Snapshot

by Kay Cove

My mother used to tell me true love transcends death. But how would she know? She didn’t marry her true love. Then again, neither did I.

“Writing letters is a lost art, honey.” “What’s that thing you always told me? Anything worthwhile, you should say it to their face. Right? Letters are for lost apologies.” Don’t I know. It’s why I write so many.

“Dex, listen to me. Eventually, you won’t just be grappling with decisions you’re currently making. You’ll be wrestling with ghosts. Suffocating from decisions that were clearly mistakes in hindsight. It never gets easier. The load never gets lighter. Wealth will always be a malignant tumor, feeding off your soul. Greed grows, want grows, all while you starve what you actually need.” “Being?” His question comes out in a gruff whisper. “Love. But love isn’t about pretty girls and the pretty rings they want wrapped around their fingers. Love is about companionship.” “Grandma, I’m not looking for⁠—” “But,” I say, interrupting him, “you can’t find the right someone until you find yourself. Do you understand that?”

“What about income? Am I just fired, or are you kicking me off the bank accounts, too?” I smirk. “I just bought you a dive shop. Perhaps sell some flippers.” He scowls and then mutters, “Sassy,” under his breath.

He’s good to me. So, I ignore the fact that we have about as much sexual chemistry as two puffer fish. That’s what kissing him feels like sometimes. Two people puckering their lips and bumping into each other face first. I swear he still gets a little startled whenever I slip him tongue.

“I can take an early lunch. Do you want to talk about it? Maybe over some Subway?” I cinch one eye closed and shake my head at her. “Don’t try to butter me up with a footlong Italian B.M.T. with all the fixings, extra pickles, mayo, and the special vinaigrette. I know you just want to lecture me about getting fired.” She raises her eyebrows at my response. “I do. But that description was quite specific. Sounds like you want a sandwich.” I raise my eyebrows right back at her. “Are you paying?” “Sure,” she says. “Can we skip the lecture?” “No,” she snaps. But my stomach grumbles right on cue. “Fine. Sandwich and lecture, then. Your car or mine?” Mom scoffs. “I’m not getting into that metal death trap you call a vehicle. I don’t even like my baby driving in that thing. I thought this job was going to get you a little closer to a down payment on something safer.”

“N-O-E-L.” I say the letters individually. “What?” she asks. “How would you pronounce that?” She narrows her eyes but plays along. “No-Elle.” “Right.” I agree with a quick nod. “That’s what I said when the caller script came in. ‘Good afternoon, am I speaking with Mr. Noel?’” I mimic, in my customer service agent voice. “I was wrong. It was pronounced ‘Noll,’ like rhymes with toll.” “Lennox, where are we going with this?” “Well, I apologized for mispronouncing his name, corrected myself, and asked how I could help him with his policy.” “Okay…” “Then he proceeded to call me an illiterate, uneducated cunt, and told me to use whatever few brain cells I had to transfer him to someone who spoke English. I had his policy details in front of me. He’s seventy-two years old.” Mom’s jaw drops. “That was unnecessary of him.” “No, Mom,” I grumble. “It was actually very necessary. It helped me pull my head out of my ass. I’m not going to spend one more minute at a job that cares more about metrics than their employees getting bullied and harassed. It’s not only today. I have a dozen stories just like it. Every single day, I’m getting metaphorically spit on and slapped in the face. I’ll work the long hours. I’ll come in on weekends. I’ll even scrub toilets. But I’m not going to work a job where I’m not respected like a goddamn human being should be.”

“Why didn’t you get divorced?” I ask point blank. “Lennox.” “What? I just mean on paper, not actually breaking up. Dad said divorce would’ve given you a fresh start from his record. Why didn’t you?” Mom shakes her head like my question is silly. “Honey, marriage is so much more than paperwork. I’m committed to your father—his mistakes, his burdens, his pain. They are mine as well. I’m not going to walk away from my commitment just because it’s financially convenient to do so. I didn’t marry your father for what he could give me. I married him because I love him… Also, a little bit for his body, because your dad”—Mom breathes out a low whistle— “is sexy.” She pumps her eyebrows twice. I glower at her as she snickers at my discomfort. “I would endure a lobotomy to unhear that.” “Oh, come on,” she teases, “every kid wants cool parents who still have the hots for each other.” “I assure you they don’t.”

