We’d been in San Diego exactly two hours and I was already regretting not taking Chloe up on her Vegas elopement.
As if equipped with some kind of Bennett mood ring embedded in her brain, the woman in question turned in the seat next to me. I could feel the weight of her attention, her pressing gaze as she watched me and tried to dissect each frown or sigh.
“Why do you look nervous?” she asked finally.
“I’m fine,” I answered, aiming for disinterested but failing spectacularly.
“The grip you have on the steering wheel would suggest otherwise.”
I frowned more deeply and immediately loosened my hold. We were on our way to dinner, where the majority of our two families would be meeting for the first time. They had flown in from all over the country: Michigan, Florida, New Jersey, and Washington, even some from Canada. A number of them I hadn’t seen in twenty years or more. In all, there were over three hundred and fifty people arriving within the next few days. God only knew what we were in for. On a good day I hated small talk. The week before one of the biggest events of my life, I was terrified I would be such an enormous asshole that everyone would leave town before the actual event.
Leaning forward so I would glance over at her, she asked, “Aren’t you excited for this week?”
“Yes, of course. I’m just dreading tonight a little, and wondering how I’ll handle all of the socializing.”
“My guess is ‘badly,’” she said, poking my shoulder.
I exhaled a laugh, giving her a playfully stern glance. “Thanks.”
“Look, just wait until you meet my aunts,” she said, leaning over and kissing where she’d poked me. “It’ll be all the distraction you’ll need.”
Chloe’s dad had traveled from North Dakota with his two very loud and eccentric sisters. They were both recently divorced, and Chloe promised me they had the potential to be the biggest disaster of the week. I wasn’t so sure we should give out that tiara just yet—Chloe had yet to meet my cousin Bull.
“You’ll forget about everything else and all you’ll be able to worry about is what they’ll do to get themselves arrested and how much it will cost you in bail money. Trust me, it’ll be very liberating.” She leaned over and began fiddling with the car stereo, stopping on a pulsing, high-pitched pop song. I slid my eyes over to her, concentrating a lifetime of disgust into the brief glance.
Satisfied that I was sufficiently annoyed, she sat back in her seat. “So what else is bothering you? You’re not getting cold feet on me now, are you?”
I leveled her with a look that was meant to imply Are you insane?
“Okay,” she laughed. “Then talk to me. Tell me what else is on your mind.”
I reached for her hand, twisting her fingers with mine before resting them both on my thigh. “It’s just the looming chaos,” I started with a shrug. “This wedding has turned into such a thing. Do you know I had fourteen texts from my mother waiting for me when we landed? Fourteen. Ranging from where to get coffee in San Diego, to whether Bull could get his back waxed at the hotel—as if I know! You said it yesterday: it’s become its own entity. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I wonder if you had it right when you suggested sneaking off to Vegas.”
She gave me her trademark gloating smile. “I believe I said ‘run.’ Run to Vegas. As in flee.”
“Right.”
“You know, we’re not that far from the airport,” she reminded me, motioning out the window to where we could still see planes landing and taking off. “It’s not too late to escape.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I said, because as much as I suspected we were careening headlong into disaster, I didn’t actually want to leave. San Diego had always been special to us: it was where I stopped being an idiot and finally let myself love her. It was where Chloe finally let me. And Jesus, had it really been over two years? How was that even possible? It felt like only yesterday I was covertly ogling Miss Mills’ ass as we checked into the W. Later, she’d called me by my first name, for the very first time.
We’d been back together one other time, of course, to select the location for this weekend. But that had been such a whirlwind trip, and this one carried a far greater weight. We were here for our wedding. Despite the way she’d crashed the bachelor party, the fact that we’d bought a Manhattan apartment together, or the ring on Chloe’s finger, it was this strange moment of nerves that made it finally sink in. We were getting married. When I left here again, Chloe would be my wife.
Holy shit.
I reached up, ran a shaking hand across my clammy forehead.
“You’re being awfully quiet over there. Can I take your contemplative silence to mean you’re actually considering fleeing?” Chloe asked.
I shook my head. “No way,” I said, tightening my grip on her hand. “We’re here. And there isn’t a chance in hell I’d miss seeing you walk down that aisle. I’ve fought way too fucking hard for you.”
“Knock it off, Bennett. You’re a lot easier to deal with when you’re being a dick.”
“And I put up with way too much of your shit,” I added, grinning when I felt her fist connect with my shoulder. “But I do feel I should warn you one more time. Some members of my family are a bit . . .”
