“This is going to be so much fun. So much fun. We will have the best time. I am going to turn you out. Thank you so much,” she breathed. Sanders pulled away a little, looking down at her.

“I think, after everything you've been through, you need this trip, Tatum,” he assured her.

Her name. He said her name. It didn't come out often.

She figured that deserved another present, so she kissed him, as loudly and sloppily as possible.

Three days after Christmas, Tate stood in Logan Airport, feeling very uncomfortable.

She had finally gotten a hold of her sister, and Tate, Ellie, and Ang all met up for Christmas dinner. It was one of the most awkward experiences of her life – which was really saying something. Ang and Ellie barely spoke to each other. Tate had originally wanted to get everyone together to open presents Christmas morning, as well, but she threw that idea out the window and called Sanders, instead.

She tried. She had really tried. He didn't really do Christmas, but Sanders said he would buy a tree and everything, if Tate spent the morning at his house. At Jameson's house. She finally agreed. Sanders picked her up, drove her out there, held her hand as they walked to the house. But she didn't even make it to the front door – halfway across the broad porch, she lost it, and had to lean over a railing and puke.

Sanders didn't bother hiding the grossed out look on his face, but he didn't push her, either. They ate breakfast at an IHOP.

The weeks leading up to her trip, she had been so excited, she could barely contain herself. What to pack, what to wear, what to buy. Looking up all sorts of things that she wanted to do. They were staying in Marbella, one of the southern most cities in Spain, close to Gibraltar. It was probably one of the warmer spots in Europe during the winter, which made her happy. She packed her bikini.

But when Tate woke up the morning they were supposed to leave, she felt nervous for some reason. She didn't have any reason to, she had seen Sanders almost every single day since her birthday. He had shown her their flight itinerary to Spain, the pictures of the hotel they were going to stay in – had even bought tickets for a weekend trip to Paris. What wasn't there to be excited about?

Something wasn't right, though; she just couldn't put her finger on it. As she waited on the other side of security for Sanders, Tate could feel it weighing heavy in her stomach. He had only checked one small bag, which seemed light for Sanders. The entire time she had known him, she had never seen him wear anything twice, so how could he go a whole week or two with just one suitcase full of clothing?

Wait, one week, or two weeks? Holy shit, I have no idea when our return date is.

“Sandy,” Tate started when he finally joined her. He glanced at her, straightening his tie as they walked away from security. “I can't believe I never asked, but when are we coming home?”

“I haven't booked return tickets yet.”

“What!?”

She pulled him to a stop.

“I haven't booked them yet. I figured when you grew tired of Spain, I would simply buy you a ticket home. Very simple. Can we continue?” Sanders asked, trying to pull his arm free of her grip.

“That's insane, I don't even want to think about how much that ticket would cost, let alone the swanky resort you booked. How much is all this costing you?” Tate demanded. His eyebrows furrowed together.

“This is a gift, I won't discuss the price. Just know that cost is never a problem for me. I had to cancel the hotel reservations, anyway. A more suitable location became available,” he informed her. She wouldn't let go of his sleeve, so he just started walking forward. Tate was forced to follow.

“What? That place looked amazing – where are we staying that's better than that?” she asked, her mind whirling.

“The area we are going to is referred to as the Costa Del Sol, renowned for its boating. I thought a yacht would be more in order,” Sanders replied.

Tate knew what the Costa Del Sol was; her father had never taken them there, but she was well aware of its reputation. She wondered if she'd even be allowed in the town, or if they would request bank statements first.

“You rented a yacht!? For just the two of us? This is insane,” she repeated her earlier sentiment. Sanders finally managed to pull his sleeve free.

“This is all very carefully planned, just for you. I would ask that you trust me on all things,” he said, cutting his eyes towards her.

Tate pressed her lips together and glared at him, but didn't say anything else. Ooohhh, Sanders was a clever man. She trusted him implicitly, but that was also a scary thing. Tate never wanted to offend him by not showing her faith in him, so of course, she went along with anything he said. She would go along with him for now.

But something was most very, definitely, off.

The plane ride was long, and she slept fitfully through most of it. They had to switch planes in Paris, and she seriously considered making a run for it. Or asking Sanders if they could just stay there. But as they walked through Charles de Gaulle Airport, Tate couldn't help but notice something.

Sanders looked happy. Sure, he wasn't smiling, but he had a lighter step. His eyes didn't look so intense. If she hadn't known any better, she would almost say he seemed excited. While she loved Sanders with her whole heart, and knew that he cared a great deal about her, Tate couldn't fathom him being excited about taking a trip with her. Half the time, she almost felt like he stuck around to make sure she didn't stick her finger in a light socket, like a babysitter.