Page 97 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

Holden watches from across the parking lot. He’s scowling.

As they pull my fine ass husband into the frame and ask his name, the name of the truck, and a few questions, they rave about the food. I raise my margarita glass in a mock toast, nodding at Holden.

He flips me off.

The influencers say they’re going to tag us, and I grin wider.

Checkmate, muthafucka.

It’s late. I had to put out some fires with an overstimulated bride-to-be at work all day and it took far longer than I expected. Chase and I are on the hood of his truck in the Downtown lot.

“He—Holden—doesn’t seem like he’s gonna stop,” I say quietly. “First the event catering and planning and now the restaurant literally on top of your food truck.”

“I know.” Chase says, linking his fingers with mine. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” I question. “How? How are you just so okay with how much of an asshole he is?”

He shrugs, looking at me. “Is me stressing about his jealousy going to change anything?”

I shake my head. “No, probably not.”

He smiles. “Then, why should I give him that energy? That would give him power.” He brings our linked hands to his mouth and presses a kiss to my wrist. “I’ve already told you, I won. We won.”

I smile, leaning into him. “I love you. I just—I get scared sometimes, you know. That it’ll be too hard. That we’ll get tired. That you’ll get tired of how exhausting it is to be with me. To love me.” I sigh. “And I know what you’re going to say. But it doesn’t mean I don’t get scared.”

He kisses my temple. “It’s okay to be scared, Rox. I get it. I am, too.”

I blink up at him. “You are?”

“Of course.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But you know what I’m more scared of?”

“What?” I ask.

“Not doing it with you.”

I inhale sharply. “Chase…”

“Roxy, I’d rather fail next to you than win without you.” His voice is so sure.

My throat tightens. “You’re gonna make me cry again.”

He smiles gently and pulls me closer. “Good tears I hope?”

“The best. I love you.” He kisses me.

We explore each other’s mouths as fireworks explode in the distance.

Under the glow of borrowed sparks, I come to a realization.

Chase isn’t a what if.

He’s the truth I’ve been scared to admit.

He’s it. He’s always been it.

And maybe it took everything falling apart for me to finally see…

I’m not pushing him away...

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