“Nuts? As in, building a vitamin-manufacturing facility in their garage? As in, paying tens of thousands of dollars for advertising in the AARP magazine?”
I blinked over to her. “What? Who did that?”
“Your cousin Bull,” she answered, shrugging. “Henry told me some stories on the phone the other day. Apparently it’s his new venture. He’s going to make a pitch this week for some financial backing from Will and Max.”
“Why am I even surprised?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Families are supposed to be a handful, Bennett. Otherwise you’d never leave them. And mine isn’t quite all there, either. You know my aunts are . . . let’s just say they’re really going to enjoy the Ryan family gene pool. I hope you packed your running shoes.”
“Well—” I began, but stopped as she crossed her legs in front of her. “Chloe?”
She picked some nonexistent lint off her nonexistent stockings. “Hmm?”
“What in the fuck are you wearing?”
“You like?” she said, lifting her foot and moving it from side to side. Her shoes looked positively dangerous. Spiked heel, deep blue patent leather.
“Were you wearing those when we left the hotel?”
“I was. You were on the phone with your brother.”
I wasn’t one to catalog everything Chloe wore, but the familiar stirring in my pants told me I’d most definitely seen these shoes before—over my shoulders, if I wasn’t mistaken. “Where have I seen those?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She was a rotten liar. “At home?”
At home, in our bedroom.
The dirty little box we kept under our bed. The things we did when that box was out.
I remembered the night she wore them, almost two months ago. We hadn’t seen each other in weeks and I couldn’t get close enough, touch her enough, fuck her hard enough. She’d pulled out those shoes along with something new she wanted to try: a bottle of self-warming wax. I could still remember the heat as she’d dribbled it along my skin; the way goose bumps began at that warm puddle of wax and radiated out, spreading along my body. She teased me for so long I actually promised her I’d kneel and hand-feed her breakfast the next day. I came so hard I almost blacked out that night.
“You’re doing this to fuck with me, aren’t you?” I asked. “This is about the let’s-wait-to-have-sex-until-after-the-wedding thing, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely.”
We found a parking spot about a block away from Barbarella in La Jolla and I stepped out, walking around to open Chloe’s door. I took her hand and watched as she climbed out of the car—tan legs that went on forever, shoes you could easily impale yourself on—and shook my head at her the entire time.
“You’re a demon,” I said. “I feel like a bride guarding my virginity before the wedding.”
“Well, then feel free to give it up, Ryan,” she said, pushing up onto her toes to kiss me.
I groaned but somehow managed to pull away, both of us looking in the direction of the restaurant. “Here we go . . . ”
With the patio area open and visible from the street, we could hear our fathers talking before we’d even made it in the door.
“You need to make sure they sit together,” Chloe’s dad was saying.
“Nonsense, Frederick, they’ll be fine.” My father, always the diplomat. “Susan put a lot of thought into the seating arrangement and she knows what she’s doing. I’m sure your sisters are wonderful ladies. Let’s spread them around a little, give the others a chance to get to know them.”
“‘Spread them around’? I don’t think you understand, Elliott. My sisters are crazy. They’re man-hungry and newly single. They will hunt down every available male within a six-mile radius if you give them the chance.”
I stopped Chloe at the threshold, placing a hand on each of her shoulders and looking into her brown eyes. “You ready for this?” I asked.
She stood up on her toes and pressed her warm lips to mine. “Absolutely not,” she said against my mouth.
I took her hand and we stepped inside just in time to see my father laugh. “Don’t you think you might be exaggerating a little?”
Frederick sighed. “I wish I were. I—”
“It’s about time,” Henry said, cutting in front of them to walk toward me. Both fathers looked in our direction as Henry continued, “I was worried you two wouldn’t show up and I’d have to drag you naked from your hotel room.”
“That’s a horrifying image,” I said, hugging my brother. “And for the record, I’m having you banned from our floor.”
“Bennett,” my father said, hugging me next. “Frederick and I were just discussing the seating arrangements.”
“And what a disaster it will be if we split up Judith and Mary,” Frederick added, directing his words toward Chloe.
Chloe hugged my dad and then moved on to hers. “This isn’t going to win me any points with Susan,” she told my father, “but I have to agree with my dad here. Keep them together; we don’t want them taking over more real estate than necessary. There will be fewer casualties that way.”
