Hey, I let her pick which chapel.
As I stare down into her eyes while the organist plays “Viva Las Vegas,” I can’t help grinning. I savor the unfamiliar joy swelling inside me.
Because I’vedoneit.
She’s mine.
Now it’s only a matter of time before Owen’s mine, too.
* * * *
My plan works, so far. A week after returning to Tampa, I claim Owen after revealing everything and giving him the choice to stay or leave.
He chooses us—meaning he understands he’ll belong tome.
With that settled, it’s time to start enacting part two, which is working toward our law degrees and getting Owen and Susa elected. I feel confident, maybe even a little cocky.
With them by my side, I know we’re unstoppable.
Except…
All good plans have at least one downside. It’s the give-and-take of life.
I saved three lives and nearly lost mine.
I lived out my fantasies in Germany, and nearly lost my soul.
I gained the man of my dreams—who’s in love with my wife.
It is what it is.
Another downside is that I amnotlooking forward to explaining to Senator Benchley Evans that I am now his son-in-law. Doesn’t mean I’m going to shy away from doing it. I know how I handle this will set a tone for the rest of our marriage between myself and Susa, myself and Benchley, as well as for the relationship Susa and I both have with Owen.
If it were up to me, I’d consider life perfect with my two pets and maintain the status quo—get our law degrees, go into practice together, and raise kids together, the three of us.
Unfortunately, that isn’t going to come anywhere close to making one of my pets happy. Owen could live without politics if he’s kept happy in other ways. I know this with all certainty. And Susa would agree to a life in the private sector if I asked it of her, but she would likely grow bitter and resentful over the years as she watched others achieve what she did not.
I’m a bastard, but I’m not an asshole.
Keeping Susa happy will keep Owen happy.
Keeping Owen happy is my priority.
That means politics are in our future, like it or not.
I’m not actually sure which news is going to piss Benchley Evans off more—that I am now his son-in-law, or that Susa and I both now sportIs on our voter registration cards.
I guess if he didn’t want an independent-minded daughter, he shouldn’t have raised her in his metaphorical spitting image.
We’re on our way to Tallahassee for a weekend get-together the GOP is putting on for pre-law students. We’ve been married for less than a month, but finals are over for the semester, Owen and I are moved in with Susa, and we’re going to have dinner with Susa’s parents tonight at their house in Tallahassee.
There should be fireworks.
We’re staying in a hotel, obviously.
I’m driving Susa’s car. Owen remains quiet in the backseat as we drive north. Susa acts uncharacteristically nervous, sporadically chatty before sinking into sullen silences as she stares out the passenger window.
I am about to order her into the backseat with Owen to suck his cock and to put both of them in a better mood when Owen softly speaks.
