Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (animal farm read .TXT) 📗

on his heels, but simply holds up our key without additional comment. Faith and I both hop up, eager to get out of our gowns. While I was excited to put it on, formal gowns are not exactly comfortable travel wear. The guys lead us down a short hallway filled with nautical décor, and straight out the back door.

“Uhm, guys? Where are we going?” Faith asks.

“You’ll see!” Teddy grabs her hand happily and pulls her down a small path through the rocky outcropping towards the sound of the ocean.

“Are we not staying in the main guest house?” I ask, turning to look at Patrick.

“No, actually. It’s even better.” He gives me a shuttered smile. “I think you’ll love it.”

The four of us make our way down the path, through some scrubby bushes on a small incline. Just as the ocean sounds peak, we come to the top of the outcropping and the rocky beach spreads before us, bathed in moonlight. I draw in a shocked breath and stop to take in the dazzling view in front of me.

“It’s stunning!” I say, awed by the harsh beauty of waves crashing into the rocky beach.

“Yes, you are,” Patrick says quietly. I snap my gaze over to where he’s standing, drinking me in like I’m going to disappear. I blush, and start moving again. Faith and Teddy are already picking their way along the rocks, and I can see cottages spread along the beachfront.

They stop and wait for us at the first cottage, Faith snuggled into Teddy’s side.

“This is us! You guys should be the next one over. Y’all have a good night, and remember”—he looks sternly at Patrick—“if you hurt my sister, they’ll never find your body.” He pops finger guns at him before turning and leading Faith up to their small cottage.

Oh, my gosh. Really Teddy? I’m mortified, but thankfully Patrick just chuckles in amusement.

“I’m so sorry,” I say as we walk to the next cottage.

“It’s fine, if I had a baby sister in your shoes, I’d probably say the same thing. He’s a good guy, we’ve talked several times,” he confesses.

“What? You two have been talking?” I’m surprised to hear that.

“Yeah, who do you think tipped me off about the hot chocolate?” He nudges me lightly with his elbow, and my mind jumps back to this morning, Charlotte knocking at my door with his thoughtful gift and a steaming mug of cocoa. I hadn’t questioned his knowledge at the time, but it makes sense.

“You’ve really put in a lot of effort, haven’t you?” My hand flutters up to touch his mother’s hair clip of its own accord. We’ve arrived in front of our cabin, but instead of heading up he stops and turns to face me, reaching for my hands for the first time since our wedding ceremony.

“Sadie, I know I messed up. I own that, and I apologize. I just hope—” He stops, looks out at the ocean over my shoulder and clears his throat. “I just hope that you’ll give me a chance to prove to you that the rest of it wasn’t a lie. That I’ve been me the whole time. The only difference is the last name on the man you chose to marry.” He looks back to me and gives my hands a squeeze before letting go and leading the way to our front door.

With the sound of the waves crashing in my ears, I swallow past the lump in my throat and then follow him to our new home—for now.

We wander through the front living space of the cottage, and find ourselves standing inside the master bedroom, staring at an expansive bed taking up most of the cozy space. Patrick steps around the room opening doors, taking note of what’s behind them.

This is so awkward. I just want to wash off this day, and sleep. Alone.

Looking down at my massive gown, an unpleasant realization hits me like a brick.

“It looks like the bags are already in the closet. I can shower in the hall bathroom so you’ll have some time to yourself in here.”

“I’d love to shower, but—” I stop, my throat suddenly dry. “I can’t take this dress off without help.” I turn, and show him the long row of pearl buttons, which Nell had painstakingly buttoned earlier today.

“Ahh, yes, those would probably be difficult to reach,” he says, and runs his hands through his hair with a nervous chuckle. “I can help with that.”

I freeze as he steps forward, and starts at the top button. This is humiliating.

The warmth of his fingers slowly penetrates the satin fabric of the gown, and I hate myself for feeling a small tingle in response.

Down, girl. We do not get tingles for liars. Even handsome ones with perfect hair.

Patrick continues working down the line of buttons, unaware of my inward battle for indifference. Finally, he reaches the small of my back and the dress sags. I reach up with both hands to hold it in place before spinning out of his reach. “Thank you! That’s good, I can take it from here.” I give him a grimace, which is as close as I can muster to a smile.

“Of course, happy to help.” He walks stiffly over to the closet and grabs a slim black toiletry bag before beating a hasty retreat. The bedroom door closes with a soft click, and my shoulders sag in relief.

This is not how I pictured my wedding night going.

✽✽✽

When I wake up the next morning, it takes me a minute to process where I am. The beams overhead are pale and unfamiliar, and my foggy brain slowly recalls that this is our honeymoon beach cottage. I frown, remembering our very non-traditional wedding night before looking over to see that Patrick is already up from the chaise lounge he claimed as his last night. The sheets are neatly folded and stacked at the end, indicating he’s been up for a while.

Climbing out of bed, I head to the bathroom and go