Honeymoon from Hell II

by R. L. Mathewson

  They’d do the right thing, he reassured himself as he rolled over onto his other side with a pained groan, wondering when his stomach would stop twisting and turning and finally put him out of his fucking misery.

  “I think we should give this another chance,” the doctor said calmly as he held up a bottle of pills, making Trevor’s stomach twist in agony at the memory of what the last pills that the doctor forced down his throat had done.

  “No,” he managed to croak out as he buried his face in his pillow, willing for the ship to stop shaking, moving, rocking, whatever the hell they wanted to call it, but it needed to stop immediately.

  “I’m sorry about the last pills, but these should help you,” the lying son of a bitch promised.

  Clenching his jaw shut tightly so that the sneaky bastard couldn’t shove any more poison in his mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as much as he dared, which wasn’t a hell of a lot. God, he wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that every single movement and breath that he took made him wish for death or the fact that he’d just spent the last five hours sitting in a buffet unable able to eat a single bite of food, because just the thought of eating any of that food had made him queasy.

  “I need you to try these pills,” the sick bastard that had somehow managed to get a medical license said more firmly while he laid there, waiting for his loving wife to return so that he could say goodbye to her.

  Grimacing, he shook his head, slightly.

  “Mr. Bradford, I promise you that these will help,” the doctor said with a sigh of exasperation that was going to get his ass kicked.

  “That’s what you said the last time,” Trevor managed to bite out, struggling not to lose what was left of his breakfast at the reminder of what happened as soon as the last pills had hit his system.

  “Some people react badly to those pills once sea sickness kicks in, but these pills should do the-”

  “What’s going on?” his loving wife asked, interrupting the bastard trying to kill him and making him sag with relief because he knew that everything would be okay now.

  “Are you his wife?” the doctor asked with a slight hesitation that Trevor found insulting, but since he could barely move without praying for death, he decided to add it to the growing list of offenses that was going to get the smug bastard thrown overboard just as soon as the world stopped spinning.

  “Yes, what’s going on?” Zoe asked, for some reason sounding a bit impatient and not at all like a loving, devoted wife should sound like when she found her husband, the man she loved and adored, on the verge of death.

  At least, in his opinion she didn’t…

  “He has a touch of sea sickness and won’t take these pills that will-”

  Before the doctor could finish spouting more of his bullshit, he suddenly found himself shoved onto his back, his wife straddling his chest, and not in the good way, pinning his arms by his sides, his nose pinched and two large pills shoved in his mouth all while the woman that he loved glared down at him, daring him to refuse swallowing the pills that were guaranteed to make him sicker.

  When he turned his head to spit the pills out, she slapped one of her dainty little hands over his mouth and tightened her pinch on his nose as she calmly said with a serene smile that actually frightened him a bit, “Swallow.”

  He did, but not because he was afraid of his wife, which there may have been a slight possibility at that moment that he was, but because he was curious what the hell had happened to make his normally sane wife lose her fucking mind. He could have easily shoved her off and freed himself, but the thought surprisingly never even entered his mind. He would never do anything that could hurt her.

  So, he laid there, glaring right back at her as he slowly swallowed the pills, dry. As soon as the pills went down his throat she removed her hand and calmly got up and walked towards the door as though this little break in sanity never happened. Even the doctor that had been trying to get him to swallow the damn pills for the past half hour stood there, slack jawed as he stared after Zoe.

  Obviously feeling the need to explain her crazed actions, she turned around, cleared her throat delicately and explained, “They’re serving fried chicken in the lower restaurant in twenty minutes,” she said with a shrug and a sheepish smile that made the doctor take a hasty step back, probably thinking that the woman was insane, but since Trevor knew that she was simply trying to keep up with the twins that she was carrying, he simply placed his hand over his stomach, rolled over onto his side and promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter 7

  “Can I get you anything else, ma’am?” Edmund, the cute waiter who’d she’d gotten to know quite well over the past two days, asked as he picked up another empty glass and plate.

  “Another banana split and a chocolate milk?” she asked, not quite able to meet his gaze as she stepped aside so that he could place the cheeseburger platter, plate of lasagna, American chop suey, chicken tenders with French fries and onion rings on the table that he’d just cleared.

  “With extra bananas,” he said with a smile and an understanding nod as he pulled out his tablet and added her order while she stood there, trying not to think about the fact that he’d probably spent more time in her room over the past two days, bringing her food, than anywhere else.

  “Please,” she said right around the time that the pained groan sounded from the floor reminding her to ask for something else. “And more Gatorade, please?”

  “Certainly,” Edmund said with a nod as he grabbed the last empty plate and placed it on the cart, which earned a small grunt that they both knew by this point meant, “Thank you.”

  He started to push the cart towards the door when the large tan hand was suddenly raised in the air, holding a twenty-dollar bill. With a smile and a murmured thank you, Edmund accepted the money and continued to push the cart towards the door that he’d left propped open. Once he’d pushed the cart out, he allowed the door to close behind him.

