Page 32 of The Plus One

“No, I’m not.”

“Mhm.”

“Is he allowed to come or not?”

“Of course he can come. I told you that you had a plus one.” Sierra paused. “But if y’all turn my wedding into some Love & Hip Hop shit, I’m fighting both of you.”

Kema laughed. “Nobody is ruining your wedding.”

Stephen was still staring at me. “You sure about this, bro?”

I knew what he was really asking. Was I sure I wanted to spend seven days in Cancún with Kel’s ex on my arm knowing damn well Kel would have something to say about it?

I looked at Kema. She was sitting in her kitchen wearing my shirt, trying her hardest to act like nothing had changed between us. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure.”

Her eyes met mine. And I meant that shit. Cancún was just the excuse.

Six

Kema

“Oh my God… It’s hot as hell.” I sighed fanning myself with my hand as we stepped off the private plane Ace had arranged for us to take to Cancún. Yes. Private. Fucking. Plane.

Because apparently Ace Davis had money. And not regular money either. That had been one of the many things I’d learned about him over the past few days. Before this week, if somebody asked me what Ace did for a living, I would’ve said he owned Ace’s. That was it. That was all I knew about him.

Come to find out, that damn bar was probably the least impressive thing he owned. Ace owned a winery, several rental properties, a few commercial buildings, and apparently had investments in some other shit he tried explaining to me before my eyes glazed over and I told him to stop talking.

The nigga was a millionaire. Like rich-rich. He had assets, properties, and investments. He had the type of money that probably required lawyers, accountants, and he even had an investor with a company called Vaughn Investments. Somehow, I’d known this man for years without knowing any of that.

The more time I spent with Ace, the more I realized I didn’t know shit about him. We’d talked damn near the entire flight about our families, our childhoods, things we wanted, things we hated, and random shit that had nothing to do with the fake relationship we were supposed to be creating.

I’d learned the winery had originally belonged to his grandparents. When they passed, Ace inherited the winery while his sister inherited the family farm. His sister still lived there with her husband and their daughters, and from the way Ace talked about his nieces, those little girls had him wrapped around every single one of their fingers.

He was close to his sister. His parents? Not so much. Ace told me both of them were drug addicts, which was why his grandparents eventually stepped in and raised him and his sister. From the way he talked about them, they were his parents in every way that mattered. They gave him the stability his actual parents couldn’t.

We didn’t stay on the subject long. Ace had already accepted his parents for who they were, and I understood not wanting to dig around in shit you’d already made peace with. The more we talked, the more I realized Ace had always just been Markel’s friend to me. Now I was getting to know Ace. And I liked him. Probably more than I needed to. “What’s wrong with your face?” Ace asked.

“Nothing. It’s just hot.”

“Should’ve dressed for the weather.”

I looked down at my outfit. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”

“Nothing.” His eyes traveled over me. “You look good you're wearing pants though."

“I'm not this is linen.”

“Still pants. I was just pointing out why you were hot."

“Linen is not like jeans. And furthermore you don’t have all this body.” I waved a hand over myself. “This ass I'm carrying is why I'm hot.”

Ace laughed and pulled me underneath his arm. “Now we both hot.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You keep saying that.” His hand settled against my waist like it belonged there. He was becoming a problem.

A few days ago, I’d decided sleeping with Ace was a mistake. Now we were in Mexico pretending to be together after having very real sex. Nothing about that sounded like a smart thing to do. But it was too late now.