We’re holding hands. Not for the first time, but now we’ve added benefits to our make-believe relationship, holding her hand feels different. It’s nothing exciting for most people, but it sure is for me.
Exciting. Intimate. Fucking amazing.
“More or less,” Addie admits. “Not fun, right?”
“Not really. What’s the point if no one’s toasting marshmallows or drinking beer by the fire?”
The low coffee tables under the canopy bend under the weight of gourmet snacks, fruit, and... damn. There’s even a chocolate fountain.
Addie steps out of our two-person line, dragging me toward the pop-up bar. “I made some arrangements.” She grins, her pace quickening.
Her elbows touch the bar a moment later, and she beams at the waiter, leaning closer like she’s divulging national secrets. “Do you have my order ready?”
“Of course, miss,” the bartender says, fetching a bucket of Coronas on ice, a few long sticks and a pack of giant marshmallows. “Enjoy.”
Addie pulls a few bills from her purse, since the bar’s not part of the yacht, but the bartender shakes his head and points at a laminated card by the till.
Open bar, courtesy of Grant.
Of course. Mr. Show-off had to leave his mark. Whenever I open a tab for family or friends, I don’t shout it from the rooftops so everyone knows who’s paying. I don’t do it to get athank you. Grant, on the other hand, loves to boast.
“He can’t help himself, can he?” I say, grabbing the beers.
Addie shrugs, hugging the marshmallows. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. Be glad he didn’t put his picture up there this time to make sure anybody who doesn’t already know him has no doubt who’s buying their drinks.”
Talk about ostentatious.
Nodding politehellosineveryone’s direction, we walk past the seating area, heading straight for the bonfire.
“You want one?” Addie asks with a stick in hand, skewering a marshmallow as soon as we sit down.
My first instinct is to take the sharp stick out of her hand, but I have a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate that, no matter how pure my intentions.
Thankfully, she’s extremely focused on what she’s doing as the flames dance around, mirroring in her pupils.
“Yeah, I’ll have one, too,” I say instead ofgive me that, baby, I’ll do it.
It takes less than a minute before I hear footsteps from behind. “Ah, marshmallows and beer,” Addie’s father says, plopping down on the sand beside us. “Brings back memories. Mind if I join you?”
Addie passes him a stick. “Do you even know how to toast a marshmallow?”
“Your father knows everything,” Grant says, joining us with more sticks. “I, on the other hand, might need some pointers. I’ve never done this before.” He rubs his chin, sitting carefully down beside Addie. “What do I do?”
Addie rolls her eyes so subtly only I notice. She grabs a marshmallow, handing it over to Grant.
“Watch and learn,” she says, pointing at her father. “It’s not rocket science.”
“He’ll poke his eye out with that,” Benjamin chuckles, coming over with Amara.
Well look at that. Simple marshmallow-toasting is gaining a following.
“I think I’ve got it,” Grant mutters. “So, how about we get to know each other a little better, Colt? I’ve not heard your story yet.” He looks between me and Addie. “Where did you two meet?”
“At a bar I own,” I say, thinking back to the meet-cute story we rehearsed and haven’t needed.
“And how long have you been together?”
“Almost three months.” Addie smiles, leaning closer to me, her head landing on my shoulder. “Feels like three years.”