“Lennox,” she clarifies. “And that guy is Charlie. My ex. I hate when he calls me that.” “Sorry. Lennox, then. I’m Dex.” “It’s okay. You didn’t know.” Her flushed cheeks bunch into bubbly half-spheres when she smiles. “Nice to meet you, Dex.” “So, were you guys serious?” “I was serious. Him? Not so much. See this?” She taps her collarbone as she abandons the sink and approaches me. I have to duck down to read the small tattoo. My stomach churns when I realize it’s Charlie’s name in an elegant calligraphy. “My constant reminder of the dumb things I’ve done drunk. This stupid tattoo…and Charlie.” “Why’d you guys break up?” “About a week after this mistake”—she rubs her finger against her collarbone like his name is a smudge she can remove—“I caught him balls deep in a girl from the restaurant he manages. And you want to know the gaslighting bullshit he threw my way when I found out?” God, I feel bad. She’s trying to play it cool, but I see the way she sucks in her lips to keep her reaction under control. I know that face. This girl doesn’t like to cry. Or doesn’t want me to see her cry. “What’d he say?” “He told me that I was too high maintenance in expecting him to remain monogamous. All the ‘woke girls’ are into open relationships these days.” “He said that right to your face?” She nods. “Wow. He’s got a pair. I’ll give him that. I hope you kicked his ass. And if you didn’t, you’ll need to excuse me for a moment so I can.” “That’s sweet… And you’re hot.” She scrunches her ...

“Then if it’s working, may I use your shower? I’ll be really quick. I don’t know what Charlie was drinking, but I smell awful.” Now that she mentions it, the smell of her sweet citrus perfume has been doused out. “Sure. You want me to throw your clothes in the washer?” She twists her lips. “Won’t that take a while?” “I think my machine has a rapid wash setting. Why? Am I keeping you from something?” “It’s your party. Don’t you need to get back down there?” She glances over my shoulder. I find her eyes again. “You brought me beer.” I wink at her. “Stay. Hang out. We can turn on the TV.” She tries to hold in her laugh, but it breaks through her lips. “Are you inviting me to Netflix and chill?” “What is that?” “You don’t know what a pitch jar is or what ‘Netflix and chill’ means? Are you a million years old?” I lift my shoulders. “I had a…let’s call it sheltered childhood.” Lennox’s teenage years were probably filled with public school and house parties. I went to private school and graduated early. And when I drank as a teenager, it wasn’t because I was sneaking around. It was because I was spending a lot of time in Germany, where it was legal to do so. I didn’t have the urge to rebel. I liked school. I liked traveling. Grandma and Grandpa filled my life with all the extravagant adventures money could buy. Looking back, they were probably trying to keep me distracted. Between never knowing my dad and losing my mom at seven, I could’ve turned into a troubled, brooding teenage...

“So the shower is a little complicated,” Dex says, leading me to the corner of his bathroom. “There are two nozzles. One for each showerhead. But the water gets hot fast, so please be careful. Don’t crank the handles all the way.” “Did you seriously just ‘mansplain’ turning on a shower to me?” “I was just—” He stops, holding up his hands, a smile breaking free from his pretend-offended expression. “Wow. You’re just a little shit starter, aren’t you?” “Yeah, I’m trouble. Feel free to kick me out.” His laugh tapers off to a breathy chuckle. “No, Trouble, that’s okay. I think I’ll keep you. I’ll leave you to shower in peace. But just know if you scald yourself, the ‘I told you so’ I give you will be loud and relentless.” “I thought you were going to stay and watch.” He licks his lips and tries to control his grin. “It was just playful flirting, Lennox. I don’t think I could watch you and not…” He clears his throat. “Anyway, I’ll be right outside in the bedroom. Maybe I’ll go sign up for a Netflix account.” He winks, and I burst out laughing. A laugh that brews deep from my belly and overflows. Oh, I’m definitely in trouble. He’s so sexy. So flirty. Funny. Protective. Charming. Sexy again. I just want to rub up against his body like a cat and make him my favorite scratching post.

I don’t like the ocean and I don’t want to get scuba certified. My top five worst fears go like this: One, getting eaten by a shark. Two, getting bitten by a shark and then bleeding to death in the ocean. Three, being pulled to the ocean floor by a giant octopus and being squeezed to death. Four, getting eaten by a shark again. Five, getting mistaken for a seal and an orca crushing my bones like I’m a doggie chew toy.