With that settled, I pulled my dad to the side to give Chloe a moment alone with Frederick.
My mother had rented out the entire beachside restaurant, and I had to admit it was perfect. Tucked away in a quaint little neighborhood, meticulously maintained boxwoods lined the walk and flowering vines and greenery clung to every available surface. Now that the sun was starting to set, the huge outdoor seating area twinkled with strings of tiny lights. The tables were beginning to fill, and I realized I couldn’t identify half the people who were smiling in our direction.
“Who the hell are all these people?” I asked.
“Perhaps a little louder, son. Your great-grandmother might not have heard you,” he said. “And they’re family. Cousins, aunts . . . first nephews twice removed.” He furrowed his brow as he took in the line beginning to form at the open bar. “Actually, I’m not sure I even know. Those ones are already drinking, so they must be from your mother’s side of the family.” He tightened his grip on my shoulder. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
“Great. Everyone else here?”
“I think so,” Dad said. “Your uncles are out on the patio. I haven’t seen your cousins yet.”
I winced inwardly. My brother, Henry, and I spent the majority of our summers growing up with our two cousins, Brian and Chris. Brian was the oldest of the four Ryan boy cousins and a quiet, serious child, much like I had been. He and I had always been close. But Chris—or Bull as he insisted on being called—made me want to chew off my own limb to escape. My mom used to say that Chris only wanted to be like us, and preferred the nickname so he would be one of the B’s: Brian, Bennett, Bull. I always suspected this was bullshit. After all, Henry started with an H, and the personalized beer cozy Bull brought to parties, along with his unbuttoned shirt and gold chains nestled in a thicket of wild chest hair, suggested he was totally fine being his own person. Chris just liked the idea of being called Bull because he was an idiot.
“I’m sure Bull is excited to see you,” Dad said with a knowing smile.
“I’ll keep an eye out,” I said. “And I’m sure Lyle has remembered a couple of colorful navy stories he’ll pass along to you over dinner. Maybe the results of his last prostate exam?”
Dad nodded, eyes twinkling in restrained amusement as he waved to someone across the room. Dad’s eldest brother, Lyle—Bull’s father, go figure—seemed to have no filter for the inappropriate. Over the years I’d lost count of the number of stories Lyle had told about his adventures in the navy, disgusting bodily functions, how people in rural towns had “relations” with animals, and the various moles his wife had to have removed from her back. “Maybe I should suggest he offer one as a toast?”
Laughing I said, “I’ll give you one whole American dollar to suggest it, Dad.”
My mother approached, kissing my cheek before licking her thumb and reaching to smear off what I could only imagine was a bright pink lipstick mark. I ducked out of her grasp and grabbed a napkin off a table instead.
“Why didn’t you wear the blue suit?” she asked, snatching the napkin from me to wipe my face clean.
“Hi, Mom. You look beautiful.”
“Hi, darling. I liked the blue suit much better than this one.”
I looked down at the charcoal Prada suit I wore, smoothing a hand over the front of the jacket. “I like this one.” And, I didn’t add, I packed at two in the morning under a drunken sex haze.
“Blue would have been more appropriate for tonight.” She was practically vibrating with nerves. “This one makes me think you’re heading to a funeral.”
Dad handed her his cocktail and she downed it with a shaking hand before walking away again.
“Well, that was fun,” I said and Dad laughed.
Chloe joined us—clearly a bit exasperated from dealing with her father—and we made a circuit of the room, greeting everyone who had come early in the week and reacquainting ourselves with old family and friends. A little while later, my mom called to let us all know that dinner was starting and we moved back to the dining area.
I located the place cards with our names near the center of the room. Chloe sat on my right, her dad next to her. My dad had apparently taken Frederick’s advice because Chloe’s aunts—Mary and Judith—were seated together nearby, slapping the table and cackling up a storm. Chris . . . Bull made his entrance as we were all taking a seat, shouting my name and lifting his can of beer—and requisite cozy—in my direction. His eyes moved over Chloe slower than should have been humanly possible, after which he gave me a thumbs-up.
I made a mental note to call a friend of mine at the IRS and have him audited.
I was only kidding. Mostly.
Dinner consisted of seared salmon and heirloom tomatoes, potato puree, and basil beurre blanc. It was perfect, and made it almost possible to tune out the conversations around me.
