Page 62 of Run, Run, Roommates
“And maybe we get rid of my futon?”
I answer by pulling her face down to mine and kissing her hard. This was definitely the best Christmas anyone has ever had.
Epilogue
Brin
If I thought I’d get spoiled over Billy Bob’s view from his penthouse, I was sorely mistaken.
“How can Billy Bob go from this”—I wave my arms out at the painfully blue Caribbean water and the infinity pool that meets it—“and then back to the busy, gray, noisy city? I don’t understand.”
“I know,” Marco says, leaning onto the glass banister that separates this patio from the one slightly lower that contains the pool. We have a view of the pool’s view of the island’s view of the ocean. It’s like a Russian nesting doll of vacation one-upmanship.
“If my family had a house like this, I’d live here. Between a Manhattan penthouse and this paradise, I’d choose St. Bart’s, one hundred percent.”
Marco grins at me. I can’t believe that we are getting to stay here for three full days.
While Billy Bob is still the annoying, vapid narcissist he’s always been, he has softened somewhat toward Marco. We were still both shocked when Billy Bob suggested that we use his family’s airplane and vacation home for a Valentine’s Day getaway.
Granted, it’s actually March, because Valentine’s Day is massively busy at the restaurant and I worked my ass off so that I could afford to take this time off.
I also think it’s a good thing Billy Bob doesn’t know that I call him that. I almost slipped the first time I met him.
Billy Bob did pass along the information about Greg to Ishimoto, who fired him. We haven’t seen or heard from Greg since then. And Billy Bob insisted on meeting me, since I was at least somewhat “responsible” for Greg getting fired and a witness to Ash’s firing.
I’d never met a billionaire before. It was underwhelming.
But here I am, on a romantic vacation with the love of my life.
The pool has a bunch of lounge chairs with rolled-up bright red beach towels perched on the cushions, and I can’t wait to sit down and relax and read a book, for once in my life.
Marco finishes giving me the tour—he’s been here twice before—and that includes meeting the chef who’s going to cook for us. I change into my bathing suit and ask Marco to slather sunscreen on my back.
I hold out my arms. “I’m going to be covered in freckles by the end of the trip. No, by the end of the day.”
“I’ll lick each and every one of them,” Marco growls.
I grab my book and wander through the house—which is unobjectionally beautiful because it’s a mansion in the Caribbean but also kind of ugly because someone decided glass chandeliers and a black-and-white theme were the way to go—out to the pool.
It’s fifteen minutes before Marco joins me—a suspiciously long amount of time. I’m not sure what exactly he’s up to, but I got a big hint last week when I was putting our laundry away and found a small velvet box.
Now he’s carrying a platter of fruit and two frozen cocktails. At Marco’s request, the chef had prepared snacks and an easy dinner for our first night, which means we are now by ourselves.
Even though I’m now ten months away from being debt-free, I still don’t feel like an adult that can be trusted with a multimillion-dollar house. It comes with a golf cart, and that alone could be complete mayhem.
I’ll let Marco drive.
He settles next to me on the lounge chair under the umbrella and we toast. The daiquiri is perfect—more fruity than sweet and ice cold, which feels great because it’s eighty-five degrees out.
“When we left the city it was forty-two degrees,” I marvel. Bea had texted us “Bon voyage” when our flight took off with a winter storm on its tail. Later, she sent a picture of the street outside Charlie’s place covered with swirling snow.
It’s pretty much their place now, since Bea spends more time there than at our place. And our place is officially going to become “ours” next month, when Bea moves out for good.
I read for a while, a romantasy I saw on TikTok ages ago and never got around to starting. Next to me, Marco relaxes so hard, he might be asleep.
Which is why I’m startled when out of nowhere he says, “You know what I’m thinking about?”
“Dragons raised from the dead and threesomes in front of a fireplace?”