I don’t believe in instant love. But I do believe in chemistry. And yes, I believe it’s chemical. Like a physical feeling. Stupid, giddy, butterfly tingles. The kind of overwhelming attraction that makes all reason leave your brain. Two people are either destined to have it or not. Love takes time to grow, but chemistry explodes right out of the gate. And if my hunch is right, Dex and I most definitely have chemistry.

“Look, if I can be honest, I haven’t made a lot of friends here. I normally don’t have much in common with people, but you’re easy to talk to. I like you.” “Those are all good things, right?” “Yeah, great things.” His expression turns solemn, and I know he’s about to say something I don’t agree with. “But in my experience, sex is the best way to fuck up a budding friendship. And I guess what I’m saying is, as much as I’d like to see you naked, I think I’d prefer to see you again tomorrow. Is that okay?” “Oh, yeah, that’s actually…nice. We can go slow. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression here.” The flood of excitement returns, making the hairs rise on the back of my neck. I thought Dex would be a fun night, but now he’s saying all this stuff about seeing me tomorrow. What are the chances that he’s actually a freaking decent guy? Thank you, universe. I was due for a little good luck. “I’m not usually a hook-up kind of girl. I think I kind of got caught up in the moment. But, full transparency, I’m a relationship junkie. So, it's great if you want to slow down, hang out tomorrow first, and see where things go⁠—” “I’m not,” Dex interrupts. He sucks in his lips, a look of remorse on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m not a relationship junkie, to borrow your words.” This conversation is giving me whiplash. Hope, then bitter disappointment swinging like a pendulum back and forth with every verbal exchange. “Oh, so you meant see me naked or see me tomorrow.” “Right.” An uncomfo...

When we got back to San Jose Del Cabo, I learned my grandma had died alone in her sleep. She called me the night she passed and left a bizarre message that will live in my head for the rest of my life. Her words were slurred, and she spoke like a broken record. Over and over, she kept telling me that there’s a reason she did what she did. That she trusts me, and I need to make the choice with my heart, not my head. Grandma kept saying not to make the mistake she did, because if she could just go back, she would’ve chosen daisies.

In Vegas, I’m a normal guy. I don’t spend a lot of money there. My house is nice, but it definitely doesn’t say billionaire. I don’t buy flashy things. My dive shop was almost bankrupt until my consultant, Avery, swooped in and saved us with proper marketing. Overall, things have been calm, and I’ve been flying under the radar easily. Leah is still unaware of who I really am. None of my friends in Vegas know I’m the sole heir of one of the wealthiest families in the world. Hessler Group owns three major cruise companies. Luxe Adventure, Serenity, and Victorian. While the cruise names may be common knowledge, people rarely look up the owners behind them.

Three years ago, when the quirky showstopper with purple hair appeared at my bedroom door, trying to contribute to a pitch jar, I sucked in a breath I’ve been holding ever since. I’ve held on to Lennox like a troll does its treasure. I keep her close however I can. For us, that means friendship. It’s not like I’m not torturously tempted to yank her long hair back, tear her eccentric little outfits off, and bend her naked body over whatever surface she’d let me. I’d show her what all these clowns she dates are lacking. But Lennox has something I’ve never encountered before. She’s genuine. Full of raw honesty and good intentions. It fuels me in the best way. The moment I was ready to give up on people, Lennox gave me hope. She excavated a side of me I was trying to bury. I needed her friendship so much more than I needed to fuck her, so I had no choice but to keep the boundaries in place. There’s no faster way to lose a friend than getting sex, feelings, and money involved. Therefore, I try not to look at anything except her eyes or be alone with her too often. I shake her boyfriend’s hand out of respect. I avoid her like the plague after a dive when she’s peeled off her wetsuit, and her tits, barely concealed in string bikinis, are calling out to me like a persistent-as-fuck siren. I keep my dick tucked away and all my secrets hidden. She doesn’t know who my family is or my net worth. Lennox doesn’t know anything about the other side of me… She wouldn’t like him. Or maybe s...

