33. Ava
THIRTY-THREE
AVA
Soft lips press against my neck, then drag down my back, and I feel the light peppering of kisses continue until I’m blinking awake, wondering if I’m dreaming. When I finally focus, I find Tyler, eyes on me, lips pressed to my wrist—or more precisely, to the scars that mar my skin there.
“What are you doing?” My voice comes out raspy with sleep, but somehow I find myself smiling.
Even after the heavy conversation of last night, I feel lighter than I have in a long time. Maybe it’s because Tyler seems to get it. He gets me. We both suffered some awful things at young ages, and he’s a more empathetic person because of it.
He also may just be the kindest, most warm-hearted man I’ve ever met, because right now it feels like he’s trying to kiss every hurt better.
Obviously, the scars have more than healed, but the emotional toll they left on me—the hiding I’ve done—is still there, and he’s altering those ugly memories and the scars with his lips.
Changing the meaning behind them. Making me feel beautiful and strong and loved.
“Kissing my wife good morning.” His answer is lazy and slow, but his lips curve up in the corners, letting me know he’s once again in a teasing mood.
I love that about him. That he’s not going to force me to talk about it.
He opens the door for me to give him more but also gives me an out if I’m not ready.
I’m not ready. I hope one day I will be. It feels less daunting—life, the scars, the memories—now that I have him and our kids.
Our kids. That part really makes me smile.
I never thought I’d have this. A family. I was always too scared to get close to anyone else for fear of losing them, but with each of our kids it was barely a choice. I fell almost immediately. And with Tyler…well, it’s clear I’m falling.
“You missed a few spots,” I tell him.
Blue eyes bounce in surprise. “Oh, yeah?” He tries to wiggle down my body.
Laughing, I yank him up. “I meant up here, you goober.” I purse my lips exaggeratedly, waiting for a kiss.
Of course, Tyler can never do anything simply.
Just a peck of the lips isn’t enough for him.
He slides up my body and frames my face with those large hands.
Then, once he’s got complete control and I’m stuttering for breath as I literally wait for his lips to touch mine, he smirks.
“I like waking up with you, Vicious. Love having you in my bed. Love holding you close all night. But mostly I love being able to kiss you whenever I want.”
He doesn’t wait for me to reply, not that I could come up with a single word that could express how this man makes me feel when he’s so honest with me.
Tyler goes all-in on the kiss. Every time our mouths meet, I swear it’s like a shot of lust straight to my veins.
His kisses are mind-altering. The minute his lips touch mine, I go hazy and pliable.
I melt against him with each swipe of his tongue until I feel my hips undulating against his, begging for even more attention.
He pulls back, leaving me reaching for him, and with a chuckle, he presses another kiss to my chin, then my cheek, then the tip of my nose, right beside my lips.
I let out a needy growl, wanting his damn mouth back where it was and our bodies connected.
“Sorry, wifey. I have to get to morning skate.”
There’s no stopping the sad whine that escapes me. “You’re such a tease.”
“How about lunch with my bride?”
I shrug, trying to act nonchalant, even as I want to swoon over that nickname. Bride. I didn’t feel like much of one when we got married, and yet the word still gives me butterflies. What is this man doing to me?
“I’ll have to check my schedule.”
Tyler hovers above me, that cocksure smirk on his face now. “It’s my birthday, wifey. You can’t make me eat alone.”
“It’s your birthday?”
His lips curve wider. “Yup.”
I push against his chest, but he barely sways. “Jerk. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He starts laughing. “You can’t call me a jerk on my birthday.”
“You can’t not tell your wife it’s your birthday. I need to get you a present.”
Tyler’s eyes dance. “I can think of a few presents you can give me later.”
I roll my eyes. “How about we go out tonight? I’ll make a reservation. What’s your favorite restaurant?” I wince as I realize these are things I should know about my husband already.
He sighs and rolls off me, his head landing on his pillow, his focus going to the ceiling. “I told my father we’d do dinner with him and Dory. They’re coming here.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
Tyler rolls his head so he’s looking at me again. “My father reached out. He hasn’t always been the best dad, but yeah, I’d like to spend my birthday with him.”
This man is incredible. Despite all the ways his father and Dory have let him down, he’s still seeking out the family he’s always wanted.
I vow in that moment to do everything I can to give it to him.
