I hold up a hand. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I knew she’d find me eventually. I just didn’t expect it’d be today. Or that she’d go to such extremes. Do you know who she manipulated to get inside?”
Lance gives a sad nod. “A good friend of mine. Had his heart shattered in his divorce. He sounded so happy when he called me to ask for a plus-one. This is going to devastate him.”
He won’t be the first. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. Like you said, she would have found another way.”
“About what she said,” Tilly says, her voice thick and her expression hesitant. I try to remember the last thing she said before they walked in. “We do love you,” she says. “We always have.”
“I know.” I smile. “Even back then, I think I knew, or at least wanted to. But knowing and accepting are two very different things. Growing up, anything that seemed too good to be true usually was, and I think I would have used any excuse to reinforce that belief if it meant avoiding heartache.”
“I’m so sorry we didn’t do more,” she says.
“You did more than anyone else ever has for me. And you were right to be cautious. You had five other kids to protect. She could have bailed the second you slammed that door in her face, but she could have also tried to charge you with kidnapping, or God knows what else. She’s unpredictable, especially when she’s desperate for cash.”
“I just wish we hadn’t lost time. That you and Pres hadn’t lost so much time.”
I look past Tilly just as my wife rushes through the door, eyes wide and searching as she scans the room until she finds me. She lets out a relieved sigh. “I think we both needed time,” I say, smiling. “Me most of all. And I love our story. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Pres walks up, and I pull her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Nothing?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe a little less tequila. I would have liked to remember what you looked like walking down the aisle the first time.”
“Pretty sure I looked exactly like I did the second time.”
“And how is that?” I ask.
“Happy.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
PRESLEY
“What if…we just stayed on our honeymoon indefinitely?” I say over my shoulder as I lazily sip coffee on the deck of our suite overlooking the ocean. The waves crash below us. There’s a hint of pine in the misty ocean air, and I swear I can see every star in the sky out here where the forest meets the sea.
Hollis joins me, taking the lounger next to me. We’re in matching robes, having just showered—and fucked—after a full day of hiking, followed by a couples massage and private dinner on the beach.
We’ve had the best honeymoon. We spent a day in Santa Cruz, riding rollercoasters and eating cotton candy. We rode the cable cars in San Francisco and bought sourdough at Boudin Bakery. We craned our necks looking at the redwoods in Muir Woods, and then we drove down Highway 1 to Big Sur, where my husband has been spoiling me at this luxury resort on a cliff.
Now you understand why I don’t want to go back to real life?
“If we don’t go back, you’ll never be able to order that tile you love,” he says tauntingly.
“Don’t use my tile against me.”
“Don’t forget about the countertops.”
I groan, remembering the beautiful veined marble. So shiny. So smooth. “Okay, now you’re just being mean.”
He chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. This resort has the best coffee. I don’t know what brand it is, but I’m going to find out and buy it in bulk. “You’d just get restless in a few days anyway. You’d be the one dragging me back.”
He’s not wrong. While I’m a big fan of rest and relaxation—self-care is important, folks—I also love my job.
“What are you smiling about?” he asks.
“Just realizing how good it feels to be actually excited to return to work. I’d forgotten what that feels like. It all just felt so hopeless after everything with Jace.”
“Which wasn’t your fault.”
