I allowed his face to disappear inside my shoulder and embraced him until there was no more space between us. We melted into each other, his heartbeats against my skin, my hair in his nose, his fingers on my waist. Our bodies joined together, even more so than in the red truck.
Dean didn’t produce any tears, but that didn’t mean he didn’t cry. He did, and I cried with him. For Luna, who was only a year old, and was already going through something more traumatic than most people experience in a lifetime. For Trent, who was always somehow being forced to grow up, always the one to get screwed over. And I cried for me, because I knew, right there and then, that a part of me was already his despite my best efforts. I never stopped loving Dean Cole. Not even for one damn moment. I just convinced myself that I stopped caring.
Until I didn’t.
Until now.
FROM SADNESS GROWS LIFE. THAT’S what my dad always said.
That night, I slept in Rosie’s room.
We didn’t have sex. We didn’t mess around. We didn’t even kiss.
But our legs were tangled and our skin touched and it felt more real than any other shit I experienced in any bed, at any time. In the morning, I had to sneak so I could hop in a taxi to the airport, but I did leave her a note.
This is happening, Sirius.
Sincerely,
—Your Bronze Horseman
The flight to Vegas was a blur.
I was sober and conscious yesterday—the day I had spent with Rosie—and it felt weird…but nice. The high I got was natural, from imagining her dressing like a stripper, cuffing me to my bed, and sitting on my face until I couldn’t breathe and her pussy was completely numb. But then Trent got that phone call and my world had collapsed.
Val’s betrayal sweltered in my stomach along with what Trent said after he’d found out. “She’s never going to see her kid again unless she commits to being a parent first. I’ve had enough of her bullshit.”
As much as it pained me to admit it, he was fucking right, too. You couldn’t half-ass parenthood. It wasn’t a lazy Sunday morning fuck. Either you were completely in or you were completely out. Anything in-between was a mindfuck to the kid, and I had to remember that, now more than ever.
Trent flew out to Chicago to get Luna—his parents were waiting for them in Todos Santos and were going to help him pull through this nightmare—and Jaime and I immediately called off the bachelor party. It was Trent who threatened us with physical violence to go through with our original Vegas plans. His reasons:
He was going to Chicago to discharge his daughter from the hospital, where she stayed with a very freaked-out, thoroughly scarred babysitter, so it wasn’t like he was loitering around waiting for our royal asses to come hold his hand.
Vicious was only going to get married once (considering his bad temper and fuck-all attitude, we all knew that there will not be a second Millie to tolerate his shit).
#$%%VTCF#$^$^&@3. Val fucking bailed on his daughter and he had no time to deal with our first-world, white-men problems, anyway.
It was a Sunday in August, and The Strip was bustling with tourists, drunk half-naked girls, and angry, radical Christians with a mic trying to pull all the sinners back to the light. After we dumped our duffel bags in our presidential suite, Vicious toed his leather Oxfords off and said, “I love my future wife, I really fucking do, but I hope we’re not going to bump into her annoying-ass friends too many times this trip. I need to see more of her younger sister like I need a bullet to my fucking head.”
“How do you mean?” I took off my Rolex and multi-colored Versace shirt, heading to one of the bathrooms. I needed to throw up and take a shower to feel human again. Nina had called me multiple times during the short flight—fifty? Sixty? I stopped counting—leaving several voice messages I didn’t bother listening to.
The shit with Trent had reminded me of how much I needed to stay away from her and him, even if curiosity burned every bone in my goddamn body. It just wasn’t fair, and even though my dad was right—life isn’t fair—I was the one to call the shots on this one, and my decision was to never meet him or her.
And that decision was fucking final.
“They’re going to be here in Vegas. Rosie changed the plans at the last minute. They’ll be staying at this hotel.”
I pivoted, brushing a finger over my lower lip.
“Baby LeBlanc is in Sin City?”
Vicious let loose a malicious grin, scanning me with his cold, dead eyes. “Will be in two hours. They took the next flight in. Why, what the fuck are you going to do about it, man?”
“Whatever she’ll let me.” I kicked my shoes off.
“Make Rosie run it by Emilia first.” He threw a soft pack of Marlboros we used for the blunts—and missed—purposely. “I know Em doesn’t give half a fuck about you, but I don’t want her feeling betrayed by her sister.”
Jaime strolled into the vast space from one of the bathrooms before I had the chance to inform Vicious that I neither answer to his ass nor to Millie’s.
“Trent is going to be a little fucked-up after this.” Jaime sighed, picking up the discarded Marlboros.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” Vicious turned on his heel, walking away from the room, probably to get into the shower himself. Jaime bumped his shoulder into mine, unscrewing a bottle of water and bringing it to his lips.
“Does he know you’re fucking his girl’s sister?”
“What gave it away, Sherlock?” I snagged the Marlboros from his hand and texted my guy in Las Vegas simultaneously, asking him for weed ASAP. Even if I wasn’t going to smoke, it wasn’t fair to deprive Jaime and Vicious of their favorite pastime.
Jaime plopped down on the arm of the plush, white sofa and took another sip of his water.
“Talk about Captain Obvious. Besides, you eye-fucked her at the rehearsal dinner when no one was looking. It was subtle, which means you actually give a damn about what she thinks about you.” He paused, his eyebrows dropping down. “But I paid close attention, so even though you tried to hide it, I still saw it. You wanted to bend her against the table and fuck her raw with her face pressed against someone else’s entrée.”
Thank you, Jaime. I was going to pin that thought and tuck it into my spank bank for a rainy day.
“Is she worth the hassle?” Jaime cocked his head sideways, lifting one eyebrow. I patted his shoulder. Fucking adorable, this guy was.
“She is the hassle.”
“Happy for you, bro. It’s been a while since you were occupied with something other than booze and work.” He grinned. “But we still need to talk about the potential complications. Last time Vicious and you went head-to-head, you compromised Fiscal Heights Holdings in the process. I won’t let it happen again.”