Hopefully his father is on board, but even if he’s not, he’ll get that same kind of devotion from me for as long as I’m around. “Okay.”
“So will you meet me for lunch?” He’s back to smiling again.
“Yeah, I think I can make room in my schedule for my groom.”
“I can’t believe this is your favorite lunch spot.”
Tyler holds a giant slice of pizza in front of him and folds it in half, then takes an oversized bite. Chewing, he shrugs. “It’s not so much the place. I just love pizza.”
“Most people do.” I knock my shoulder against his as we sit at the counter.
The place is a little hole in the wall, and it’s not fancy in the least, but when Tyler stepped inside, the man behind the counter set out two white paper place settings near one end, then embraced Tyler and welcomed him back.
“What else do you love?” I ask, holding up my own piece of pizza.
After last night, it might seem like I’m fishing for a compliment, but I’m genuinely curious.
For so long, I made assumptions about Tyler, and now that I’ve discovered how wrong I was, I want to know him.
“Other than hockey,” I tack on, infusing a bit of sauciness in my tone, hoping to convey to him that I’m not looking for an intimate conversation at the moment.
Tyler doesn’t disappoint. “Surfing, boxing. Any sport that has me outside and moving my muscles, really. I also love serial killer documentaries.”
A snort escapes me before I can stop it.
Tyler pokes my arm. “You asked.”
“It makes sense, I guess. Why you love it when I’m mean to you.”
Surveying me, he lifts a shoulder. “I do love how vicious my wife is. Female serial killers could be hot.”
“Tyler,” I hiss.
He chuckles. “I mean the fictional kind. I’m sure Lennox has read a book or two that revolve around a female main character with a penchant for murder.”
I shrug. He’s not wrong. “Do you read?”
“You’re cute when you play dumb. I know you’ve been in my office.”
The reminder of the night the girls and I snooped and I discovered the bookshelves full of all kinds of genres has me leaning in. “What types of books do you like best?”
Smirking, he wipes a little sauce from his lip. “Want me to read you a bedtime story later, wifey?”
I love this. Love bantering with him. Love sitting with him and smiling. God, I love being with him period. Even if we’re just sitting in the corner of a tiny dive, eating semi-decent pizza, it’s one of the best afternoons I’ve had in a long time.
I hold out my hand. “Pinky promise?”
That smirk turns into a full-on grin as he hooks my pinky with his and presses his lips to my finger. “Pinky promise.”
Hannah taps her fingers against her phone screen with so much force I worry she’ll break it.
“You okay over there?” Lennox asks, her gaze bouncing between Hannah and me.
We’re seated in my office, going over last-minute details for the charity gala next week.
The event will be held in the ballroom on the top of the Langfield Corp building.
Since we are the venue, and we typically ask the venue to handle catering and serving, the location means even more work for us than usual.
Thank god for Lennox and her amazing attention to detail.
I’m happy to rub elbows with donors and convince them to part with money they won’t even miss, but picking out linens and flowers has never been my thing.
Lennox is much more equipped to handle all that, along with who’s who in Boston at the moment—and should be added to the guest list—and which musicians are hot right now since her family practically owns every industry in this city not already claimed by the Langfields.
Scoffing, Hannah drops her phone into her purse, then lifts her blue eyes to me.
Even as she swears all is fine, I can read my best friend well.
Something is very wrong. But if there’s one thing I know about Hannah, it’s that there is no way to pry even a single word out of her when she shuts down like this.
“Outside of making sure the boys are on their best behavior, is there anything else you need from me?”
“I think we’ve got everything covered.” Lennox’s eyes light up, and she leans forward. “Did I tell you that Jake Keepers agreed to make an appearance?”
“Who’s Jake Keepers?” Sara asks, appearing in the doorway. She makes herself comfortable against the wall, iPad pulled against her chest, blue hair recently redone and pulled back in a ponytail.
Lennox swings her pink hair over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. “The next big thing.”
We all laugh at her flair for the dramatics.
“Seriously. He’s got an album dropping next month, but his first single comes out tomorrow. With the buzz we’ll create announcing he’ll be in attendance this weekend, donors will be clamoring for last-minute invites.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’ve done all the heavy lifting when it comes to your job and mine?” I tease.
She smiles. “I still need you, snookums.”
“Yes,” Sara agrees. “You make us look good.”