Page 83 of Almost Paradise

“Why don’t you come over here and find out, princess.” I try to go around Drake to get to her, but he pushes his back into me, not giving me any space to get free. I’m ready to jump on the table and get to her, and I start to do just that, but he snakes an arm around my waist, keeping me in place.

A tall, heavy-set man approaches our table and quickly assesses the situation. He puts an arm around Heather’s waist.

“Come on, Heather,” he says.

“I’m not done talking yet,” she says, pulling away from this man.

“Yeah, you are,” he says before he lifts her off her feet and carries her away. He looks back and mouths sorry.

“Fucking bitch,” I hiss under my breath. I sit back down, and Drake slides into the booth next to me. The bubble we were in has burst, and the playfulness from earlier is gone. I blow a breath upward and move away from Drake.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says. “Their anger should be at me and no one else.”

“Well, there would be no anger if you never got involved with that Scarlett.” I say her name with as much disdain as possible. “Of all the people on this earth, you chose her. That entire family seems like a trainwreck. You’re so gross.”

He puts his hand on my lap, but I push it away. He throws an arm across my shoulders and pulls me closer. “I’m sorry, Ni. Not fighting harder for you and getting involved with Scarlett was the biggest mistake of my life. I’ll apologize every day, but I really don’t want this to ruin our weekend. Please, don’t put the wall back up. You promised.”

I toss my hair aside and pick up my drink. “Fine. I hate the thought of you and her.”

He puts his arm around me, and I let him pull me close. He kisses my temple just like he used to back then. “You’re my wife,” he reminds me.

I don’t tell him, but being called his wife has become a lot more tolerable than when we first married.

“Let’s go. I’ve lost my appetite,” I tell him. Just as the words leave my mouth, the server returns with a cheese and deli tray. He sets it down and tells us what’s on it and that the chef created it specially for Mr. and Mrs. Paradise. When he leaves, Drake wraps a piece of prosciutto around a wedge of goat cheese and puts it to my lips.

“No. We’re here, and we are going to eat. No one is going to chase us out of here or anywhere else. Besides, I want everyone to see me with my beautiful wife.”

I open my mouth, take a bite, and sigh with satisfaction. “Fine but keep the cheese coming.”

“And the drinks,” he says as he refills my glass. “I’m really looking forward to that slutty side.”

I laugh so hard, I almost choke on my food. He rubs my back, but he laughs too, and that evaporates the tension.

The chef sends out a spinach and cheese quiche which is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. That is followed by something sweet. French toast with powdered sugar and fresh strawberries. Drake made that for me several times. We’d have lazy Sundays where he would make an elaborate breakfast, and we’d eat it in his California king bed.

I decide to forget that ugly scene and focus on this moment with this man who is now my husband.

Chapter 45

Drake

“Come here.” She straddles me, and the blanket bunches around us. She wraps her bare legs around my naked body. Her breasts, which are now slightly larger, press against my chest. I run my hands down her sweaty back, and she trembles in my arms.

We stumbled back into the apartment, both drunk from the endless mimosas. After Heather’s scene, things went back to normal, and I was grateful to be able to coax the anger out of her. I realize it’s not hard to do since she’s always been a happy person, but I make a mental note to have words with Heather and Scarlett later.

When we got home, we found our way upstairs and fell onto the bed. We were both too full and drunk to do anything else. She let me hold her, and after about an hour, we took off our clothes and set the bed and the sheets on fire with our passion.

Now, hours later, we’re pressed against each other just like we used to do back then. I want to talk about things. I want to talk about what the last four years were like for her. I want to talk about our future.

“You know what I want to do for our birthday?”

She puts a finger to my lips. “Just a weekend,” she says, deflating me just a little bit. “I don’t want to think about anything beyond that.”

“So, does this penthouse turn into a pumpkin on Monday morning? Does the wall go back up, and you go back to either ignoring me or telling me off?” I try to sound calm, but I know she senses my irritation. I take a deep breath and tamp it down. I’m the one who asked for one weekend, and she’s still learning to trust me again. “We’ve talked about the past,” I remind her.

“Yeah, the good things like those egg sandwiches you used to make for me,” she says. “I like this. I like this weekend and the truce. If we talk too much about things, it will change the mood.”

I rest my forehead on hers and pull her closer. Her exposed pussy rubs against me, and even though I made love to her less than thirty minutes ago, I’m well on my way to wanting her again.

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