CHAPTER 85

All I wanted was a weekend with our friends and family on an island where Timothy and I could tie the knot in peaceful bliss. I pictured walks on the beach, romantic dinners, couples' massages. Instead, I'd found myself staggering up a beach alone, the rapidly fading sun at my back as I called after a bird as if he knew his own name. It was dark for a while, but when light cut through the blackness, I nearly sobbed in relief. Timothy was there. But now that we're back in our villa safe and sound, something's still wrong. "Stop it," I say again, pushing away his hands. Since the second he found me, he hasn't strayed an inch. It's as if he's afraid I'll vanish if he stops watching me, stops touching me. "This? What you're doing right now? I don't want it," I tell him. His hands fall to his sides. His clothes are damp from the ocean and from the shower. They cling to every inch of