling back against the tiles.
He takes his ti, savoring , bringing to the edge and then backing away, teasing until I’m practically begging. When he finally lets fall apart, I cry out his na, my entire body shuddering with release.
Afterward, he rises, holding close as my breathing steadies. He kisses tenderly, then picks up in his arms.
He carries out of the shower, not bothering with towels and lays gently on the bed. The sheets are cool against my damp skin as he hovers over , his eyes taking in every inch of my body with reverence.
"You’re so beautiful," he whispers, running his fingertips down my side, over the curve of my hip.
There’s sothing different about the way he touches now, it’s tender, almost worshipful, like he’s trying to morize every detail. He lowers himself beside , propped on one elbow, and traces the outline of my face with his finger.
"I’ve been wanting to make love to you for a long ti now," he says, his voice catching.
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