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71

In less than 24 hours since Presley had told Charles that she wanted to talk, she had arranged flights to meet her husband in Tulum, and he was to take the journey from the capital to the coast to be reunited with her.

Despite Charles's jubilation at finally getting to see her again, and this time without the shadow of Milo Crusoe, he couldn't help but be incredibly nervous. When Presley had suggested that they spend some time together, she had also told him that she wanted to talk and in his experience, when a woman says 'we need to talk', usually what follows is never fun.

She would be landing at the airstrip shortly, and Charles was nervously awaiting her arrival. Even though he wasn't sure what he was walking into, he had brought a bouquet of peonies with him as Charles remembered reading an article in which Presley had noted that they were her favourite.

Charles tapped his foot on the tarmac; he leant against the Ferrari that he had been loaned for the week. The driver only hoped that she had travelled light as there was not much space for luggage. Charles took out his phone and saw that he had a missed call from Milo, who had left a voicemail. He lifted it to his ear to listen to the message.

"Hey, bro, I'm just calling to check in and let you know that I am completely behind you and Presley. I know things sometimes seem confusing, and maybe I cross a line, but I am trying to squash my feelings for her so that she can give you two a chance. We had a long conversation, as I'm sure you two will as well – and I really hope you two can figure things out. I'm rambling, I know, but yeah, just, *sigh* I'm sorry I got in the way; I will take a step back so that you two can figure things out."

Charles gulped as he listened to the rest of the voicemail, and if it was an indication of things to come, he wasn't sure how he was going to get through the trip without shedding a tear. He could hear the pain and guilt in his best friend's voice, and every time he spoke about Presley, it seemed that he couldn't get his words out.

The driver didn't have too much time to think about it as in the distance he saw the small jet land and eventually taxi its way to the main stand. Charles could see Presley in the window, and shortly the stairs lowered, and his wife appeared in the flesh.

She wore a lilac sundress and a pair of sneakers which was the most casual he had ever seen the fashion designer. Presley's hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she carried a white holdall, which luckily was not too big.

Charles' heart dropped into his stomach as she walked toward him. There was a bounce in her step, which he presumed was a good sign; at least she wanted to be here, unlike the last time when she stormed out of hospitality.

Almost immediately and without thinking, Charles thrust the bouquet of peonies into her face. "I got these for you," He beamed and pressed his lips against her cheek. "Sorry, let me take your bag." He added and placed it in the small trunk.

Presley smiled. She was awkward in his company. It was almost as if they were meeting for the first time, but they weren't. A loud sigh left her lips as she looked her husband up and down; a grin then crept onto her face as she realised that he was wearing a shirt from her collection with Hector Bellerin – her favourite shirt.

The two stood gazing at each other before Presley took the initiative to wrap her arms around his waist and embrace him. Her head rested against his chest, and Charles soon snaked around the girl he had fallen in love with.

"You smell good," Presley whispered as she took a deep breath to fully appreciate the fragrance he was wearing. "I missed this," She added to the surprise of the Ferrari driver, but he nodded in agreement.

The late afternoon Mexican sun beamed down on the couple contently in each other's arms. It was very reminiscent of the few days in Napa Valley shortly after their impromptu marriage. If only they could get back to the Charles and Presley that they were then, perhaps they might stand a chance to figure things out.