“I’d offer to pay for you, but Pocket Protectors probably wouldn’t appreciate that very much.” “Don’t call Alan that,” she scolds me. “What?” I ask defensively. “You call him that.” “When I call him that, it’s a playful term of endearment. When you call him that, you’re making fun of him.” I hate Alan more than all of Lennox’s other past boyfriends. She’s had a slew of dalliances since I passed on my tiny window of opportunity three years ago. She’s always capturing some guy’s attention or another. But they end up disappointing her quickly and never last long. Alan is different. Not her usual type. He’s genuinely a good guy. I roll my eyes just thinking about it. He might actually last. One day, I’m going to be front row at their wedding, smiling at the beautiful bride who should’ve been mine and daydreaming about beating Alan to a pulp.

“Len, you still there?” “Yes. So, you’re moving?” I nod slowly, then remember she can’t see me. “Yes. I’m in no hurry to sell the house, though. You, Finn, and Avery can still use the hot tub whenever you want.” “Hm,” she says, her tone unmistakably peeved. “What does ‘hm’ mean?” “Funny that you think your hot tub is what I’ll miss.” “Aw, okay. Don’t get all sad and sappy on me yet. I’ll be home in a few days to grab some things, and we can shed a few tears then.” I swear I hear her sniffle which is odd because Lennox doesn’t cry. Ever. Or she’s strategic about hiding it. In the three years I’ve known her, I’ve seen her eyes tear up once, but that was when she closed the car door on her toe and nearly broke it. “You know I’m always only a phone call away for you,” I assure her. “Really? Because you suck with your phone, Dex. I’m shocked you answered today.”

Maybe I should just get an extra phone and only give Lennox the number. Is that inappropriate to have a dedicated phone for a woman who’s in love with another man? “I’ll get better with it. From now on if you call, I’ll answer, Trouble. I promise.” She laughs. “All these years, and you still call me that. Do you remember when you gave me that nickname?” Of course, I do. “The day we met. You want me to stop?” “No,” she says softly. “I love nicknames. And thank you regarding the trip. I’ll figure out how to pay you back.” “So you’ll go?” “Yes,” she replies. “Good.”

In the matter of Hessler Group Holdings, I nominate Dex Malcolm Hessler’s legal spouse to inherit my majority shares in full, which are then to be locked from transfer or distribution for a minimum of a twelve-month period.

“You said his name.” His words seem to come out in slow motion. “What?” I ask, lowering my phone. “The night I walked in on you on the bed. When you…you know…you said Dex’s name.”

Alan scoots in closer, wrinkling our picnic blanket. Rubbing his thumbs under my eyes, where tears should be. “Just tell me how you feel.” “What’s off with us?” I whisper. He looks away; suddenly, the green-brown grass is captivating to him. “I guess what’s off is the fact that you think something’s off. This is all news to me.” “You don’t feel it?” He forces himself to face me. Holding my gaze, he slowly shakes his head. “Not until about ten seconds ago. How long have you been unhappy?” “I’m not unhappy.” I grab his face in both of my hands, his barely-there stubble scraping against my palms. “Not at all.” He glances at my phone. “Then why don’t you smile like that when you’re texting me?” “Like what?” I ask, my tone defensive. “And how would you know? You can’t see my face when we’re texting.” “It’s just a metaphor. What I’m trying to say is there have been little clues I’ve been ignoring. I see how things are going to end with us. And I think…” He exhales deeply. I shake my head fervently. “Alan, please don’t. We were having a perfectly nice picnic. I’ll put my phone away. You have my full attention.” “I’d rather we face things now than drag this out.” I ignore the throbbing in my head that’s matching the pounding in my heart. A perfect synchronization of rapid pulsing. It’s my instincts telling me something bad is about to happen. Pretending like I’m composed, I ask, “Drag what out?” “Us. You want to break up, don’t you?” “Don’t be ridiculous. You are the best man I’ve...

Eventually, Alan scoots a little closer and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me close. His hand is steady, and his breath is even. If he’s nervous, he’s hiding it well. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m going to be okay.” He tenderly kisses my forehead, and ironically, it’s the most intimacy we’ve ever had. I should’ve known it would precede our end. I give him a weak smile. “I’m not. How could you ever forgive me for this?” “For what? Your honest feelings?” he asks. His smile is small, but he tries. “How about this? Do you want me to break your heart so you don’t have to break mine?”

“Lennox,” he murmurs in my ear. “I think our relationship has run its course. I want to break up.”

