My hand flies down to my phone the second it vibrates with a text.
Disappointment flares when I see Savannah’s name on the screen. Which I immediately feel bad about because I like Savannah. I like her a lot. She’s only been my sister-in-law for a couple of months, but she’s already my favorite family member. I just happen to be waiting for a text from someone else.
Or maybe he’s waiting for me to text first?
But since we both witnessed my texting disaster two nights ago, I think it’s safe to say that no one is expecting me to know proper texting etiquette.
I reply to Savannah, telling her that I’d love to come over for dinner next weekend.
It’ll be nice to see her, and I’ll need a break from sitting in my empty apartment fantasizing about Dominic.
Savannah texts back, confirming the time, and I add in the obligatory what should I bring? even though they have a cook that lives on their property. You know, like people do.
My desktop computer signals the arrival of the email I’ve been waiting for, so I turn back to my screen.
I’m reading through the email when my phone buzzes with Savannah’s reply.
My hands go to my keyboard to type up the reply, but then I remember the text and glance down.
Big Guy: Did you have a nice day, Shorty?
Not Savannah.
My cheeks are hot.
Why are my cheeks hot?
Me: Pretty normal. How about you?
Send.
Big Guy: Mine was pretty normal, too. But I couldn’t stop thinking about this knockout I met at the airport this week.
Knockout?
Swoon.
Me: Oh yeah? I bet she was super funny and brilliant.
Send.
I groan.
Why am I so weird?
Big Guy: You think I would settle for anything less?
Gah, he’s so perfect.
Me: Of course not. I’ve seen your face.
Send.
I groan again.
I’ve seen your face?
Me: I don’t mean that in a serial killer way.
Send.
Me: I meant that I’ve seen how handsome your face is.
Send.
Me: And that obviously you wouldn’t have to settle since you look the way you do.
Send.
Me: Reimplementing the blocking request. See text from two days ago.
Send.
I turn my head to my second computer monitor, which is currently off, and stare at my reflection on the black surface.
This is why you’re single.
My phone buzzes.
Big Guy: I deeply regret not texting you yesterday. Clearly, you’re the cure for changing a normal day into a good day.
How many times can a person swoon in one text conversation?
Me: If you message me again tomorrow, I’ll do my best to make your normal day good.
Send.
Wow, that sounded stupid.
I set the phone down and sit on my hands.
He knows what I mean. I don’t need to clarify.
Big Guy: I’m going to hold you to that. Until tomorrow, Angel.
I pick my phone back up and stare at the screen, wondering if it would be strange to kiss it.
Yes, it would.
Me: Bye, Dom.
Send.
24 hours later
Big Guy: Evening, Angel. Did you use your backpack today?
Me: I did not. But it’s sitting in the middle of my living room, so I saw it.
Big Guy: Close enough. I have to jump on a call but wanted some Valentine goodness first.
Me: Goodnight, Mr. Workaholic. I’m already in my pajamas.
Big Guy: Goodnight, sleepy girl.
My half brother’s chef clears away the dinner plates, and no matter how many times I eat here, it’s still a little strange to be waited on like we’re in a restaurant.
Brother. I’m trying to remember to just call King and Aspen my brother and sister and drop the half, even if I’m only saying it in my head. I don’t want to have that divide between us forever.
King’s housekeeper steps into the room, helping the chef with the dishes, and I’m reminded that nothing is ever normal around here—in this giant mansion with guard dogs, a manned gate, and round-the-clock armed security. But since King is some sort of mafia person, I suppose normal is relative.
Is The Alliance mafia?
I honestly don’t know the difference between the mafia and regular organized crime. If there even is a difference. And it’s not like I can just google it. Well, I could. But I know enough about the whole Alliance thing to know that King has some major computer skills. And I don’t really want to be detained by his men for googling “what is the mafia.”
It doesn’t really matter anyway. Except for the driver that King makes me use, for my own safety, I’m not involved. I doubt the Vass siblings would have told me about it if they could have gotten away with it. And I don’t really know what, if anything, Aspen does for The Alliance, but I know she knows more than me.
