Page 34 of Insta Bride

I woke on a bed of wet sand to the sound of the surf. At least I’d been kicked out of my soft bed and villa at low tide.

The world hated me. Nothing else explained how Elena and I could have spent the perfect day and evening together—as a loved-up couple—withstood all the teasing as the women joked about us going back to the villa on our honeymoon—only for me to wake up alone on the beach.

If Elena was still awake, or when she woke, the only thing we’d agree on would be neither of us expected the night to end like that.

How the fuck?

Even now, I couldn’t believe it.

Then again, what else did I expect? I had twenty-seven years of avoiding relationships with anyone outside my immediate family. They, I could love. The rest of the world—could go and get screwed.

Elena.

For a day, I’d thought Elena and I could be different. After the wakeup call from Bree and Emi, I’d wanted this. My whole plan needed Elena and I to make it to the end, as a couple. I’d heeded the advice to tone down the flirting with other women and go out of my way to be the man and boyfriend she’d want to have around.

It had been easier than I’d expected.

I genuinely liked Elena.

Despite myself, I enjoyed spending time with Elena.

If given the choice of a romantic date with any woman on the island—I’d still choose Elena.

Only, after last night, she’d never choose me.

I’d told her not to ask questions if she didn’t want to know the answers. It had been my only condition before playing truth or dare. A fun, jokey thing. A way for us to get to know each other without the cameras or microphones.

Under the doona, we were safe. The only time we could escape the monitoring was during our hour slots of relationship bonding—code for sex.

Under the doonas and after our third time, we’d started the questions. Why hadn’t she kept it light and fun?

Or had she expected a different answer?

Shit.

I didn’t even know anymore.

A sudden gust of wind blew another fine layer of sand over my goosebumps. I would have preferred the warmth of a blanket or my woman, but the beach was better than a doghouse.

“We’ve covered most embarrassing birthday and Valentine’s Day,” I’d mused last night after making us both a hot chocolate and pulling her closer until her head rested in the crook of my neck. She’d lain so completely and naturally against me. One leg draped over mine, as if it had always belonged.

“So, what’s your poison?” she’d asked. “Animal, vegetable or mineral?”

“Animal,” I’d turned her onto her back, pinning her only to kiss the few places I’d missed during our early rounds. “Always an animal.”

“You want to know if I’m a dog or cat person?”

“I want to ask you about your previous pet. The last guy you kissed—your ex.” I hated thinking there’d been anyone before me but was welcoming the chance to cleanse Elena of any thoughts but me. “What’s the one thing you don’t miss about your ex?”

“Hairy toes,” Elena had immediately replied, not needing a moment to think. “I don’t think there is anything uglier than his hairy toes. I mean, it was almost unnatural.”

Laughing, Elena pushed me off her to visually inspect my feet. “See, these are reasonably, normal toes.”

“I would say my big toe is anything other than normal.”

She’d shaken her head, feigning disbelief, “You would say that. The amount of hair on your chest is relative to the hair on your toes. Normal.”

“But the size?”