32. The Soulmate War
THE SOULMATE WAR
WILLOW
“F inding a perfect soulmate through a website? That sounds like the corniest clickbait I’ve heard in a long time.” Alex doesn’t bother masking his disapproval as his glare locks on to Vincent Belmont—the man lounging across from him with effortless swagger.
The dim lights in the pergola catch the glint of his eyebrow piercing, while colorful tattoos peek from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his crisp white button-down. Vincent doesn’t look and act like a tech mogul. No, he looks like a rock star who decided to dip his toes into the business world just for fun.
If we can ignore the tension crackling like a downed power line between these two men, Quill’s birthday party has been a huge success. Most of the guests have already trickled out—the kids from Quill’s school, Ray’s parents and extended family, my mom and nana.
Now it’s just Raymond’s cousins. The only two outsiders not related by blood or marriage are me and Chloe’s plus-one, Vincent Belmont.
“Every good business idea has a couple of haters, Mr. Teager,” Vincent replies smoothly, unfazed by the heat coming off Alex like a burning furnace. He flashes an easy grin, looking at Chloe. “What do you think, babe?”
“Absolutely.” Chloe lays a hand on Vincent’s forearm, like she’s making a point.
I meet Daisy’s gaze across the table, my eyebrows practically shouting, What the hell is happening here?
Because as much as Chloe is acting like she’s about to jump on Vincent’s lap any second and give him a lap dance in front of her brother and cousins, her face says something else. She isn’t interested in the man that way. Their dynamic is too easy, too familiar. If I had to guess, they’re best friends—the kind who share an almost sibling-like bond. Yet the whole act is enough to rattle the usually calm, composed Alex Teager.
“You’d be surprised how many people struggle to connect with a potential partner in today’s world,” Vincent continues, his voice filled with genuine passion for a change. “With our app, we will give them a chance to take the relationship as slow or as fast as they’d like. Instead of throwing out a bunch of half-assed match percentages, we will only connect them when there’s a hundred percent chance of compatibility. From there, they can decide how they want to communicate—text, email, phone calls, even handwritten letters. We promise to maintain complete anonymity until both parties feel ready to reveal their identities. They will progress at their own pace—dating, engagement, marriage—and we will support them till the end. Our team of counselors and relationship therapists will be deeply involved to help them navigate this unusual journey.”
“Wow, that sounds…” I mumble.
“Amazing, right?” Chloe practically bounces in her seat.
I nod. “It really is. You take away all the stressful parts of dating.”
Vincent tilts his head to the side. “If you’re interested?—”
His words are cut off by a low growl from beside me. Raymond’s arm drapes over my shoulders, his body heat curling around me like a claim. “You don’t see my engagement ring on her finger? Or my sleeping daughter’s head in her lap?”
At his words, I glance down at Quill, sprawled across the bench, bundled up in her yellow comforter, her cheek pressed against my side. Every time I tried to carry her inside to bed, she shook her head, stubbornly wanting to remain glued to me, exactly like her dad.
Raymond hasn’t left my side all day. At first, I thought it was for appearances, keeping up the ruse of our fake relationship. But now, everyone at the table except Vincent knows the truth about us, and still, he hasn’t let me go. His hand either finds mine under the table or he’s running his big palm over my arms or squeezing my waist. His touches are innocent but powerful enough that they rattle my core. They make me feel like I belong here.
It’s just an arrangement, Wills. An arrangement so perfect you’re mistaking it for reality, and that’s the stupidest thing you could ever do.
My dear friends fear and panic decide to pay me a visit at the worst time.
I feel a sudden need for air and lots of space.
“Um…sorry. I need to check on something.” I gently shift, easing Quill’s head onto a throw pillow. She stirs, her tiny fingers curling into the blanket, but thankfully, she doesn’t wake.
I don’t look at anyone—not Daisy, and definitely not Ray. Instead, I slip inside the house without any further words.
The kitchen is quiet, the air cool against my overheated skin. I press my palms on the counter and try to take slow, even breaths, in, out, in, out. That’s when my gaze snags on the plate of leftover birthday cake, the one Ray and I baked together last night. My stomach tightens as memories of the last twenty-four hours flood my mind. His touch. His words.
I wish that every year on my daughter’s birthday, you and I will bake a cake for her after we put her to bed.
I wish that when I’m in the shower, you’re with me. I’m pounding into you hard, making you forget all your anxieties about how perfect everything will be the next day.
Then, I’ll bring you here, every year, under the stars, where we’ll wish upon a shooting star before I take you again, slow and deep.