Either way, giving me a bodyguard is probably a sign that they actually like me and it hasn’t just been some act. If they didn’t care about me, they wouldn’t mind if I got abducted by some enemy.
My mouth pulls into a frown as I remember the man who tried to kill Savannah not that long ago. In this very house.
“You okay?” Savannah asks me from her spot across the table.
I realize something must have shown on my face, so I quickly smile. “Yeah, good! Sorry, just zoned out there.”
“Probably working too much. Seems to run in the family.” She snorts.
King shakes his head as he stands from his seat next to her. “Quit spreading lies, Honey. You work more than I do.”
Savannah just grins as she pushes her chair back.
Aspen got up to take a call a few minutes ago.
News recently broke that her husband, Leland, passed away while on a work trip overseas. Their sources are saying it was a previously unknown heart condition, one that runs in his family. But being a stubborn man, Leland never went to the doctor to get checked for it. Even though his wife constantly begged him to.
When the story first came across my newsfeed online, I nearly spit out my coffee.
I knew the family would have to pronounce Leland dead eventually, and I’m positive the whole string of information was carefully crafted by Aspen before it was released. Still, the whole concerned wife angle was too much for me not to react to. Since, in reality, Leland had been cheating on Aspen, and Aspen was the one who asked King to kill him.
But sure, heart attack it is.
God, I wish I had someone I could talk to about this!
And it’s not because I’m scared of Aspen or King; I’m not. As far as I’m concerned, fuck Leland—he earned what he got. But it’s just such good gossip. And I want to get drunk with someone and laugh about it.
But there’s no one for me to do that with.
I take my phone out of my pocket, and my chest heats when I see a text notification.
Big Guy: Hope you’re having a good dinner. My family is over, and I’m about to kick a nine-year-old’s ass in Mario Kart.
I grin.
It’s been almost two weeks since our flight together, and other than the day right after, we’ve texted every day since.
We don’t message a lot at once, but it is every day. And it’s been so… nice. Like just so nice.
Me: Sounds like a great achievement. I’m about to sit outside around a fire and eat dessert with a bunch of adults.
Send.
While I wait for his reply, I daydream about being able to tell him everything about my family. He’s told me about his big family a few times, but with murder, crime, and intrigue, I’d definitely win the my family is crazier debate.
Big Guy: I can think of a dessert I’d like to eat by the fire.
“Damn!” Savannah exclaims from behind me, and I smash my phone against my chest to hide the screen.
“Oh my god! Nosy much?” I’m too embarrassed to sound mad.
Savannah starts laughing. “I wasn’t even trying to look.”
I push back from the table and get up, keeping the phone against my chest. “Sure you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t!” she insists. “I was going to try and startle you.” Savannah snickers. “But I startled myself instead.”
I lift a hand to cover my mouth in a vain attempt to hide my stupid grin. “That wasn’t the response I was expecting either.”
“So…” Savannah waggles her eyebrows at me. “Who is Big Guy?”
I slide my hand up to cover my eyes. “Just some guy,” I groan. “It’s new, and I don’t want to jinx it, but I really like him.”
“Hmm.” I drop my hand to see Savannah narrowing her eyes at me. “So, where did you meet Mr. No Name?”
I was tempted to change his name in my phone the other night, but now I’m glad I didn’t. Savannah and King share everything, and even if Savannah mentioned it casually, King would probably end up going into crazy overprotective mode and run a background check on him. Maybe even show up in Chicago to question him in person. And that would be bad. Like epic bad. And it would definitely kill this thing between Dom and me before it even started.
“At the airport,” I admit as my phone vibrates against my cleavage.
Because I have no willpower when it comes to him, I pull my phone back to check the message.
Big Guy: I really shouldn’t let you distract me with your dirty talk. Now I’m going to lose my next race and it’s going to be all your fault.
I press my lips together.
How is he so cute?
“What does he look like?” Savannah asks as she leans closer, arching her neck to try and look over the top of my phone.
I press the phone back against my chest. “Hot.”
Savannah snickers at my answer. “That’s a good start.”
I sigh. “He’s tall and handsome and has these beautiful eyes and…” I trail off when I see Savannah’s wide-eyed expression. “What?”