  “Do you want to try and eat something?” she asked the large man curled up in the fetal position on the floor as she cut the cheeseburger in half.

  He didn’t answer her, but he did open one eye so that he could narrow it accusingly on her before he shut it and resumed softly groaning miserably from the spot that he’d claimed on the floor by the door as his. The only time he’d left that spot in the last two days was to use the bathroom, take a shower, three attempted baths to soothe his stomach and one time to crawl on his hands and knees to the balcony with the hopes that the fresh air would somehow make him feel better.

  Nothing of course worked.

  Well, technically the pills worked since they stopped him from getting sick every time that he smelled food and managed to knock him out for a few hours at a time, but they also made him dizzy, his vision a bit blurry and left him incredibly thirsty. He’d probably gone through two gallons of Gatorade a day, which of course meant that he would have to get up more frequently for trips to the bathroom, which exacerbated his dizziness and would allow his nausea to kick in once again.

  The poor guy just couldn’t seem to catch a break, she thought with a pitying shake of her head and a small sigh as she picked up half her burger and took a big, satisfying bite that nearly earned a moan of appreciation, but she knew better than to do that. Not with poor Trevor stuck on the floor, starving, grumbling and having an absolutely miserable time.

  Not that she was having a great time, because she definitely wasn’t, not with Trevor like this, but she had to admit that it was rather nice to get a break from the constant hunger pains that came with carrying Bradford twins. When she wasn’t eating, and she still couldn’t believe that she could eat so much and not even feel the slightest bit full, she was sitting on the floor, holding Trevor’s head in her lap and holding his hand as he suffered through this.

  Part of her wished that they’d never come, but the other part of her, the one that couldn’t help smiling whenever she thought about how sweet Trevor was to
bring her on this trip, was glad that they’d come. She’d never been on a trip before and even though most people would probably rank this as a horrible trip, one that they’d probably pray would end soon, she was actually enjoying herself…sort of.

  Bad or good, this was her first real trip and she was going to do her best to enjoy it, even while she rubbed Trevor’s back as the poor man dry heaved in the bathroom. Most people would probably call her crazy for trying to enjoy this trip when it had obviously gone to hell quickly, but she didn’t care. She was on her honeymoon with her incredibly handsome, albeit sick, husband and she was determined to enjoy herself.

  “Kill…me…,” Trevor groaned as he dragged himself across the short distance, wrapped his hand gently around her ankle and held on even as he caressed her ankle with small circles with his thumb.

  Taking another bite of her burger, which she’d like to point out was really good, she knelt down on the floor next to him so that she could run the fingers of her free hand through his short, soft hair.

  “It will be fine,” she promised him even as she took another bite of that incredibly juicy burger and wondered if she could get Edmund to bring her another one before the dinner rush started.

  *-*-*-*

  “Are you sure about this?” Zoe asked as she continued to rub his back while he stood there, holding onto the railing as he struggled not to lose his Gatorade breakfast.

  “Yes!” he bit out, glaring at the gangplank with a determination that most of the people rushing past them found a little frightening, but he didn’t give a damn.

  He was getting off this damn boat today, going to the medical center and getting the medication that his uncle called in for him so that he could fix this damn honeymoon. Taking a slow, deep breath, he forced his feet to work and take him past the gawking tourists, concerned cruise employees and made his way to the line of taxis, keeping his wife’s hand firmly in his.

  “Maybe we should look into getting a hotel room and see about getting a flight home?” Zoe suggested, shooting him another worried glance while they made their way slowly to the taxi stationed in front of the wharf.

  “No,” he said firmly, determined to fix this honeymoon even if it killed him and judging by the way this honeymoon had been going so far, it damn well might just do that.

  “It’s fine if you want to go home,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile, letting him know that she meant it.

  For a moment, he considered giving in and saying the hell with it just so that he would never have to set foot on that ship again, but he just couldn’t force the words from his mouth when he knew that it would mean taking away the first vacation that Zoe had ever had. She deserved this vacation and he was going to do everything within his power to make sure that she always remembered it and not because he hadn’t been able to leave the fetal position for the last two days.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as she joined him in the cab that had damn well better take them where he could get this fixed.

  “To pick up something that my uncle had shipped over,” he said, praying that his uncle had been able to pull this off, because otherwise he was going to have to spend the next week curled up on the floor of their suite, dying a slow, painful death.

  Since that wouldn’t help him romance his wife, he was going to have to do something about it now while he had the chance.

  *-*-*-*

  “How are you feeling?” Zoe asked, still unable to believe the change in him.

  “Great,” he said with a smile as he settled back on the lounger and released a loud satisfied sigh that let her know that he was feeling a hundred times better, but it was the fact that they’d just spent the last five hours in the buffet that let her know that Trevor was over the terrifying sea sickness that had once kept him hostage in their room.