“Are you headed somewhere?” I ask, taking a step back off his porch. “We,” he says, pointing to his chest, then mine, back and forth, “need something stronger than beer. We’re going out.” “I’m in jean shorts, a tank top, and cowgirl boots. And I’m sweaty and smelly from moving stuff into my car all day.” “Yeah, what’s up with the boots?” “As I was clearing stuff out, I found them in the back of my closet. I put them on to see if they still fit. They’re so comfortable, I forgot to take them off.” “Well, they’re perfect for where we’re headed.” He steps out of the house onto the porch right in front of me. I normally don’t let myself get this close to Dex. My knees get weak when he’s this close. To Dex, every look, touch, and smile is normal and friendly. To me? It’s an exercise of self-control. It’s been three years since I made a move, and he clearly indicated he’d rather be friends. For three years, I’ve pretended like we made the right decision. When he leans down, he puts his face near my breasts, and I pray to every god, shadow, and spirit that exists that he can’t hear how hard my heart is pounding. He sniffs twice. “You’re good. You smell fine to me. Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

“By the way, why are we here? I thought you hated dive bars.” “I do. But you love them.” I tell her how I feel about her the only way I can. I get as close to the line as possible without crossing it. She smiles, but it disappears quickly. “I’m going to miss the shit out of you, Dex Hessler.” Before I can say anything else, her long hair is swishing behind her as she slides right into place with the line dance.

“Another?” A voice behind me startles me. A bartender with a short blond ponytail and a small lip ring taps the glass top counter, and I swivel around in my stool to face her. “No, thank you. I have to drive when she’s done dancing.” The bartender lets out a low whistle as she looks over my shoulder. “You might be here a while. She looks like she has stamina.” I laugh as I shake the ice cubes in my almost-empty glass. “That she does.” “How about a Coke with a lime?” “Sure. Thanks.” “How long have you guys been together?” The bartender grabs a glass from under the bar and stuffs it to the brim with ice before filling it with the soda gun. “She’s just a friend,” I automatically reply. After three years of my odd friendship with Lennox, I’m used to this question. I shut it down every time. She scoffs. “Yeah. Okay.” “What?” I ask, acting like I don’t know where her skepticism stems from. “Oh, nothing. I also stare at my friends longingly from the bar when we go out.” She smirks as she places the soda in front of me. “Want a straw?” I roll my eyes. “No, thanks.” “So, what’s the problem? Is she with someone?” I widen my eyes at the nosy bartender. “Do you have other customers? Don’t let me keep you.” She cackles. “Come on. Humor me. It’s a slow night. I’m bored and curious.” Grumbling, I fold my hands together and rest my chin on my knuckles. “We’re from two very different worlds. I might’ve given her the wrong impression about what I really am.” “Who,” the bartender corrects, t...

“Once you know real grief, trauma, or betrayal, you can’t go back to living in a world where that doesn’t exist.”

“When I was little, I used to tell everyone I wanted to have a high-powered career and be important. I mean I was an ambitious little thing. Screw doctor or lawyer, I wanted to be a surgeon or supreme court justice. But after what Dad went through…” “Now, what do you want?” She leans away from me, breaking free of my embrace. “To be happy. I don’t want to get caught up with money, things, status, or any of that bullshit that made my dad go to the pit of despair. I don’t want money to ever make me feel failure the way it did for my dad. It was painful enough to make him want to end his life.”

For fuck’s sake. Some random dude stole my girl with a piece of fruit.

“I can’t afford to send beautiful flowers like your grandma deserves. And the kitchen is not where I shine, or I’d offer to make you a casserole. Bear hugs are all I have to offer. I’m sorry.”

“Dex, if you want your friends to help, all you have to do is ask.” “Well, I’m asking now.” I raise my brows. “For another hug?” I’m game for another. Only one more moment, though, because any more time spent in fantasy land and I might accidentally get stuck. “No, something a little more involved than a hug. A job.” Dex holds up his hands like he’s telling me to halt, but I haven’t moved a muscle. “What if I offered you a job for just one year that would set you up for the rest of your life? You’d never have to work or worry about money again. Your kids would never have to worry about money again.” His cool, casual demeanor makes me wonder if he’s not exaggerating. Pretending like his cryptic offer is for real, I answer with the first thing that comes to mind. “I mean, provided I don’t have to take my clothes off or put anything in my mouth, I’d say that sounds pretty damn good. What are you suggesting?” He smirks at me with a touch of humor relaxing his tense brows. “As long as you don’t have to put anything in your mouth?” “We live in Vegas. Don’t act like that’s a weird thing to be worried about.” “Fair enough. But no—nothing like that. My grandma…” He exhales. “How do I sum this up as quickly as possible?” “I don’t mind a story.” His lips twitch into a half-hearted smile. “I’m not a good storyteller.” That’s a lie. Dex’s scuba diving stories are legendary. “Fine. What about your grandma?” His sigh is heavy like he’s reluctant to talk about the conversation he brought ...