“Are you kidding?” Bull yelled from across the room at an elderly second-aunt on my mother’s side. “You must be kidding me. Eagles fans live their life feeling like they never get the credit they deserve. You want attention and praise? Win a goddamn game, that’s what I’m saying!” Bull took a giant gulp of beer, swallowed, and semi-stifled a loud belch. “And another thing—you’re old, I bet you know the answer to this: why the fuck is Wheel of Fortune still on? Did you know they have a goddamn website where you can dress up Vanna White? Dress her up like she’s some sort of fucking paper doll. Not that I know from experience, mind you.” He made a point to meet the eyes of everyone unlucky enough to be seated at his table, whether they were listening or not. “But what the fuck is that all about? And I’ll tell you what, she might not be getting any younger, but if I could find someone as hot as that woman to walk around the lot, motioning to the cars like she does on the TV?” Here he made a dramatic flourish with his hand, the other one cocked on his hip as he motioned to the empty space next to him. “I’d make a goddamn fortune.”
“Jesus Christ,” Chloe whispered in my ear. “That is a train wreck and a half right there.”
I swallowed a large pull of my drink before saying, “You said it.”
“You grew up with this guy?’
I nodded, wincing as I downed the rest of my red wine in a single, burning gulp.
“Has he always been like this?”
I nodded again, sucked in a breath, and wiped my mouth with my napkin. I watched as Chloe glanced around the room, first to my cousin Brian, who would be considered by most to be handsome and who had always been fit. Then to my dad and his brothers, Lyle and Allan, both still pretty good-looking for their age. She turned briefly to Henry and then to me, before blinking back to Bull. I could practically hear her evaluating the genetic map in front of her.
“And we’re sure there’s not a leak in the Ryan family gene pool? Like, is there any way he’s the milkman’s kid?”
I barked out a laugh that was so loud, almost every head in the restaurant turned in my direction. “I need another drink,” I said, standing in a way that momentarily left my chair wobbling on its two back legs.
My phone insistently buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to see a flurry of texts from my mother:
Sweetie, your hair is a mess.
They’re serving the DeLoach Pinot? I thought
we had the Preston carignane set for the table wine.
Tell your father to stop introducing Aunt Joan as the Prospector. I have no idea why she’s
wearing so much gold nugget jewelry, but he’s being rude.
I had just escaped to the bar for a shot of Johnny Black and to scope out all easily accessible exits—I loved my family but Jesus Christ, these people were fucking nuts—when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“So you’re the one who’s marrying our Chloe.”
“If she doesn’t get wise and escape before the ceremony,” I said, turning to the women behind me. In an instant, I knew who they were. “You lovely ladies must be Chloe’s aunts.”
The one to my right nodded, and her entire head of fluffy red hair nodded right along with her. “I’m Judith,” she said, and then pointed to her sister. “This is Mary.”
Judith had hair that could only be described as some sort of sugary confection: overdyed and overteased into what resembled spirals of strawberry cotton candy erupting from her head. It could have been merely the power of suggestion, but I swear she even smelled like strawberries. Her skin was still relatively smooth considering her age—mid-sixties, if Chloe was correct—and her brown eyes were sharp and clear as she considered me. Mary shared many of the same facial features as her sister, but her hair was a much more subdued, subtle brown, and piled high on her head in some sort of bedazzled and bobby-pinned twist. And while Judith was tall like Chloe, stopping just below my chin, Mary was barely pushing five feet, and was probably as wide through the chest area as she was tall.
I reached out to shake each of their hands. “It’s nice to finally meet you both,” I said, smiling politely. “Chloe’s told me wonderful things.”
They were having none of that and each pulled me in for a squeezing and rather lingering hug.
“Liar,” Mary said with a cheeky smile. “Our niece is a lot of things, but full of false compliments, she is not.”
“She’s told me she used to spend summers with you. I believe the phrase she’s used most frequently is ‘they’re a hoot.’” I left out the phrases cougars and bat-shit crazy.
“Now that I’ll believe,” Judith said with a snort.
“And how are you ladies enjoying San Diego?” I asked leaning back against the bar. I could see Chloe out of the corner of my eye, and just as I expected, Bull had taken it upon himself to fill my seat and keep her company in my absence. A part of me wanted to be her knight in shining armor, and rescue her, but a larger part knew better: if there was one woman who absolutely did not need rescuing, it was Chloe.
“Oh we’re having the time of our life,” Judith said, sharing a meaningful look with her sister. “Or at least we will be. Did you know this is the first time we’ve both been single in over thirty-five years? This town doesn’t know what’s about to hit it. We’re going to make up for lost time—or die trying.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I was certainly beginning to see that blunt honesty was a Mills family trait.