  “Good,” she mumbled, giving up on trying to force a smile since he had his eyes closed and couldn’t see her anyway and glanced around the large deck, noting all the women, and a few men, who just couldn’t seem to take their eyes off her husband.

  Not that she could blame them, she thought with a wistful sigh as she stole a glance towards her husband and-

  “Umm, why exactly are you shoving pharmaceutical bottles in my face?” she felt obligated to ask as she sat back just far enough so that she could grab the brown bottle that he insisted on giving her out of her face.

  “It’s not a pharmaceutical bottle,” he grumbled, sounding oddly content as he laid there in the sun, getting his already tanned, perfectly defined muscles even tanner, which she had to admit, did make her want to lick her lips in appreciation.

  “Are you going to rub some of that on me or what?” he asked around a small yawn as he rolled back over onto his stomach and laid his head on his folded arms as he waited for her to commence with the rubbing.

  “What exactly is this?” she asked, lowering her sunglasses on her nose so that she could squint down at the bottle in her hands.

  It was a bottle of sunblock, the sport kind that guaranteed coverage for up to four hours, which actually had her shoulders sagging in defeat and fighting back the real urge to cry. She hadn’t slept much in the last couple of days because she’d been too busy either shoving food in her mouth in a desperate attempt to appease the Bradfords that she was carrying or taking care of the one currently giving his body a little wiggle to remind her that he required someone to rub sunscreen on him when all she wanted to do was go back to their room and sleep. She’d planned on getting a little nap on the beach today since this was the first dock day, but her husband apparently had other plans that had taken them all over the island, hanging out in a waiting room that was kept at a crisp thirty below zero, then promptly dragged her to the other side of the island so that he could fill several prescriptions before she was dragged back to the ship where Trevor slapped on a seasickness patch that his uncle had prescribed him and proceeded to check to see if the medication worked.

  It did, but just to make sure that it wasn’t a fluke, they’d spent five hours in the buffet room so that he could try everything at least a dozen times before declaring with that incredibly sexy smile of his that they were going to start their honeymoon the right way, tonight. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t interested in started their honeymoon. What she was interested in was the queen-sized bed waiting for her back in their room.

  “Trevor, I-”

  “Start on my legs?” he suggested, cutting her off and making her sigh heavily, mostly because she was starting to get a little cranky.

  “Fine,” she muttered unhappily as she shook the bottle, flicked the top open and turned it over to squeeze some in her hand when she noticed the hot platinum blonde with medically enhanced assets standing over them, running her eyes hungrily over Trevor even as she shot him a knowing smile, letting Zoe know that the blonde had set her sights on Trevor.

  Normally, she might have explained to the woman that he was married, screwed with the blonde’s head for her own enjoyment, but today all she wanted to do was go curl up in bed and go sleep for the next twelve or so hours. Knowing that she had no other choice in the matter, she did what she had to do.

  She held up the bottle to the blonde and with a tilt of her head gestured towards Trevor, who looked close to falling asleep as he waited for his sunscreen body massage.

  With a coy smile, the blonde accepted the bottle and Zoe made her escape, too exhausted to care that she’d just given an incredibly hot woman the right to run her hands over her husband, Zoe got to her feet, yawned and somehow managed to make it to her room where she promptly passed out just as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 8

  “Zoe?” he said, glaring down at the small woman curled up on the bed, hugging his pillow and looking absolutely exhausted, he realized with a frown. He tossed the half empty bottle of sunscreen on the couch and was about to sit down on the bed next to her when he remembered the half-gallon of sunscreen coating his back and remained on his feet.


  “Baby?”

  Nothing.

  “The ship’s sinking,” he said gently, leaning over to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, making sure to move his arm out the way before she could swat at him as she grumbled angrily in her sleep.

  Sighing heavily, because he had no idea what else he should do, he straightened as he looked down at his beautiful wife before he glanced over at the alarm clock and couldn’t help but sigh again as he looked back down at his wife. It looked like they weren’t going to be able to have that romantic stroll around the ship before dinner like he’d planned.

  Well, that was fine, he decided as he grabbed a pair of boxers and headed for the shower, re-adjusting his plans for the rest of the night to accommodate her nap. By the time that he’d finished his shower and was sure that he no longer smelled like he’d bathed in a gallon of sunscreen, he’d readjusted his plans for the night.

  They’d still have a romantic night. He’d make damn sure of it. They’d just have to start their romantic evening a little later than he would have liked, but that’s okay, because he would make it work in his favor. If they got dressed now they’d still have time for a short romantic stroll around the deck before they made it to the restaurant in time for the reservations that he’d made once he’d determined that he wasn’t going to die on this ship.

  After dinner he’d take her for another stroll, stop by the top deck where he was told there would be soft light and romantic music. He planned on holding her in his arms until the moment was right. Then he would pull out the necklace that he’d bought for her