hitched•cl•

73

Presley leant back and rested against the cold, stone wall that encompassed the balcony. She brought her knees to her stomach and wrapped her arms tightly around them. A sigh left her lips as she rested her chin on her knees.

The sun had begun to set on yet another lovely day in Tulum, and she watched as the birds set for the skimming horizon. A particularly zesty scent in the air seemed out of place until the brunette heard footsteps coming toward her.

Presley didn't take her eye off the glowing sky until Charles stood before her. "Are you ok?" he asked with a hint of confusion. Presley nodded and smiled at the handsome man who had now sat down opposite her and stretched his legs out.

"One lime and hibiscus mojito for Mrs Leclerc," Charles announced and passed his wife a highball with the cocktail he had made for her. This was the first time he referred to her as Mrs Leclerc since they found out that they were married. Charles watched her face, but she seemed interested in the drink to react to his slip of the tongue.

They lifted their drinks to cheers together, and they then took a sip of the traditional Cuban cocktail. Presley's eyes darted open, "Phwoar, you didn't hold back on the rum?" She coughed as she looked at Charles, who was smirking. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Leclerc?"

Charles put his drink down on the terracotta stones and threw his hands up in defence, but he couldn't wipe the cheeky grin from his face. Presley shook her head with a giggle escaping her mouth when Charles replied that even if he tried to get her drunk, it wasn't like they could get married again.

There was something about how Charles had handled their Vegas wedding that Presley admired. He never seemed concerned about what other people were going to say, and he genuinely, from the get-go, seemed committed to the fashion designer. Sure, his path was slightly less chaotic as he didn't have a psycho ex-boyfriend, and he didn't seem to have as much to lose as she did.

"Why are we sitting on the floor?" Charles pondered as he looked at Presley, still sitting with her knees tight against her chest. "Not that I mind, but are you ok?" He asked, knowing full well that she wasn't.

Presley shrugged her shoulders and bit her lip. Her eyes drew from the cocktail in her hand to the warm blue eyes of Charles, who looked concerned. He cocked his head to the side and gazed at the beauty opposite him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just tired." She chuckled, and Charles could tell that she wasn't being truthful straight away. He furrowed his brow, unsure of what to say. "I mean, we've had two wonderful days, and I have loved them, but we haven't spoken about any of the things we need to," Presley mentioned as she chewed on her lower lip.

Charles sighed as she revealed the reason for her lull. He had done his best to keep Presley so occupied that she was too busy to think about the 'talk' that she desperately wanted to have. It wasn't that he didn't intend to listen to her; he was more scared about the words that would leave her mouth.

When it was just them, things were perfect. Presley could feel herself slowly trusting the Monegasque more and more each day, but this force was still pulling her in a different direction. Milo. And Charles was very aware of the connection that they shared.

Charles lowered his head and picked up his drink, and he wasted no time gulping it down. "So, let's talk?" He motioned firmly and looked to Presley, who was somewhat taken back by his sudden change of tone. "But let's go inside?" Charles suggested, and Presley agreed.

Once inside, Presley sat down in one corner of the sofa whilst Charles poured himself another mojito and picked the bowl of grapes. He thought about sitting next to his wife, but he figured she had placed herself on one side for a reason.