I stand to lean down and kiss her. It’s not a blow job, but kissing her gives that a run for its money. I guess I’m going to live after all.
She twirls and laughs again. “This old thing.” Pausing with her back to me, she glances up over her shoulder. “Do you mind zipping me up?”
“It’s why I’m here. Professional zipper upper at your service.” I slide the zipper up the length of her back, then kiss the top of her shoulder. Again. And again, sliding my hands around to the front to squeeze her tits. “We could stay, just say the train broke down.”
“If he’s really your best friend, he would know you never ride the train.”
“Fair point.” I move in front of her, sliding my fingertips across her shoulders and lower over her arms.
Touching my cheeks, she says, “You look so handsome, Hotshot. Even the black eye disappeared like it knew it needed to be gone by today.” She waffles her head back and forth. “Though I kind of miss it already.”
Chuckling, I say, “I’ll pick a fight in the streets just to get punched for you.”
“Let’s not. I like the rest of your face too much to take the risk of damage.”
My hands land back where I want them. She lets me knead her beauties before she finally rolls her eyes. “You good?”
“No.”
With a laugh, she walks out of the room with the back straps of the heels dangling from her fingers. I follow her into the living room and sit on the couch while she does what she needs to do. The mini-Eiffel Tower that suddenly appeared on the console has never been explained. Seems it won’t be unless I ask, so I finally do. “Why is there an Eiffel Tower by the TV?”
While packing a few things in the small bag she’s taking, she replies, “It’s like a vision board but in 3D form.”
“So you’ve never been to Paris?”
She stops and glances at me. “No. Have you?” I can’t say she’s eventrying to dupe anyone these days since I’m certain she knows she’s not fooling me.
The question almost stumps me. I run a multimillion-dollar company. My family owns properties all over the world. Sure, we both know we’re not married, though it’s never been explicitly stated, but shouldn’t she know this basic information about me? I’m sure the internet would tell her. “Yes. A few times.”
There’s not much of a response, though I do hear a heavy sigh. That could also be that she’s not happy about something that has nothing to do with me. The ring is still on most days, but when I look over at her, she’s twisting it off her finger. Going around to the sink, she washes her hands. Her eyes only meet mine for a quick second before she dries them and returns to her bag. “Ready?” she asks with her back to me, but I can see her slipping the ring back on where it belongs.
Delaney wearing a ring has never bothered me. It has started to feel real in many ways, promising something bigger and that we can overcome the choppy waters of our beginning.Am I naive to feel hopeful?
I get up, straightening my pants and tugging at the sleeves of the tux jacket. Having the sleeve widen just enough to cover the bright white cast makes me feel like a scene stealer. I’d rather the bride be the sole center of attention. But there’s also something I’ve been wanting to do. Before we head off for this special event, it seems like a good time to ask. I pull a marker from that terrible art mug she’s left on my counter and hold it out to her. “Will you sign my cast, Sass?” Helping her lift her jaw off the floor, I add, “Hell’s frozen over.”
“I would say so.” She takes the marker and then pulls the sleeve up just a little. “I’m in shock that you’re willing to graffiti your cast. Isn’t the untidiness going to bother you?”
“Maybe it’s good to be bothered sometimes.” I shrug, panic-stricken on the inside, but I refuse to stop her. “I’m stepping out of my comfort zone.”
“You’re going to love it once you get used to it, and then you’re in a new comfort zone, which leads to the next discomfort, and so on.” The sound of the cap being removed from the marker quickens my pulse. I nod through labored breaths as she leans over. Peering up at me once more, she says, “There’s no going back, Hotshot. Once it’s there, it’s like a tattoo and there for life. Of the cast, of course. So are you sure?”
Don’t back out, Landers.
I exhale and then inhale once more. “Who needs comfort zones anyway?”
“Not Warner Landers, that’s for sure.”
Intentionally moving my arm closer to her, I’ll overcome this as soon as it’s done. “Sign away.”
Studying the options, she asks, “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere you want.”
“Anything I want to write?”
This is becoming more stressful by the ticking second. “Anything you want to write.”
“Any—”