“What do I mean to you, Dex?” He fishes his wallet out of his back pocket. I never paid attention before, but after tonight’s shocking revelation, I can’t help but notice that Dex’s wallet is sleek and black. There’s no huge wad of cash in there. There also aren’t many cards. Just one black card that’s probably as powerful as one hundred high-limit credit cards. He pulls out a faded folded bill from behind his ID, resting in the dedicated plastic compartment. “Here,” he says, then hands it to me. I see the thick ten on the right corner. “I’m not a gold digger or anything, but knowing how rich you are, this is kind of insulting.” I smirk. “So sassy,” he mumbles under his breath. He takes the bill back and unfolds it carefully so I can see the purple nail polish mark at the top right corner. Looking pleased, he places it back in my palm. It literally feels like the air is sucked out of my lungs. I try to inhale, but nothing happens. “This is?” I ask, somehow managing the two words through my breathlessness. “From the first time we met. My souvenir,” he says. There are little tells that he’s nervous. Not on his expression, that’s completely composed. Dex has a bulletproof poker face. It’s how his thumb is subtly twitching, so he tucks it into his fist. His jaw is clenched and he’s so still, like he stopped breathing as well. I run my finger over the glittery purple nail polish streak. The polish is still vibrant even though the bill looks worse for wear. All this time, he did...

“What’s on your mind?” I ask. Lennox wasn’t this nervous an hour ago at the courthouse when we got our marriage license. She was cool as a cucumber, but now she seems out of sorts. “Nothing, you?” she mutters distractedly. Her eyes are fixed on her screen and the death grip she’s sporting might snap her phone in half. “I’m debating how much tongue I’m going to slip you during our first kiss after we say, ‘I do.’” She’s glaring at me through her peripherals, but at least that grabs her attention. “Funny.” “Will you lighten up? Who are you texting?” I nudge her knee with mine, and it calms. “I need to text my mom, but I don’t know what to say.” Her tone turns pleading. “Do I say I got married, or I got a job? Honestly, she’ll be equally shocked at both.” Sometimes I forget other people have families that care about their life choices outside of the financial implications. “Is she going to be mad? I’ve met your mom a time or two. I thought it went fine.” “Mom likes you, Dex. It’s not that. It’s just…” She trails off, shrugging. “What?” I prod. “I haven’t been making the best decisions for my future lately. This seems like piling on.” I scoff. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “What happens when you’re done with me in a year? Then what?” she asks. “What kind of jobs do you apply for after being a CEO, except you weren’t qualified to be one in the first place? How do you tell your future boyfriends that you’re a divorcée but your marriage wasn’t real? I’m just”—she jostles her he...

“Can I tell you something?” she asks. “Sure.” “You can be rich and sad. I don’t think money fixes everything. In fact, if I learned anything from my dad, it breaks far more than it fixes.”

Crack! The tiara snaps in half. She grabs her palm where the sharp edge of the plastic bit her. “Ow,” she mumbles. “I warned you.” I take her hand and pull it to my lips. Kiss. As if a little peck will fix everything. I meant it as a sweet gesture but she rips her hand away, her cheeks flushing crimson.

“That thing you said earlier about Denny being upset I’m not Ivy League… Who’s Denny?” “She’s my family’s household manager. A personal assistant of sorts but with more authority. Right now, she’s the closest thing I have to family. She’s been around since before I was born. But the thing I said about Ivy League was just a jab at Denny. It bothers me how pretentious she is sometimes. Len…” I wait until her eyes are on mine. “That’s my world, but I’m not like that.” “You sure?” she asks with a reluctant smile. “Because for three years, I’ve wondered why you turned me down the night we met. You haven’t made a move since. You’re sweet, considerate, and flirt with me shamelessly. You hate my boyfriends. It didn’t make sense. Until tonight.” My face screws up in confusion. “What makes sense now?” “You cared about me too much to hit it and quit it. But I’m also not your pedigree. So, I guess friends made the most sense.” “Len, that’s so out of⁠—” “Who’s my number eighteen? You’re up!” The officiant busts through the chapel doors with his auctioneer voice. I might’ve laughed if his timing wasn’t piss-poor.