“So, what’s the plan then?” I asked. “You two going to spend some time on the beach and break a few hearts?”
“Something like that,” Mary said, winking and doing a little dance to the music overhead.
Judith moved to stand next to me at the bar, leaned in, and lowered her voice. “Tell us about your family,” she asked, eager, bright eyes moving around the room. “Just the one brother? Any uncles? Anyone single?”
I shook my head, laughing again. Frederick had nailed it. “Just the one brother and sorry, other than the one currently talking to my fiancée”—they looked over to Bull and deflated a little—“everyone’s spoken for.”
“My oh my oh my my my,” I heard Judith say, voice suddenly soft and low. I followed her gaze to the front door, where Will and Hanna had just arrived. There was a lot of giggling in that corner of the room, where Hanna had practically been tackled by Chloe and Sara, leaving Will to stand by and watch, wearing that stupid grin he never seemed to shake anymore. I missed his ironic scowl. I missed his insistence that we were a bunch of pussies. God, he was the biggest fucking pussy now.
He looked up to find me watching and, apparently able to read the giant I TOLD YOU SO in my expression, flipped me off. And suddenly, even though I knew it was wrong and Chloe would kill me when she found out, a plan began to blossom in my mind.
I mean really, how could I not do this?
“Who is that?” Judith asked in a breathy rush. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever actually heard someone leer before, but I figured that was as close as I was ever going to get.
“That’s Will,” I said. “He works with Max, the Brit with the pregnant fiancée?”
“Is he available?” Judith asked at the very same moment Mary said, “Is he straight?”
I could feel my conscience poking at me, nudging. Some small, shriveled part of my brain was trying to stop me from what I was about to do, insisting this was absolutely not a good idea.
“Oh, he’s definitely straight,” I said. Not a lie. “And he’s a lot of fun, ladies. A lot of fun.” Technically not a lie.
Mary pressed up to my side, asking “Who’s the girl with him?”
“That’s Hanna. She’s . . . an old family friend,” I said finally. Still not a lie. “You should go over and introduce yourselves.”
“So he’s not married?” Mary asked, compact already out and mouth shaped in a little O as she reapplied her lipstick. These women were determined.
“Married? Noooooooo. Definitely not married.” What? Not a lie.
“Hot damn,” they both said in unison.
I glanced quickly around the room before wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders, bringing them closer and bending to speak. “I’m going to tell you two a little secret, but it’s got to stay between us.” I looked at each of them individually and they nodded, eyes wide as they hung on my every word.
“Our Will? He’s a bit of a wild boy. He’s insatiable, and he’s got quite the reputation for his skill, if you’re catching my drift. The thing is? He likes ex-pe-ri-enced women,” I said, emphasizing each syllable. “And he likes them in pairs.”
They both sucked in a breath and looked at each other. I had a feeling a huge telepathic conversation passed between them before they blinked back to me.
“Understand?” I asked, glancing between them.
“Oh, we understand,” Mary said.
There was no way I wasn’t going to hell.
I watched as Judith and Mary cut a line straight for Will. Hanna, Chloe, and Sara had dispersed, leaving him alone.
Alone and vulnerable.
I realized the only way this would work was if I had buy-in from the most important person in the restaurant. I scanned the room, my eyes stopping on Hanna as she emerged from the back, smoothing her sapphire-blue dress down over her sides.
I practically sprinted over to her.
“How are you?” I blurted out too loudly and far too enthusiastically to someone who had just stepped out of the restroom.
She let out a small gasp and stopped dead in her tracks. “Bennett,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“God, sorry. I just wanted a chance to talk to you before you got swallowed up by the girls again.”
“Um, okay . . .” she said, looking around us and clearly confused by my laser-focus attention.
“How was your flight?” I asked.
Her posture relaxed and she smiled, attempting to look over my shoulder to where Will was sitting, probably chin-deep in cougars if my guess was correct. I shifted to block her view.
“It was—” she started.
“Good, good,” I said, realizing too late that I hadn’t let her answer. “Look, I wanted to mention something to you,” I said. Play it off as casual. Play it off as no big deal. Be cool.
Her lips curled up in an amused smile. “Okay?”
