Page 119 of Wild Love
“You look beautiful and really happy.” Ginny tilts her head and lays it on my shoulder. “Are you sure you two can’t work it out?”
“And then what? He’s there. I’m here.”
“But you’re married,” Reagan whines.
“Oooooh. The white blinged-out Chucks make sense now!”
“And wait, this is your wedding ring?” Ginny touches the red hair tie.
“It was a whole thing,” I say, blushing as I recall a hazy memory of him fucking me against the window of our Vegas suite, my wrists bound by the flimsy elastic.
“Do you love him?” Reagan asks.
I stare at my hands and nod. “I do. I really, really do.”
39
Johnny
If I hadit my way, I would have left to win Dakota back days ago, but Blythe has filled my schedule with media and promotions, so instead, I spend the week fulfilling obligations, moving anything scheduled the following week, and planning. I’ve never planned so much in my life. I think I have a real knack for it, though.
So far, I’ve sent flowers, chocolates, balloons, gifts that somehow reminded me of her, and approximately one million photos of Charli and me with accompanyingI’m so sorry, please forgive metexts.
Dakota hasn’t responded to any of them, but I didn’t expect her to. I fucked up bad. A few gifts aren’t going to make her forget that. Besides, we need to hash this out in person. The gifts and texts are just to make sure she knows how sorry I am.
Saturday morning, I wake up to knocking on the door and someone yelling on the other side.
“Nobody’s home,” I yell and roll over. I’ve slept on this awful pink couch every night just to feel closer to her. I’ve probably jacked up my back permanently. It’s so uncomfortable.
“Open the door,Maverick.”
I still, the disdain and amusement drip off his deep baritone, and recognition dawns. My pulse races, and I sit up. Charli, the traitor, jogs to the door and actually looks happy as I open it for Dakota’s dad.
“Hi, Jerry. Good to see you, sir.” I run a hand over my bed head and sneak a glance back at the messy apartment.
“You’re missing a shirt,” he muses and steps inside.
“Uh, come in. Dakota’s not here.”
“No kidding.” He looks around the place while I find my T-shirt and pull it on. He zeroes right in on the empty liquor bottles in the kitchen.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” I say.
“Clearly.”
“What are you doing here?” I toss a bunch of empty take-out containers and bottles into the trash.
“I came to get her furniture.”
“Oh.” I nod. “I would have gotten it back to her.”
He wastes no time finding her room and taking the nightstand out first. He’s got old man, freaky-strong muscles, the kind that have been developed over a lot of years of constant use, but I remember how his back hurt him last time, and I jump in.
He lets me, wordlessly, and together we load up her furniture in the trailer attached to his truck. I step back on the curb, hands in my pocket. It feels so final now. I always knew she had to go back for school, but I guess maybe I hoped that was the temporary thing and not us.
“Dakota told me what you did,” Jerry says, and my heart drops to my stomach. “How you got her the internship and the endorsement contract.”
“Oh.” I guess of all the things she could have told her dad that I did, that’s the safest one. “She deserved it. She’s a hard worker and so smart.”
