Freedom
SLADE
Ipull back and look at her, running through possibilities. Something at work. Something with her family.
Something I did?
“What’s the matter?” I ask. “Did something go wrong at the install?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Her voice is light. Too light. “I just got done early and Sadie texted to invite me out here.” Her gaze flickers over my shoulder. Just briefly. “I see you met the actresses.”
“Yeah. Listen, Rafe was just here and he thinks—”
“They’re gorgeous,” Lila blurts.
I stop, confused by the two different conversations we seem to be having.
“They did that movie together,” she says, not quite looking at me. “That huge hit thriller where they have a threesome with the other guy? It was everywhere.”
“Never heard of it.” I try again. “Lila, you should know—”
“I don’t want to get in the way.” The words come out carefully, like she’s been holding them in the whole walk over to me. “If you met someone you’re interested in. For real.”
I stare at her.
“We can dissolve this at any time,” she says. Her voice is steady but her hands aren’t. She’s worrying the strap of her bag. “I don’t care about the money. I don’t care if my family tries to claw it back. If this marriage stops being convenient, if you want a divorce—”
“A divorce?” I repeat, astonished.
What the hell is happening right now?
“You know. If you want your freedom.” Her gaze goes back to the actresses.
It starts to get through my thick skull.
Did she think I was flirting back? Is that what she saw from across the field? I was trying to get away from those women as fast as I could while dealing with a dog with a malfunctioning prosthetic and a bad shoulder. And I still managed to look like I was interested?
Shit. I’m bad at this. I’ve always been bad at relationships. I don’t say the right things, I don’t show enough, I keep too much locked down because that’s the only way I know how to operate.
“You could have your pick,” she says, boots tracing an arc in the dirt. “You could have any woman you wanted. And I want you to be happy.”
I look at her. The uncertain set of her mouth. The way she’s not quite meeting my eyes. The careful, controlled way she’s holding herself together while she offers to dissolve our marriage with her voice barely steady.
Have I fucked up that badly?
“You think I want… freedom?” I say. “From you?”
That sounds like the further thing from happiness in the world.
She bites her lip. “They’re gorgeous,” she blurts.
“Like, professionally beautiful. And willing. They were all over you. It was like that wedding ring you’re wearing wasn’t even there.
Or worse, like that wedding ring was a beacon.
Like, the fact that you’re married makes you even more attractive to them. ”
Yeah, okay, she’s jealous.
The cold in my chest dissolves immediately. Because jealous I can work with. Jealous means she cares. Jealous means these deep, complicated, intense feelings I’m having for my wife aren’t one-sided.
And jealous means I’ve failed to make her feel certain of me, which is something I can fix right now.
“Lila.” I step closer. “Baby, look at me.”
Her long lashes lift as her gaze meets mine. I cup her cheek. “Those vows we said to each other, I live by every single word. We’re married, sweetheart.”
“But not for real.”
I frown. “There’s a marriage certificate in our safe that says otherwise.”
I keep it next to the guns and gold bars and the Patek Philippe watch I got myself as a gift after the first Stanley Cup.
As far as I’m concerned, our marriage certificate is more precious than everything else in that safe combined.
“You know what I mean,” Lila says. “Of course, we started having sex and that makes things more complicated, or maybe it doesn’t, not for you, but—”
I kiss her.
She makes a small surprised sound against my mouth and then her hands find my chest and she stops arguing, which is exactly what I wanted but didn’t know how to accomplish with words.
I wrap one arm around her waist and pull her in until there’s no space left between us, and she melts into me the way she always does, like she was made to fit there.
My other hand slides into her hair and tugs gently, tipping her head back. She sighs and opens for me and I take my time with it, savoring the feel of her lips against mine. When I finally pull back she’s flushed and her eyes flutter open slowly.
I press another kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get something straight.
You’re my wife. You’re the only woman I have eyes for.
The only woman in the world I want.” I put her left hand against mine, my hand rough and tanned against her smooth skin and manicured fingers.
Our wedding rings clink together. “These rings here mean I’m yours. And you, sweetheart? You’re all mine.”
Her eyes go shiny and then she kisses me again.
From somewhere behind me I hear the quiet whir of a camera. I glance back. Sure enough, one of the crew has the lens trained on us, and the set photographer is already scrolling through what he got.
Good. Let them film it. Let there be evidence. As far as the world is concerned, as far as her family is concerned, this is exactly what it looks like: a husband holding his wife like she’s the most important thing in the world.
Which, if I’m being honest with myself, is exactly what it is.
She searches my face for a long moment, like she’s looking for the catch.
“Okay,” she says softly. “But if you want that to change—”
“I won’t.” I tuck a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “Now. Can I tell you what is changing?”
She blinks. “What?”
I look down at Lucky, who’s been sitting patiently at my feet this whole time, wet nose pressed into my thigh.
“Our dog is pregnant.”
Lila’s mouth drops open. She looks down at Lucky, who wags her tail happily.
“How do you know?” Lila asks.
“Rafe, of course. He’s the first to know everything.”
“We should get her an ultrasound,” she says immediately, already crouching down to take Lucky’s face in her hands. “Make sure everything’s okay. I’ll call the vet tomorrow.” She’s stroking Lucky’s ears now, murmuring something soft to her. Lucky leans into it with her whole body, shameless.
Lila looks up at me.
There’s a small smile on her face.
“Slade. You said our dog.” The smile widens. “Not the dog. Our dog.”
For someone who’s avoided attachments his whole life, I seem to be collecting some pretty permanent ones lately. I sigh heavily and scrub a hand across my jaw.
Puppies.
Because apparently the universe decided one dog wasn’t enough.
“The dog is having puppies,” I correct pointedly.
Lila’s smile goes full and warm and a little bit dangerous.
“Too late,” she whispers. “You already said ‘our’ dog.”
“Slip of the tongue,” I mumble.
“I think you’re gonna keep her, Slade.”
I want to keep you, I think. Forever.
She grabs my jacket and pulls me down to her.
Her mouth is warm and she tastes like cinnamon and she kisses me with her whole body, her fist in my collar, her other hand sliding up the back of my neck into my hair. My hands find her waist and pull her flush against me.
I want to take her home and get her in our bed and I need to do it right now.
I pull back, take her hand, and start dragging her in a very un-gentlemanly way back towards my truck as she’s laughing, half-running to keep up with me. “Slade, where are we going?”
“Home.”
“It’s the middle of your work day! And I just got here!”
“Film crew will be here all week,” I say, holding the door of the vehicle open for her before she climbs in. “You kiss me like that again, Mrs. Rhodes, you’re lucky I don’t fuck you in this truck.”
She waits until we pull up to our house.
Then she unbuckles her seatbelt.
And she kisses me like that again.
It’s awhile before we make it out of the truck.