“I can totally envision that.” Charlotte giggled. “It would make for hella good TV. But, hey, it happened to one of the bachelorettes, so it can happen for you, too, right?” Charlotte turned to Antonio. “I call dibs on the next test crowd, Tonio. After you dump me, it’s the least you can do to mend my broken heart.” She smiled sweetly and held up her drink. “Cheers to amicable breakups and hot island hookups, now fill me up.”

Antonio picked up the champagne and refilled her glass. “No one is breaking up with anyone tonight. So on that note, let’s head in and eat. What do you guys say?” He stood. “They have a table waiting for us.”

They followed him in.

Emma was directly behind Antonio. At the table he turned, smiled at her, and pulled out the chair next to him. “Won’t you have a seat?”

She sat.

18

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Pete was seated across the table from Emma. He watched her laugh and have a good time next to Antonio the entire meal. If it hadn’t been for Mallory distracting him, he would’ve overturned the table and hauled her out of there after the first five minutes.

Mallory leaned in, whispering, “Your frowny face is scaring the staff. Snap out of it. We’re almost done. Then it’s time for the real fun to begin.”

“The only fun Emma and I are having is back in our room,” Pete commented. “I’m taking her home right after dinner.”

Mallory laughed. “Yeah, right. If Antonio has anything to say about it, we’ll all be fucking on his villa deck before the night is over, his cock firmly embedded in your wife.”

“Over my dead body,” Pete replied gruffly.

“This is all coming along so nicely,” Mallory said. “You are definitely a predictable man.” She set her hand on his chest and drew a nail downward. “It’s too bad you’re taken, because we could’ve totally had some fun. You’re a guy’s guy, and I like that. The caveman type. But totally loyal. I need to clone you.” A curtain of hair fell over one eye as she leaned forward, blocking Pete’s view of the other side of the table. Then, unexpectedly, she nibbled his earlobe. When he jerked back, she held him steady by the shoulders, saying, “Hold tight, cowboy. This is all part of the plan.”

“What fucking plan?” Pete hissed. He was having trouble keeping his voice below a yell.

He was sick of it all.

“To make Emma jealous, of course,” Mallory replied sweetly. She patted his chest. “Dude, you need to wake up and smell the Cuban. You’re going to need to make your wife want you more than she wants the shiny new treat who’s showering her with attention and affection and expensive-as-hell champagne. And she’s going to want you all the more when she thinks I want you. Capisce?”

“No, it’s not capisce at all—”

“Are you two all right?” Emma asked from the other side of the table.

Pete’s head snapped up.

He hadn’t realized that he’d basically been in a huddle with Mallory. “We’re fine—I’m fine. Just ready to head out.”

“Oh, where are you two going?” Emma’s face was inscrutable.

“No, we’re going.” He gestured between the two of them, trying not to sound too frustrated. “You and I. Back to the villa.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose as she glanced between him and Mallory. “Antonio and Charlotte are having a bonfire in front of their villa. They’ve invited some other couples to join them. It’s going to be fun, and I’d like to go.”

Pete was about to say there was no way in hell that was happening, but Mallory reached under the table and pinched his leg. “Fine,” he ground out. “We can do it if you want.”

Antonio heard every word and grinned ear to ear like he’d just won a contest. Pete wanted to punch the smile off his face. His fists curled in his lap.

“I think everyone is finished.” Antonio set his napkin on the table. “Shall we go?”

Once again, they all stood and followed him out. He was like the Pied Piper of Paradise. Pete could see no other choice but to follow. But it made him sick to be one of this guy’s ducklings.

How had this happened so fast? They’d only been there a day.

Once outside they took the wood path. After a few hundred feet, Pete couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get away for a few minutes, or he was going to go bonkers. He decided to take the beach the rest of the way back to clear his head. “Does anyone know if this path is the one that heads to the beach?” he called, stopping at an intersection everyone else had already passed.

Charlotte turned. “Yep, that one goes out to the beach in front of area B.”

“Great,” Pete said. “I’m going to go this way. I’ll meet you guys back at the villa.”

Emma turned. She was in front, walking with Antonio. “Okay,” she said, her face hard to read in the darkness. “We’ll see you back at the villas.”

Villas? Plural.

Mallory made a move to go with him, but he shook his head, tamping down the snarl that was rising in his throat. She took his meaning, or maybe his face, to heart and kept walking with the others.

“We’ll see you later, surfer dude,” she called over her shoulder. “And I, for one, can’t wait.” Then she blew him a loud, smacking kiss.

Pete turned, angry at how this night had turned out. He fisted his hands as he walked. His muscles were beginning to ache because of all the clenching and unclenching. His brain was moving in eighty different directions. This was brand new territory for him. Emma had always been doting—first as a doting girlfriend, and then as a doting wife. She’d never given him any reason to doubt her love for him. Now? He had no idea what was going on. It was making his chest ache all the damn time, a dull thudding pounding continuously against his ribs.

The trouble was, he had no idea what it meant.

He’d never experienced any sort of emotion like this before. It sounded lame, but he’d never loved anyone like Emma. And she’d never given him any reason to feel like this.

After a few twists and turns, Pete made it out to the beach. He’d exited onto the sand at the very far end of the resort. It was dark, but the moon was out. He was wearing light linen pants that Emma had bought him especially for the trip. He stopped to roll up his pant legs before he hit the water. For a moment, he wished like hell this island had a good wave break. Surfing had been his life growing up in California. He’d attended USC, and when he hadn’t been playing baseball, he’d spent most of his time in the water. Mallory hadn’t been far from the truth when she called him a surfer. He looked like a surfer, and he certainly identified with the lifestyle. Choosing to move to Chicago, and then to Madison, had taken him far from what he loved to do, but being with Emma made him happier.

As he walked up the beach toward their villa, he thought about his life with Emma. She’d been happy with him all these years, hadn’t she? They’d gotten married fairly young, but lots of people did. Originally, she hadn’t wanted to move to the suburbs, but once they’d found their neighborhood, she’d seemed content. Their house was something they were both proud of. They’d each put their blood, sweat, and tears into it. Their neighbors were a little eye-roll-inducing, but whose weren’t?

He ran a hand through his hair.

How had things gotten to this point?

That was the question he kept going back to. He and Emma had been happy. They’d been living the perfect life. Now all of a sudden she was unhappy, and he was miserable. The problem was, her unhappiness could drive her into the arms of another man—a man with millions of dollars and a tantalizing lifestyle Pete couldn’t compete with. Emma could leave him and the suburbs behind forever with a snap of her fingers.