Hitched (5 page)

Sebastian puts an arm around my waist and tucks me against him. "I care not at all what other people think of me, Kacie. As long as you enjoyed it."

"I did," I admit. He holds my chair as I sit, and once he's sitting across from me, I pull out my purse. Wine has already been served in my absence, and I take a sip and think about what I want to say next.

"I brought the papers we need to fill out and sign. Within a few weeks, this will all be behind us."

I hand the neat stack of legalese to him, and he studies each page methodically as I sip my wine and try to keep my hands steady. His eyes are a dark blue—that cobalt blue that first attracted me to him when he came to introduce himself at the bar, and I wish for a moment that he was looking at me and not the stupid papers.

To keep myself busy, I pull a pen out of my purse and push it his way. "There were things I couldn't fill out about you."

He nods, continues to read, and when the server brings us fresh bread with garlic butter, I use the food as the distraction I need to survive such a long silence.

The bread is so good I nearly die of carb addiction right then and there. I eat three pieces before he finally puts the paperwork down and reaches for my hand, which—oh God—has a bit of butter on it.

He sees the butter and the utter horror in my eyes, and instead of just letting go so I can wipe my own hand, he…

Damn. That. Man.

He sticks my fingers in his mouth and sucks. Slowly. Deliciously. And I want to drag him back to the bathroom for round two because I can still feel the ache that having him inside me created, and the other kind of ache that having him pull out of me left.

But instead, I gently withdraw my hand, wipe it on a cloth napkin and glance at the pen. "It would be easier if we can just get the paperwork out of the way now. I'm happy to drop this off and file it all, no problem. I know you must be a very busy man."

He nods. "I am. So busy I've deprived myself of a lot of things to become who I am. And now I find that those things I thought were trivial, incidental, not relevant to the meaningful life I’m creating... some of them have turned out to be the most important. Love, family, connection. Bearing witness to another's journey and knowing she bears witness to mine... that we will grow and share the most precious of our moments on earth with each other. I thought I didn't need any of that to be happy."

He reaches for my hand again and strokes the inside of my wrist with his thumb, softly, gently. "I was wrong," he says, his eyes so deep I want to swim in them.

I don't know what to say because I'm not sure what he's trying to say. Or maybe I do know what he's trying to say, but I don't want to know. I want to stick to the plan. I like plans. They have gotten me through life well. I don't like this off-the-book nonsense.

He stacks the paperwork back into its neat pile, which I appreciate, and pushes it back to me, unsigned. Which I most definitely do not appreciate.

"Kacie, I don't know what it is about you, but I can't let you go. I want to know you better. I want you to know me better. Give me this summer. One summer to show you we're meant to be together. If at the end of the summer you don't want what we have, I'll sign your papers. But by the end of the summer, you won't want me to."

I freeze, stunned, unsure how to respond. Of course I can't stay married to him all summer long. That's absurd. Ridiculous. Totally outrageous.

"No! You have to sign these. We have to end this now. It's not right. We're not right. We don't belong together."

He smiles, and I melt a little, but I refuse to let him see that.

"We do. I think somewhere inside that pragmatic mind of yours, you know that. But it's okay; we have time for me to show you how right we are for each other, and how wrong you are to think otherwise."

I'm getting angry for real now. "You can't force me to date you." I stand, grabbing my paperwork. "I'll hire a lawyer and make this happen without your signature."

He nods and light from the candle on the table reflects in his eyes. "You could do that, at considerable expense, and without my signature, it would still take all summer to finalize. I promise you my way will be much less expensive and more pleasurable."

I grab my purse and give him a glare I hope sets him on fire. "This is over. We are over. I'm not interested in your outlandish proposal."

It feels good to stomp away from him in all my fire and brimstone anger. Until I get outside and realize I have no way home.

Sheepishly, I call Tate, who doesn't answer. I call Vi, and she answers on the first ring. "Kacie, what's up babe? Did you marry another total stranger today?"

"Hardy, har, har, bitch. No, I'm trying to annul the one I'm already married to, but he's not signing the fucking paperwork. I just walked out on our non-date discussion, and I was hoping you could pick me up?" I give her the address.

"Sure, I just finished up with a client. Let me change into normal people clothes, and I'll be right over."

Her normal people clothes include spiked nails with silver tips over ruby red polish. A red fedora and black leather pants with red high heels and a corset with red and black roses. We don't share the same idea of “normal,” but I still love her, and right now, I love her a ton. I hug her after sliding into the passenger side of the car.

"Haven't you learned to always drive to a date in your own car?" she asks as she pulls out.

"It was tricky." I explain what happened.

"That doesn't sound tricky, that sounds hot. Why are you ditching this guy for a night at home with just your brother and best friend for company?"

"Shut up. You would not find this hot if it was happening to you. This alpha male 'I'm taking charge of this relationship, and I know what's best' bullshit. I'm not a cave woman to be knocked on her head and dragged back into the cave for a good fuck." But even as I say the words, warmth fills me at the thought of him pulling me into a cave—not by the hair, mind you, but, I don't know, with some ferocity—and fucking me hard by the light of a fire with the cold night air cooling our skin.

"Earth to Kacie, we're home." She stops the car, and I realize I probably missed something she said in my sex-hazed daydreaming.

"Thanks for the ride, Vi. You coming in?"

She shrugs. "Sure. But only if you have liquor. This feels like a night to drink our worries away."

I laugh. "I think I've already drank too much away, don't you? But I'll have one glass of wine."