My eyes squeeze shut until the sound of incoming footsteps I recognize so well makes me jump.
“Ray—” I start, turning, but he’s already here, his body pressing close against mine.
“Why did you run like that?” He wraps his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.
I don’t have a response. Okay, that’s not exactly true, but the response I have is tangled in knots of wants and fears, impossible to say out loud.
Raymond sighs, then turns me in his arms, cradling my face. “Last night, you said if the idea of soulmates is real, you’d want me to be yours.” His thumb brushes over my cheek as he replays my words that were said in the spur of the moment. “Are you telling me now that you’re sold on Vincent fucking Belmont’s pitch to try his app and forget your words?”
I blink. “I think everyone at that table was hypnotized by the promise, but no one is crazy enough to get their hopes up like that and try that app, Ray.”
“You’d be surprised.” His lips twitch, his grip tightening slightly on my waist. “We’re going to have one very serious participant from the family, and when this bullshit app crushes my cousin’s heart, I’d love to team up with Alex and destroy Vincent.”
I’m momentarily shocked by his casual tone as it relays such spiteful words. “You don’t like Vincent, do you?”
Raymond shrugs. “He’s here to stir up shit. Chloe’s crazy, but he should know better. Belmonts and Teagers have been in business together for years. Do you know my mom’s business, Cakes for All, was just a bakery owned by Vincent’s dad? Cole Belmont was also in the hotel business before they moved back to France. But now the next generation of Belmonts has decided to relocate. Vincent is an idiot if he thinks making a rival like Alex is a good idea.”
I bite my lip. “Maybe he’s just being a good friend to Chloe.”
Ray’s forehead furrows. “I don’t like you taking his side.”
I can’t help the curl of my lips. “I’m taking Chloe’s side.” My tongue flicks over my dry lips. “So…Alex and Chloe?”
He exhales a heavy sigh. “Either they will end up together, living the best life, or killing each other if Chloe keeps doing shit like this to test Alex’s patience.” Ray tips his head to the side, looking at me carefully. “But I didn’t come here to talk about my cousins.”
His thumb glides over my bottom lip, and my eyes flutter closed. His lips touch mine, just barely. Over time, I’ve realized Raymond loves to start slow. He enjoys making me crazy in whatever the hell we’re doing. Business. Kissing. Loving.
Did I just use the L-word?
Thankfully, he presses his lips against mine hard, invading my thoughts. My hands tighten around his waist while he tugs on my French braid that he did this morning after Quill’s. He ravishes my lips before sliding his tongue into my mouth, and I’m lost in this man once again.
A loud crash breaks the moment, which is charged with enough electricity to power the whole house, and we jump apart. My head snaps toward the kitchen entrance to find Daisy, her very pregnant belly looking like she could pop at any second.
Crap!
She’s holding a plate of cake, though the cutlery has clearly taken a tumble to the floor. But she isn’t looking at the mess. No, she’s staring straight at us with a grin so wide it might actually split her face in two.
“Oh my God, I knew it!” she squeals, her voice practically bouncing off the walls as she waddles toward us penguin-style.
Yes, I know she’ll probably murder me for comparing her to a penguin, but the visual is too accurate to ignore.
“Daze, don’t,” I plead, holding my hands up like a crossing guard. But my best friend is on a roll.
“I knew that if you two would pull your heads out of your asses and look past your ridiculous feud, you’d see how perfect you are for each other! And honestly, the whole fake relationship thing never works with these Elixir men.” Daisy jabs a finger in Ray’s direction as if delivering some cosmic truth.
I glance at the man who has suddenly decided to be of no help, just standing beside me with his arms crossed over his chest.
Daisy, on the other hand, is a whirlwind of excitement. “I need to tell Charles. He’s going to flip when he hears—” She stops mid-sentence as her eyes widen, darting down toward the floor before snapping back up to meet mine. “Holy crap! Wills, call Charles!” she yells, her hands flying everywhere.
“Raymond and I being together is not that big of a deal, Daze. You need?—”
“It’s huge, Wills!” she interrupts me, grabbing my hands tightly, her grip bordering on desperate. “But it’s not that, dammit!” she yells. “My water broke!”
It takes a heartbeat—one single brain-short-circuiting heartbeat—for her words to register. My gaze drops to the floor, where, sure enough, there’s a small puddle forming at her feet.
Holy. Freaking. Crap.
“Your baby might share their birthday with Quill, Daze!” I squeal, as that’s the first thought that runs through my mind.
“Damn,” Ray mutters.
“You two,” Daisy yelps, “get me to Charles so my baby can finally make its grand entrance!”