“You know what a horrible prankster Will can be.” She nodded and I continued: “I may have just done something to get back at him and I swear,” I said, resting a hand on her shoulder, “I swear, Hanna, you’ll think it’s hilarious . . . eventually.”
“‘Eventually’?”
“Absolutely. Eventually.”
She considered me through narrowed eyes. “This is just a prank, right? No shaved heads or scars?”
I pulled back to study her. “That was a very specific question. Scars?” I shook my head, clearing it. “And no, no, no, no. Just a silly little prank.” I gave Hanna my best smile, the one Chloe said made panties drop. But apparently it only made Hanna more suspicious.
Her eyes narrowed further. “What would I need to do?”
“Nothing,” I said. “You’ll probably see some weird stuff but just . . . go along with it.”
“So, basically be oblivious.”
“Exactly,” I said.
“And this will be funny?”
“Hilarious.”
She thought about it for a full ten seconds before reaching out to shake my hand. “You’re on.”
Hotel Del Coronado was built in 1888, and stretched across the fine-sand beaches of Coronado Island. With its striking red turrets and blindingly white buildings, visiting here felt a lot like being dropped in the middle of a Victorian postcard. Chloe and I had stayed a few months ago while scouting out possible wedding sites. One glance at the ocean from the balcony of our hotel room and Chloe was sold; this was where we would get married.
As we drove back from dinner that night, my nerves prickled to the surface again, but for an entirely new reason. Chloe was smart—smarter than I was, if I was being honest with myself—and she’d watched me carefully all night, studying. Now, as we neared the hotel, she might have been sitting quietly in the passenger seat at my side, but there was no way she was merely taking in the passing scenery. If I knew her as well as I thought I did, she was planning, silently plotting how to take me down.
Which was why I had a plan myself.
We made the last turn and arrived back at the Del. The crisp white buildings were lit from every angle and practically glowed against the dark sky. I patted the small bottle in my pocket and looked down at my watch, realizing this was either the smartest thing I’d ever done or the stupidest. We’d find out soon enough.
I pulled to a stop at the curb, reached for my bottle of water, and practically vaulted from my seat, desperate for air that didn’t smell like Chloe’s perfume, and for just a moment of space to gather my thoughts. I washed the Plan down with a giant gulp of water. I had about ten minutes before I should probably be upstairs.
Drawing in a much-needed breath, I handed the keys to the attendant and rounded the car, smiling as I took Chloe’s hand.
The hum of voices and gentle tinkling of music greeted us as we stepped into the lobby and crossed to the elevator. I couldn’t help but think back on the last time Chloe and I were here together: of fucking her on the huge king-sized bed until she’d screamed my name, of holding her hands behind her back as I bent her over the balcony railing, the crashing waves and rustling palms the only sounds masking the noises she made.
I followed her into the elevator and like some sort of homing device, my eyes dropped straight to her ass. She knew it, too, because there was a much more deliberate swivel to her hips, an intentional shake with each step. I felt myself begin to harden and realized that if this plan went to shit, I was screwed. Literally.
Get your head in the game, Ben, I told myself, reaching to press the button to our floor. It wouldn’t be that hard, I reasoned: keep your distance, eyes above her shoulders at all times, and for God’s sake, no arguing about anything.
“Everything okay over there, Ryan?” my lady-adversary said, leaning against the wall opposite me. She crossed her arms over her chest and her breasts pressed together. Danger. I quickly averted my gaze.
“Absolutely.” I had this. I was a genius.
“You look mighty proud about something. Fire someone today? Kick a puppy?”
Oh, I see you, Mills. I see you. I kept my eyes fixed on the mirrored doors opposite me and answered, “Just thinking back on the card Sofia made for us. She must have made it with that cute little art set we bought her for her fourth birthday. But I just realized her handwriting reminded me a lot of yours.”
A small, knowing smile pulled at her mouth and she nodded, glancing up at the display as the floors ticked past.
Almost like a weight had been placed on my shoulders, drowsiness began to seep into my limbs and back; my arms felt dense with a heavy wave of fatigue. I smiled wider.
The elevator stopped on our floor and I watched as she stepped out and made her way down the hall. She waited while I opened the door to our room and then headed straight for the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” I asked. What had I expected? For her to strap me down, throw me against a wall, and force me to have sex with her? And why did that sound so damn appealing?
“Just getting ready for bed,” she said over her shoulder, and closed the door behind her.