“Are you okay?” I nod. “Yeah. Why?” “Because I think you just tried to ditch my ass ten seconds after marrying me.” I make a face, pretending like he’s crazy, even though he’s spot-on. “Not at all. The smoke machine mixed with the strobe lights were making me nauseous. I had to get out of there unless you wanted vomit on your shoes.” The look he’s giving me tells me he’s unconvinced. He sees right through me as usual. “Yeah, that was a little much. I didn’t realize the fog machine came with the Deluxe package.” He cracks a smile, but it quickly disappears. “It was hard to see you in there. I was just repeating whatever bullshit the officiant was telling me to. It felt like I was making promises to a cloud of smoke.” I turn down the corner of my lips and nod. “Well, husband, nice to know you think our vows are bullshit.” I chuckle, but Dex’s eyes are too intense. He’s not laughing or smiling. I feel silly, like I’m the only one laughing at a cruel joke. So, I stop. “They weren’t real. To have, hold, and obey? That doesn’t mean anything.” I shrug. “Well, neither does this marriage. So...” “Do you want this to be meaningful? You want me to tell you how I really feel about you? Because once I do, there’s no going back.” I lean back so hard into the door, I’m sure the metal is going to bruise my spine. “What do you mean?” “There’s another side of me, and he is the antithesis of the man you want. Corporate, money, politics…that’s the version of me I’ve been hiding from you. And ...

Breathless, he breaks away. Searching my eyes, he asks, “How’d that kiss feel?” The answer is so simple. “Completely addicting.” His lips are on mine again, and I’m kissing my husband back like I’m starving for him. Tongue and all.

“The way this kid thinks he’s driving a Bugatti or something,” I grumble to Lennox, eyes on Colton until he disappears through the sliding door of the supercenter. “This is a nice SUV, Dex. For us poor people anyways.” I reach over her legs and release her buckle. With my hand firmly wrapped around her hip, I guide her onto my lap. For a moment, I ignore her crotch pressed against mine, causing my cock to pulse. We’ll get to that. I need a moment to explain to Lennox what she clearly doesn’t understand. I smooth out her long, purple locks, tucking her thick hair behind her ears. Then, I press my hand against her chest, feeling her heart beating fast. “You’re wealthy in the ways that matter.” “Ah, a rich man’s mantra,” she teases. “I’m serious. Money doesn’t make me a better person. Wealth has never made me feel confident that I’m doing the right things with my life.”

“What makes you feel confident, Mr. Hessler?” “The times I feel lost in myself, I think about you. Every time I have a good dream, it’s about you. When I don’t know where I belong, you remind me.” She traces the outline of my lips gently. Lennox stares into my eyes, but I know she’s looking deeper. Maybe she’s searching for all the pieces of me I’ve been hiding from her. “You’re right where you belong. With me.” “Shouldn’t have taken us so long,” I murmur. “Maybe we had to have what wasn’t enough first. So, when we finally got together, it’d be⁠—” “Forever?” “Is that what you want?” she asks. “Because I thought this marriage was about your company.” “Len, this marriage can mean whatever you want it to mean. As long as I can keep you. Whatever you want.”

Her arms are clamped against her ribs, holding her bra in place. It gives me time to glance at the tiny “Charlie” tattoo she never had the money to remove. Running my finger over his name, I say, “I’m getting rid of this.” “You want me to get a Dex tattoo instead?” she asks with a chuckle. “No. I don’t need to put my name on your body to claim you.” “Then how are you going to claim me? A fancy ring?” I yank her bra off, discarding it to the side. Suddenly, she’s sheepish. Covering her breasts with one arm, she looks nervously out the window. “I don’t want to get in trouble. This is a public parking lot.” “We’re alone and these windows are tinted way past regulation. Not to mention, most cops are willing to look the other way for the right price.” “You’d pay a cop off just to screw me in a car?” We shouldn’t be doing this in a rideshare for the first time, but we’ve wasted too much time already. I don’t feel like I can wait another minute. “I’d pay the world off to keep you in this moment.” I pull her arm away from her bare chest, catching her fleshy tit in one hand. I cradle it like a treasure while running my thumb over her dark, firm nipple. “What are you thinking about?” “It doesn’t feel right.” I release her tit and lean back. “Am I fucking this up?” I shake my head. I thought I was being passionate. Lennox isn’t a wine-and-dine kind of girl. She likes spontaneity and being lost in a moment. “I’m trying to show you how bad I’ve wanted you all this time. But maybe I sho...

