Page 91 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

I do. My head slowly raises.

His lips curve up, but his expression is wry. “I need you to stop, Rox. You’re overthinking and creating disaster scenarios again. You’re not messing anything up,” he says firmly. “You’re the reason I’m doing this. You’re my why. And if it fucking fails, so be it. But it won’t be because of you. I’ll start over with something new. Don’t you know by now… you are my dream.” His head cocks though his gaze stays connected with mine. “It’s not going to fail though, babe.”

I swallow hard. “I know… I believe in you. And I know I’m talking crazy… You’re just… you. I’ve never had something this good. You love me and I don’t know why. I’m scared one day you’ll wake up and realize you don’t need me and I’m more trouble than I’m worth. That terrifies me, Chase.”

He brushes his thumbs under my eyes and shakes his head. “Baby, I wish you could see what I see when I look at you. I love you… because how the hell could I not love you? You’re smart. You’re driven and so fucking brilliant. You’re sunshine and a hurricane mixed with some good old fashioned southern crazy. And I love that about you. From the first moment you orbited my space, you stole the damn air. You frustrate me and you inspire me, and you make me insane with desire that makes me want to be inside you every second of every single day. All while I also want to shield you and protect you even though you don’t need me to. You’re literal chaos. But you know what? ”

“What?” I whisper.

“You are the perfect chaos. You’re my chaos and you make this life worth living. When we’re ninety, I’m still going to chase you around the kitchen in my walker because I know that I’ll be just as in love with you then as I am right now. I’m going to be that freaky old man who still gets hard for his still smoking wife while the grandkids scream about how disgusting we are all while they dream that they find a love like ours.”

Oh, Chase.

I exhale. “You always know what to say.”

He grins softly. “It’s a gift.”

I laugh, burying my face in his chest.

“Come back to bed,” he murmurs. “We’ll worry about everything tomorrow.”

For tonight… that’s enough.

The next morning, Chase leaves a sticky note on the coffee maker.

You’re braver than you think. And hotter than you know.

My wife, that’s you, is a BADASS!

XO – Chase

I smile as I sip my coffee in our quiet house before heading to get ready to meet Chase at the food truck.

Maybe I’m not failing as badly as I think.

We’re standing inside the food truck as the health inspector walks through, carefully going over every centimeter and jotting stuff down on her clipboard. .

“You planning to pass this?” she asks without looking up from the fryers.

Chase grins. “You bet we are.”

She drags a finger down her checklist. “Clean surfaces. Food-safe storage. Proper sink installation.”

Chase follows every note. I hover anxiously, jotting down my own reminders, asking questions, trying not to vibrate out of my skin.

Finally, she nods, hugging the clipboard to her chest. “I’m approving your provisional permit. Get your final signage up by the end of the week.”

We exhale together.

Chase pulls me into a hug. “We did it, babe.”

“You did it,” I say proudly.

“No, we.” He kisses my cheek.

That night, we test recipes in the truck.

I perch on the counter, tasting angus beef with sautéed green chilies sliders, chipotle and lime fries, and Chase’s secret sauce. Chase works the grill and the fryer simultaneously. His shirt is damp with sweat and humidity, and his smile is wide.

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