YOU CAN FALL APART A LITTLE
ASHLEY
“I’m going to kill her,” I mutter.
“Who?” Beckett just steps closer to the bed to survey the collection of colorful vibrators like he’s examining modern art.
“Tay. Babs. Whoever’s responsible for… this.” Then the horrifying realization hits me. “Oh my god, Beckett, it was my mom—she’s the only one with a key.”
“‘In case the boys needed something,’” Beckett says, quoting my mom’s ever-so-reasonable excuse for having emergency access to our room.
We both stare at the bed. Colorful dildos, feathers, and vibrators of varying sizes. Sprawled over the bed, menacingly.
Would my mom really do this? I refuse to imagine why.
“The boys better not have seen these,” I say, too horrified to even move.
Beckett’s eyes meet mine, a grin already tugging at his mouth. “They’d probably think they were some kind of Avengers weapons.”
He walks over and picks up a slim, glowing bullet vibrator. “This one? Definitely a Stark-tech pulse detonator.”
I can’t help it. My lips twitch.
“And this,” he adds, lifting a bright purple rabbit with way too much enthusiasm, “this is obviously Thor’s backup hammer.”
A laugh breaks out of me—short, sharp, but real, and for a beat, we’re both picturing it: Max and Blakey in their swim trunks, standing on this bed surrounded by fluorescent-colored dildos, calling them “plasma grenades” and “laser whips.”
And just like that, the laugh catches in my throat.
It’s been a good day. A great day, really.
So why do I suddenly feel like I might fall apart?
“God.” I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. “What’s wrong with me?”
Tears sting. I blink them back.
“Why am I crying over… dildos?”
Beckett doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks to the sofa and sinks down, watching me.
Patient.
“I’m just tired.” I answer my own question. “It’s been a really long day.” And my mind flashes back to waking up. Freakingregulatory scrutiny. Was that only just this morning?
“Didn’t help that I was late getting ready for Luna’s party. And then Dad not being here, Noah's horrible, bitter old hag of a mother. Seriously, what even was that speech? Who does that?”
I’m trying to be the best sister, the best maid of honor, all while trying to figure out what’s happening with Beckett’s company, and with… us.
I stop before everything spills out. I don’t want to bring it up. Not tonight.
Today was agood day.
It was!
My stomach twists. I sit, hard, next to him. But Beckett doesn’t let me sit there for long. He pulls me into his lap like he’s done a thousand times before.
I don’t fight it. I don’t fight him.