“You really like him, don’t you?”
My shoulders lift. “Yeah, but it’s long distance. And it just happened, and I don’t even know if we’re, like, actually dating or just, like, talking every day.” I lift my shoulders again. “But he makes me smile.”
Her expression softens. “Well, whatever it is, I’m happy for you.”
Warmer emotions push the embarrassment out of my cheeks. “Thanks.”
It wasn’t too long ago that Savannah and I got a little tipsy and shared our dream wedding ideas. Mine was ridiculous because it’s been forever since I’ve even had a boyfriend, so no real chance of a wedding anytime soon. And Savannah’s was ridiculous because she was already married. And her wedding was… unconventional.
“Come on.” Savannah grabs my arm and pulls me toward the kitchen, where patio doors lead into the backyard.
I let her lead me and wait until I’m seated in one of the big wooden chairs before I check my phone screen again.
Me: My sister-in-law saw your text about “dessert,” and now I’m dying of embarrassment, so I kind of hope your nephew kicks your ass.
Send.
Me: But I also don’t want to date a loser, so you better win.
Send.
Crap.
Me: Not that we’re dating.
Send.
Me: I mean, I’m not seeing anyone else, but we didn’t make any commitments or anything.
Send.
Why am I even allowed to have a phone anymore?
Me: If you can send one of your relatives to come push me off the Rainbow Bridge so I can plummet into the abyss and disappear from this world, that would be great.
Send.
“Who’re you texting?” King’s voice sounds from right beside me.
I jump so hard that the chair starts to tip over.
King places his elbow on the back corner of my chair, pressing it back to the ground.
Savannah laughs from the other side of the fire. “She’s all jumpy because she’s talking to a boy.”
“Savannah!” I chastise.
When the man at my side doesn’t move, I dart my eyes up to King.
And sure enough, he’s staring down at me with a very serious look. “Who is he?”
I’m not even surprised by his question.
“No one,” I squeak, then clear my throat. “He’s not from here.”
“Where’s he from?” King hardly even lets me finish my sentence.
I hold up a hand. “We were seated next to each other on my flight back from Denver and exchanged numbers. I promise I’ll tell you guys if it turns into anything, and then you can ask me all the questions you want. But since we’ve only met the one time, I don’t want to make it into a whole thing. Okay?”
King tilts his head. “Is he the reason you were late getting your luggage?”
My mouth drops open.
My intimidating brother inclines his head. “That’s what I thought.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Savannah is leaning over her armrest to try and see us around the flames.
“Nothing,” I try to say, but King talks over me. “Bo reported that she was thirty minutes late getting down to baggage claim after that flight.”
Savannah grins. “Way to go, Val!”
I press my hands to my cheeks and stare at Savannah, refusing to look up at King. “Can we please talk about literally anything else?”
He doesn’t move right away, and I’m worried he’s going to demand more, but then Aspen comes out of the house carrying a tray with our dessert.
“Warm apple crisp with ice cream,” she tells us as she approaches. “Cici’s really leaning into the fall theme,” she says, referring to the cook.
Savannah comments on how crazy it is that it’s already October, and I have to agree. But I also feel like these couple weeks of texting with Dom have made time fly by even faster.
King takes a pair of dishes for himself and Savannah while Aspen hands me the last bowl before she takes the chair between Savannah and me. Aspen jumps into asking Savannah something about the next charity auction they’re hosting, and I thank the powers that be that I dodged that bullet.
It’s not that I’m worried they won’t like Dominic. And I’m not worried they’ll find some shady past and try to tell me not to date him. I’m just not ready to pull Dom into this messed-up crime-family bullshit. Not yet. Not until we know each other better. Because letting people in on all this is probably more husband territory than fling territory.
My phone vibrates, and I remember the string of messages I just sent Dominic.
With everyone else distracted, I peek at his reply and smile around a mouthful of spiced apples.
Big Guy: Every day, you make my day.
Big Guy: Tell me to have a good day.
Me: Have a good day, Big Guy.
Big Guy: What are you having for dinner?
Me: Spaghetti.