“What do you need, baby? Tell me. How do I get you there, hm?” “Bite it.” Two little words I’ll never forget for the rest of my life. I oblige, barely nipping at her most sensitive area. Then I hollow my cheeks, lips latched around her clit, like I need to soothe the ache. “Harder,” she pleads as she hooks her ankle around my shoulder. Make that three words I’ll never forget. “Good God, Lennox. You’re so fucking sexy. But I don’t want to hurt you.” “Trust me. Please. I can take it. I’m about to come so hard.”

“Want to know what you taste like?” “No,” she says flatly. I laugh and answer anyway. “Delicious. Like the last pussy I’ll ever crave.”

“Say it, Len.” My words come out as a low growl. All this time, I’ve been controlling my feelings around Lennox. I have no idea what side is going to come out of me once I let go. Apparently, it’s aggressively possessive. “Say what?” she asks. “Say I’m your last. If you mean it, say you’re mine and I can have you however I want.” I flinch when she grabs my hard length in her fist. She grinds on the tip, coating me with her arousal. “I shouldn’t have to say it, Dex. Don’t you know by now? I’ve been yours.”

“Like what you see?” I ask with a smirk. “It’s beautiful,” she says with a wink. “Like the last dick I’ll ever crave.” I chuckle and kiss her forehead. “Don’t steal my lines.”

Hm, I like that. Sweetheart. Trouble. Baby. Len. I love the way he addresses me. Fueled by either tender, playful, or sexy affection.

“What’s wrong?” I ask after taking a small sip of water. But the answer becomes apparent as I turn my head to peer into the trunk. Two bags have tipped over, revealing a handful of smartphones. “Oh, shit, he⁠—” “Yup,” Dex says through a clenched jaw. “Fucker bought sixty-eight iPhones, Len. Cleaned out every single version they had in stock.” Clever little weasel. I clasp my hand over my mouth and chuckle-gasp through my fingers. “You should’ve offered him cash. Oh, Dex…I must be the most expensive lay you’ve ever had.” He pulls out the black bag of Chex Mix—Bold Party Flavor from the bag on his lap. Dex knows exactly what I like without me having to tell him. As he opens the bag, a puff of the salty snack mix wafts underneath my nose, making my stomach churn eagerly. He fishes out a rye chip and places it into my mouth. With a little wink he says, “Worth it, Trouble. You’re so, so worth it.” I munch away happily, knowing he means it. It was a long time coming, but Dex and I are explosive. Worth the fucking wait.

“I thought I’d warn Ms. Lennox that if she wants to stay in your life, not to reveal her feelings for you, keep her hands to herself, and her ass fully covered.” Grandma smirks as she fills two wine glasses halfway. “What makes you think Lennox has feelings for me? You’ve never even met her.” “Oh, Dex. So smart, yet still such a man. She’s spending her Saturday evening having dinner at home with you and your old grandma. What does that tell you?” Cradling the bulb of the glass in her palm, Grandma takes a long sip of wine. In any other circumstance, I’d make an excuse. But I can’t lie to Grandma. I’ve tried. She sees right through me. “Have you ever met someone who tethers you to the earth? All those times before when I wanted a different life… I don’t know. She helps me see the world differently. I like her reality better than my own.” I can’t read Grandma’s expression. Her face tenses as she studies my eyes. Her bright red lips are pressed together but not pursed. She’s silent, so I continue, “That’s why you wanted me to come out here, isn’t it? Perspective?” Grandma sets her wine glass down. “You love her.” It’s a statement, not a question. “No, Grandma. Nothing like that, I just…” Well, I don’t know. What the fuck else is this, then? A lonely, rich boy’s puppy love? Wanting what I can’t have? “I think I could one day,” I admit. “But I also don’t think I’m destined for love. I know how Grandpa treated you. I don’t want that for Lennox or any woman I love.” “Don’t want w...