I'm sure it will surprise no one to discover that by the time midnight strikes, we've finished off two bottles between the three of us. Vi is staying the night in our guest room, and I'm not sure I'm leaving the couch. Tate tosses me a bottle of water, which falls to the ground beside me.

"Drink up, sis, or you'll feel like shit tomorrow."

"That seems inevitable either way," I say, as my high starts to leave me with a hint of headache coming in to replace it.

"Not if you hydrate and take some ibuprofen. And eat an orange." He smiles wickedly and walks into the kitchen to get all the prescribed ingredients.

"You sound like our mother," I accuse him.

"No, she would tell you to stop drinking; it's not ladylike."

I laugh, but it comes out like a very unladylike snort. "True. She would. We should call them. I'm sure they miss us and are just too polite to call because they always think they're bothering us."

He returns with two pink pills and slices of oranges. "They
are
usually bothering us. And you must be really drunk if you think you want to talk to our parents."

I take the pills, eat an orange slice and drink as much water as I can without vomiting. "Be nice. Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?"

He slouches in the overstuffed chair to my side and grins. "I respect one thing, sis. Okay, two things. Money and sexy women."

I reach for a throw pillow, and, well, I throw it at him. It hits him square in the face, and he reacts as if I just beat him with a cast iron skillet. "If I really believed you were that shallow, we would not be business partners," I say.

"Speaking of… " He stands and walks to our answering machine. Shut up, yes, we still have one of those, just for business. It makes it easier for both of us to check messages and to screen calls when we're off duty. Don't mock.

He hits play, and it's a guy's voice who introduces himself as Dan. "I need you to plan a bachelor party for my brother in two weeks. You come highly recommended from a friend."

"Woohoo!" I scream. "We're getting referrals; this is awesome."

Tate grins from ear to ear. "Yup! It's starting to happen. Everything we dreamed about."

"Well, one referral is hardly everything, but I'll take it." I pull out my iPad and make some notes, write down Dan’s phone number and then block out the date for his party. "I'll give him a call tomorrow to set things up and find out what he wants, then I'll book the girls for that night. Will you handle the alcohol order and secure a bartender?"

He rolls his eyes. "I didn't play this for you to freak out and start working at one in the morning. While drunk. I just wanted you to know we had a job coming up. Relax, we'll start working tomorrow."

***

And we do. I don't let a little hangover stop either of us from setting up this new job. Dan is more than happy to book everything we can offer, from the music to the strippers to the open bar. I take a lot of notes during our call and thank him for choosing us, then type up everything for Tate and I to divide and conquer.

"There will be about fifteen guys in attendance, and he wants the booze to flow freely. He's sending the deposit via PayPal today. Once we have it, we can book everyone. He said he already has a room reserved for it at the Bellagio, so we're all set on that end."

We get three more parties booked today, and none of them overlap each other, which is a miracle that makes me smile. I'm almost able to push Dr. Sexy out of my mind. Almost.

When the doorbell rings, I don't even wonder about it, until I see the delivery person with another gift box and a vase full of jasmine and white lilies. I sign, and the guy smirks at me in a knowing way. I resist the urge to slap the smirk off his face.

Inside the box is a golden silk bag with a miniature golden bathtub filled with bath products. Salts, lotion, bath soap and bath oils. I can't bear to throw the flowers away, so I put them on our kitchen table next to the others, but I toss the bath set in the trash, unwilling to indulge these gifts any longer.

He can't force me to stay married to him, the asshat. Married life, kids, the whole picket fence thing—it's fine for some, for many even, and someday it'll probably be something I want. But not today. Not now.

The doorbell rings again, but then the door opens, and Vi walks in, her high heels clicking against the hardwood floors in our entryway. "Good evening, kids. It's time to play!"

I hug her and holler for Tate. "Are you two going out?" It's not unusual for the two of them to go out if I'm not up for it. We met Vi when we first moved here just over a year ago, and the three of us became instant BFFs. We wouldn't have survived the first six months in Las Vegas without her.

"The three of us are going out. You need to either fuck the sexy doctor, or fuck someone else to put him out of your mind."

I hate that she knows me so well. "I can't go out tonight. Too much work to do. But you and Tate have fun."

Tate lumbers down the stairway taking three stairs at a time and looking like a million bucks. Vi whistles. "Looking good, Mr. Michaels. Some girl is about to lose her heart tonight. Poor thing."

Tate scowls at me. "You should come. All work and no play… "

"Yeah, that served me so well last time," I joke.

He shrugs, knowing when to pick his battles. "Fine. We're off. Call if you want to join."

They each kiss me on the cheek, and when they leave, the house is suddenly very quiet and lonely.

I spend a few hours pretending to work, mostly making notes and lists and daydreaming about things I shouldn't.

I finally give up the pretense and decide to take a bath. My eyes wander to the trash bin with the lovely bath set. No one would know if I used it, just a little. Right? Casting my eyes about as if someone might be spying on me and reporting back to Dr. Sexy that yes, I did indeed partake of his gifts, as if this is somehow consent to staying married, I grab the bath kit and head upstairs.

Tate and I have lived together all of our lives, even through college and grad school, so I don't often get time alone. I treasure it, and tonight I set the mood with soft music, candles, a glass of red wine and a salted bubble bath with extra hot water.

As I sink into the luxurious heat, my body breathes a sigh of relief. The tension and stress from the last few days drains out of me, and I close my eyes and lean back, enjoying the music, the sips of wine, the calm.

But it doesn't take long for my mysterious future ex-husband to creep into my mind, undoing my reverie with memories of our torrid night together.