Big Guy: Homemade?
Me: If adding stuff to jarred sauce counts, then yes.
Big Guy: Send me a pic.
Umm…
I debate for a moment, then hold the phone up, check the lighting, and snap the photo.
Me: *sends selfie*
Oh, shit! Did he mean the spaghetti?
Big Guy: Damn, Angel. You need to warn a man.
Uhh… what does that mean?
Big Guy: I was expecting carbs, not your pretty face.
Big Guy: For the record, this is way better than a plate pic.
He called me pretty.
Me: *sends photo of my half-eaten plate of spaghetti*
Big Guy: Valentine, tell me you’re in town this week.
I look at the calendar on my wall, like confirming it’s still Monday will change my answer.
Me: Dominic, tell me you’re joking.
My phone vibrates with a call.
“Hello,” I answer, and my voice sounds breathy with nerves.
We’ve been texting daily for the whole month of October, but we don’t talk on the phone that often. So knowing I’m about to hear his voice has my heart thudding.
“Hey, Mama.”
Since I’m sitting in bed, where no one can see me, I let my eyes roll back and mouth, oh my god.
Seriously, why is that so hot?
“Tell me you’re in town this week,” he demands.
I groan. “I can’t. I leave tomorrow and then fly home Saturday.”
“Of fucking course.” Dominic sounds resigned.
“Should I even ask?” I bite my lip.
“Only if you want to feel crushing disappointment,” he grumbles.
“Let me guess. You’re going to be visiting my lovely state the exact dates I’m going to be gone.”
“That’s the gist of it.” I hear the sound of an elevator’s doors dinging open on Dom’s end of the line. “Well, shit. Where are you going?”
“Hawaii.” I sigh. Like going to Hawaii is anything less than amazing.
Dom chuckles at my tone. “Poor darling. Is this for work or fun?”
“Fun. Though staying home is sounding like a lot of fun, too.”
Dominic lets out a full laugh. “Did you just compare me to a tropic vacation?”
I smirk into my empty room. “I didn’t say I was canceling my ticket.”
He laughs again. “Angel, you wound me.”
“Uh-huh.” I flop onto my back, the mattress making me bounce a little. “But even if I wanted to, it’s a family thing, so I can’t really reschedule.”
I press my lips together. That sounded like a bit much. We’ve only met once, and even fake offering to reschedule a vacation is crazy.
Way to speed right to clinger territory, Val.
“Family thing could be fun.”
Okay, so he’s not acting like that was weird.
“My half—” I stop and correct myself. “My brother is renewing his vows with his wife. So it’s basically a wedding, but not exactly.”
Should I be saying this?
What if he asks about their first wedding?
Or how they met? Because I can’t really tell him any of that since King literally kidnapped his wife and blackmailed her into marrying him.
“Ah.” He makes a noise of understanding. “I’ve been to more than one vow renewal, so say no more. Nice place for it, at least.”
I nod, glad he didn’t ask any of the questions I just had a minor heart attack panicking over. “It is. My brother rented out a group of those over-the-water bungalow things. Which is great, because apparently, my new thing is to let men buy me expensive things.”
“You better just be referring to me and that little backpack,” Dominic says flatly.
I snort. “Who else is buying me things?”
“Good answer.” Dominic exhales. “I gotta go. Tell me to have a good night and send me a picture when you get to Hawaii.”
“Have a good night, Dominic.”
“Night, Angel.”
Me: *sends photo of myself standing on the deck of my bungalow*
My lungs fill with the warm morning air.
With the ocean underneath and all around, and with the sun just barely rising, the place feels magical.
Otherworldly.
I take another deep breath.
And quiet.
I’m ready early. I’m always ready early. So I’m the only one standing out here, but I know King is two bungalows down. His best friend, Nero, and his wife are in the one between us, and Aspen is on the far side of King.
And…
The breeze flutters my bright pink skirt around my knees.
And even with them all so close, I feel lonely.
So goddamn lonely.
I press my lips together.
This isn’t about me. I’m here for King and Savannah.
I exhale.
And Aspen is here alone, too. So it’s not like it’s just me and a bunch of couples. But…
I do another set of inhales and exhales.