I stood for a moment before moving to open the balcony, feeling the first yawn creeping up. Dinner had gone better than expected. Well, that was a bit of a stretch. Bull made a fifteen-minute meandering “toast” about family, relating several stories about some questionably harassing interactions he had with one of my high school girlfriends before soliloquizing at length about how beautiful Chloe is. My mother sent me seven more text messages I still hadn’t read. Judith and Mary ended up sitting on Will’s lap, grinning widely at me, and Henry made a circuit of the room after dessert, making a handful of secret bets with wedding guests.
Still, the police hadn’t been called and nobody had found themselves in need of emergency assistance, so it was as close to a success as this group would get for our first night out. At least the chaos had taken my mind off Chloe and the shoes she’d previously only worn during sex, and the dress that seemed to show everything but in fact showed nothing—which was infinitely sexier.
I never would have expected to be avoiding sex the week of our wedding. But I’d had plenty of time to think about it while folding what seemed like a million wedding programs, and decided that for the first time in our relationship I wanted to savor her: her laugh and her words and the mere reality of her company. I wanted to be able to watch her without thinking about the next time I’d have her naked and up against a wall. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t also about wanting to piss her off a little and I knew her well enough to know that withholding sex would . . . I blinked over to the bathroom door. Where the fuck was she? As my lids grew heavier and Chloe took longer doing who-knows-what in the bathroom, I wasn’t sure I’d have the physical strength to fight her off if it came to that tonight.
Taking a seat in the living room, I picked up a magazine, feeling myself grow more and more tired with every minute. I looked up at the sound of a door opening and nearly fell over. Chloe leaned against the wall, hair loose and falling in wild waves along her shoulders and down the length of her back. Her lips were glossy and pink, and I could imagine that color smeared down my chest and along the skin of my cock. She wore what was easily the sexiest and most complicated lingerie I’d ever seen. The black demi-cups barely covered her breasts; the rest consisted of a series of black satin ribbons crossing strategically over her torso and down between her legs. It took me two attempts to finally speak.
“Was someone in there with you?” I slurred.
Her brows came together and she shook her head. “What?”
“Because . . . I have no idea how you got that thing on by yourself.” My voice sounded thick and slow. “Hell, I have no idea how I’d even get it off.” I held up my hands and they felt heavy and numb. I wouldn’t even be able to rip paper tonight.
“That sounds like a challenge,” she said with a pleased smile. My eyes moved over every inch of her body and I seemed unable to pull them away. She was fucking beautiful. Her legs were long—so long—and her feet were still strapped in the same blue shoes she’d been wearing at dinner.
She took a step toward me, and then another. “Do you remember the last time we were here?” she asked.
“I’m trying not to.”
She pressed a hand to my chest and easily pushed me farther into the back of the couch before straddling my lap. “You fucked me on the floor . . .” She leaned forward, kissed my jaw. “And the balcony”—she kissed my neck—“and the bed, and the floor and the bed and the floor.”
“And don’t forget the chair in the corner,” I mumbled, hissing in a breath as she scratched her nails over my stomach, reached for my tie, loose but still hanging from my neck.
“What if I said I wanted to re-create some of that?” she whispered into my ear. “What if I asked you to tie me up with this? Spank me? Fuck me in th—”
I yawned. Wide.
She jerked back and looked at me, taking in my slumped posture, the way I could barely keep my eyes open. Hers narrowed.
“What did you do?” she asked, suspicious.
I could only smile—a stupid, drowsy, lopsided grin. “Took out a little insurance policy,” I slurred. “You’re very pretty by the way, and I really do like this . . . thing you’re wearing and would like to request that you wear it for me again . . . someday.”
“What did you do, Ryan?” she repeated, louder, and stood up, hands on her hips as she frowned down at me.
“Just only took a tiny little sleeping pill,” I said, yawning as I pulled the small bottle from my pocket, holding it up to show her. “Teensy tiny.”
I had a prescription for these for international travel but had yet to use a single one before this. I was actually amazed how fast they worked, and slightly uneasy over the prospect of having no control over my state of arousal. Especially since Chloe looked like she might castrate me.
“You son of a bitch!” she yelled, pushing on my chest. It was sort of a counterproductive move, however, because I merely slumped over, sinking facedown into one of the cushions. She started to yell about . . . something, but I couldn’t quite make it out. I took comfort knowing someday she’d know I was really doing this for her.
The last thing I saw before my eyes closed was her storming out of the room, shouting something about payback.
Finally, Bennett: 1; Chloe: 0
