Page 106 of Snapshot

“It’s okay, Dex. You don’t have to?—”

“I feel robbed,” I admit. It’s Lennox. If I don’t open up to her…then who? This is my wife. My partner. I have to at least try.

“What do you mean?”

“Mom never really bought into the whole heiress mentality. She had such a love-hate relationship with Grandpa. She loved him as her dad but never loved what he stood for or how he treated people. Now, in a way, I think I’ve turned into him. When I fired Jensen…” I think about Grandpa, red-faced and angry. His cheeks used to puff out when he was about to rip someone a new one. His eyes were always slightly bloodshot from all the bourbon and whiskey. I remember being afraid of him sometimes. “It was exactly how my grandpa would’ve handled that situation. I don’t know if I should be proud of that.”

Lennox reaches up to straighten my bow tie. “You start nice and clean up even nicer, Dex. Your mom would be so proud of you.”

“Would she?” I ask. “Or did she die, and then I turned into the exact opposite of the man she would’ve raised me to be? I don’t like talking about her because I know I let her down…in most ways.” I kiss Lennox gently. The thick, sticky gloss she has on transfers to my lips. “She would’ve loved you, though. I knowit. You bring me back to the man I think both my mom and grandma wanted me to be.”

She tilts her head to the side. Lennox keeps opening her mouth, then shutting it, like she’s about to say something, then keeps stopping herself. “Who doyouwant to be?” She goes to work, wiping my lips off with her thumb, cleaning her makeup off of me.

“Right now, exactly who I am. I was always destined for the job, but now I have my girl. I’m happy with you by my side.” I smile at her, but she doesn’t return it.

“But does the Hessler part really matter? If it was just you and me and none of the glitz and glam? If you could be a scuba dive instructor, and your wife and children didn’t care if we were broke, living paycheck to paycheck, would you still be happy? Am I enough for you?”

“Wow, baby. Those are a lot of big questions.” I drop to my knee and lift her long dress so her shoes are visible. Running my fingers over the diamond-studded straps, I say, “Don’t worry, Len. You’ll get used to all this. Maybe one day, you’ll even like it.” I plant kisses up her leg but stop at her knee. “We’re already late. Otherwise, I’d take this dress right off.”

She puckers her bottom lip. “Can we stay in next Friday? Just you and me? Movie night. Junky snacks. Turn our phones off?”

I frown. “I’m so sorry. Next week I’m in New York until Sunday. Then the week after that is the dive trip, remember? Last one.” I run my thumb across her cheek. “Don’t worry. It’ll slow down soon. We’ll make some time.” She mumbles something under her breath in a bitter undertone, so I add, “I promise.”

“Okay, fine. Is Joe downstairs?” I nod in reply, and she proceeds to make her way to the elevator. Lennox stops and spins around in place when she notices I’m not following. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just enjoying the view.”

She laughs and continues to the elevator, exaggerating her walk so her hips swing dramatically side to side. The nerves calm as I hear her sweet laugh. My favorite sound in the entire world. Everything is okay. I can make this work. Keep my company afloat, keep my wife smiling.

Hesslers always find a way.

30

Lennox

My face hurts from fake smiling. For the past three hours, it’s been the same conversation over and over again. By now, my answers are rehearsed.Yes, Dex and I are very happy. No, I’m not hiding a pregnancy; we just didn’t want a big ceremony. Yes, my parents are thrilled. No, we aren’t also billionaires. Also, no, I have absolutely no damn clue what I’m doing as the CEO of Hessler Group.That last part is an exaggeration. I’ve kept my trap shut about my work assignment to avoid any open-mouth, insert-foot situations.

Still, the invasiveness of this community knows no bounds. Somebody told me their daughter also has purple hair. She’s thirteen, of course, so I’m not sure if that was a dig or just a desperate attempt to cover the lull in conversation.

After Dex’s short speech, he had to make a few rounds, shaking hands and schmoozing. He left me at our VIP table to rest my feet and fill up on champagne. I’m actually still starving after a five-course meal. The plates were beautiful, but the filet mignon was the size of a shot glass for goodness' sake. I thought wealth made things plentiful, but apparently, rich people don’t really eat. Between the hunger and the copious amounts of DomPerignon, I’m sleepy and slaphappy. All I want is for Joe to pull the limo around and take us home.

As I drain my glass for the umpteenth time, a large man with a white mustache sits down in the chair beside me. I blink, surveying the uninvited stranger, dumbfounded at his shocking resemblance to a walrus.

“Having a good evening?” he asks with a warm smile. His pudgy cheeks bulge into perfect spheres.

“I am. Thank you,” I say, trying not to slur. “How about you?”

He laughs. “I hate these things,” he grumbles. “As soon as the sorry excuse for dessert is served, I’m finding the nearest drive-through and getting a proper meal.”

I drop my jaw. Finally, a normal person here. “What in the world was that green salad thing they served that looked like spaghetti?”

“The seaweed salad?” He barks in laughter. “You were brave enough to try it?”

I nod, smiling. “It did indeed taste like it was from the sea.”

He holds out his hand. “I’m Richard Spellman from Royal Bahamas.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar. “Lennox Mitch—or, Hessler. Lennox Mitchell for now, but eventually Lennox Hessler.”

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