But Aspen and I aren’t close.
She’s not mean to me. And she’s not indifferent to me like she used to be. I can’t even begin to imagine the mind-fuck stuff she’s dealt with recently. But still…
I’ve tried.
I’ve tried really hard to be her sister. Just as hard as I’ve tried with King. And they’re both nice to me. It’s just…
I close my eyes.
I’m happy King found Savannah. They’re good for each other. And I’m happy he’s doing this for her—surprising her with this sunrise ceremony. And I’m going to have fun today. I will.
I just need to quit hoping for things that are never going to happen.
I open my eyes and look around at the walkways connecting the buildings.
And I need someone else to come out of their fucking bungalow so I’m not standing here like I’m the only person left in the world, in possibly the most romantic setting in the world.
It’s annoying.
I lift my phone the second I feel Dominic text me back.
Big Guy: You look beautiful.
Each word resonates between my ribs, meaning so much more than he could imagine.
Me: I wish I’d stayed home with you.
Delete.
Me: I wish you were here with me.
Delete.
Me: Thank you.
Send.
Big Guy: *sends photo of empty first-class seat*
Big Guy: I’m already annoyed at whoever is going to make me get up so they can sit here because I know it won’t be you.
I shield my eyes from the sun and smile at the phone.
Me: Just remember, The Fugitive is off-limits.
Send.
Big Guy: Obviously. That’s our movie.
“You smiling over your mystery man?” Aspen says, surprising me.
I tip my head to the side, laid back in my lounge chair, to look at her.
She’s in the same position as me, a few feet away, our faces shaded by the big umbrella.
“Yes,” I admit.
Aspen purses her lips. “The longer you try to keep his identity a secret, the more curious everyone is gonna get. And a curious King can be an extremely obnoxious thing.”
She’s speaking the truth.
“I just want to meet him in person one more time.” Everyone knows that we met in the airport and had a flight together. And everyone speculates about why I was late to get my luggage. “If we still hit it off after that, then I’ll take a photo of his driver’s license and give it to King.”
I don’t even bother complaining about Bo tattling on me.
Aspen leans her head back, closing her eyes. “I still say you should let King run the guy now. Can never be too careful.”
I make a humming sound, understanding her point but having nothing to add.
Unlike Aspen and King, I’m not wealthy. I’m not powerful. I’m just a normal no one.
So there’s no one out there targeting me for some sort of marriage of benefit. If a man marries me, he inherits an Ikea living room set, an expensive blender I’ve used twice, and a savings account that could buy a decent used car, but not a luxury one.
My lids slide closed.
Dom’s not after me for my money or anything else. And when I get home tomorrow, I’m going to make seeing him in person a priority.
Me: *sends photo of my feet between two other sets of feet on the plane*
Me: Guess who forgot to make her seat selection and ended up sitting bitch in row twenty-seven?
Send.
Big Guy: My poor Valentine.
Big Guy: Happy Halloween, Shorty. Tell me, are you dressing up as an angel?
Me: Well, it’s 8 p.m. and I’ve already got my costume on.
Send.
Me: *sends photo of myself on the couch in a hoodie with a headband holding my hair away from the green clay mask on my face*
Big Guy: Terrifying.
Me: It’s keeping all the kids away. Guess I’ll just eat this bowl of candy myself.
Me: I’m having a sad day.
Delete.
Me: Hope your flight to Arizona was good.
Send.
Big Guy: Some asshole bumped into me in the airport and didn’t even buy me a cookie.
Big Guy: It’s been a week, Angel. Tell me something good.
Me: Jury’s still out if this is good or not, but I’m about to board a plane.
Send.
Big Guy: That vacation a couple weeks ago already wearing off?
Me: Ha! I wish I was going back to Hawaii.
Send.
Big Guy: Where are you going?
Me: Vegas. I got invited to a last-minute bachelorette party by one of my coworkers. We’re getting there tonight, staying two nights, and then coming back Sunday.
Send.
Me: Make my weekend better and tell me you happen to be in Vegas right now.
Send.
Big Guy: I’m in Vegas right now.
