CARA's POV
The Barbados sun was relentless, pouring through the SUV windows like liquid gold. Even with the air conditioning humming softly, warmth clung to my skin in a way that made me feel too aware of myself. My hands, my lap, the swell of my abdomen beneath the linen blouse Jenny had insisted on packing.
Cooper drove in silence, as always—professional, composed. He wore mirrored sunglasses, his posture perfectly upright even on the winding coastal road. But there was a calmness to him that made his stillness feel less like tension and more like discipline. The kind of man who knew how to disappear into a room without ever actually leaving it.
We passed a row of pastel houses with rusted tin roofs and laundry lines swaying like flags of a quieter war. Bougainvillea spilled over old fences, their color too vivid to be real. For a long time, I said nothing. Then, quietly, I murmured, “It’s beautiful here.”
Cooper nodded once. “It is. The island has its layers. You’ll see.”
There was
