Chapter 17
Seventeen
Zoey
“ I can’t believe it’s the last day of the vacation,” I mumble from my side of the daybed, turning to Zara, who sits up. “Where are you going?”
“In the water.” She points at the ocean. “The kids are finally out.” She looks over to see the little kids all in the sand, building something or another. “Let’s go.”
“Okay.” I get up, looking around to see if I spot Nash. He went off with Caine not long ago, and now I see him sitting with my father. I have to wonder if he’s there because he wants to be there or because he has no choice.
I follow Zara, the soft waves hitting my legs as I walk deeper into the water. “I’m going to miss this.”
“You’ve been drunk for two weeks,” I remind her, and she shakes her head.
“I’ve not once gone to bed drunk.” She holds up her hand, smiling. “It’s called day drinking, and it’s about moderation, Zoey.”
I laugh and duck myself into the warm water. “Why didn’t Daniel come?” I ask about her fiancé.
“He couldn’t get off work,” she says. “He’s been working on this huge deal for two months now.” I look at her. “Anyway, let’s talk about something more interesting than me. Let’s talk about the hubby.” She avoids talking about Daniel this time, and I let it go. Since she is wearing her glasses, I can’t even see if something is bothering her. “What’s going on with that?”
“Nothing.” I extend my hands to the sides, moving them in the water. “I’m going to move in with him for thirty days and see how I like it.”
“But how are things at this minute? Like, do you like him?”
“We’re on vacation,” I point out.
She throws her head back and laughs. “It’s your honeymoon.”
“Whatever it is. Of course things are good. Everything is chill. We drink, we eat, we laugh.”
“You have amazing sex. Best sex in your whole—” she adds to my list, and I splash her with water.
“I told you that in confidence,” I hiss at her, and she just laughs it off.
“But that’s the thing.” My voice comes out softly. “It’s almost too perfect. Like he’s saying the right things, doing the right things.”
“You mean doing you the right way.”
“That, like it can’t be all good all the time.”
“Why not?” she asks, and I just look at her.
“I mean, look at our parents or anyone from our family. They pretty much have the best relationships. I’m sure they argue, but it’s meaningless. I think most of them argue just to have makeup sex.”
“Can we never put our parents and sex in the same sentence?” I fake gag. “Please.”
“What I’m saying is, maybe he’s that perfect. Maybe everything is going fine because he’s your person. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who is all that and a big dick.” She smirks and stands up. “Maybe you should be thanking your past drunken self for your present and future sore-vagina self.”
It's my turn to laugh, and while I’m laughing, I spot Nash walking into the water. “Hey, you two.” He comes right to me, bending to kiss my lips. “What are you talking about?”
“Your big dick and her moving to LA.” If I could kill her, I think I would. I look at Nash to see if he’s going to be pissed about what she just said, but instead, he shakes his head and wraps his arms around my waist before bending his legs and pulling me onto his lap.
“Sounds like I missed a good conversation, then,” he replies as I wrap an arm around his shoulders.
“I mean, she did say you’re selfish and always come before her,” Zara deadpans, and I splash her with water.
“What? I’m trying to help you. He’s probably going to go all caveman on you and make sure you have all the orgasms you can handle. We’ll probably have to wheel you to the plane tomorrow.” She gets up out of the water, turning to walk to the shore. “You’re welcome. Now I have two hours before day drinking ends, so if you two lovebirds will excuse me, I have a drink to find.”
We both watch her walk out of the water and hold up her hand for a drink. “Your cousin is a nut,” Nash says. “Did you really talk about my big dick?”
I look at him. “Yes, and also your selfish ways. Funny how you didn’t bring that up.” He turns me so I’m straddling him.
“Baby,” he murmurs, kissing my neck, “we both know it’s almost three to one with us.”
“Yes, because you’re selfish and won’t let me come when I want to come.” I avoid looking at him, not even telling him that since we’ve been together—and he’s been pushing me to hold out longer—my orgasms have been earth-shattering. There are things he needs to know and that is not one of them. “See? Selfish.”
“I’ll take it,” he says, nuzzling my neck.
“What were you talking about with my father?” I ask him, and he stops nuzzling.
“You know, just the regular. The weather, the stock market, and if I break your heart, he’s going to break my face.” I gasp. “I mean, he didn’t say it in those words.” He laughs. “Actually, he said it exactly in those words.”
“What did you tell him?” I ask, holding my breath.
“I told him that if anyone is going to break anyone’s heart, it’ll be you breaking mine.” I don’t know why, but the way he says it makes my heart hurt. “Then he laughed and said probably, but he’s okay with that.”
“That sounds about right.” I try not to let his words get to me, nor do I want to think about how his words have hit me right where it hurts. Instead, I wrap my arms around him and lay my head on his shoulder as we sit in the warm water.
I walk up the steps to the plane, smiling at the flight attendant waiting for us. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Griffin,” he greets, and it always shocks me when I’m called that.
“Good afternoon,” I say, walking in and putting my bag in one of the seats, turning to see Nash enter the plane and give the man a chin up before walking and dumping his own bag in the same seat as mine.
“We will be off as soon as the bags are stowed,” he says.
“Where do you want to sit?” Nash asks me as he pulls me to his side. My hands go on his blue button-down shirt that is again open at the top of his chest. “I’m going to go to the bathroom before we take off,” he states and then leans in to whisper in my ear. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes, wait for me in there.” I kiss the hinge of his jaw before he laughs and walks away.
I sit in the chair, knowing once he comes back, he will sit in the chair right next to me instead of sitting in the one in front of me. I take out my phone and open my Instagram, showing me I was tagged in a couple of pictures from Grace. One of them is the four of us last night. Nash stands behind me with his one arm wrapped around the top of my chest. My arm is folded up and linked with his dangling fingers, while his other hand is around my waist, trying to grab my other hand. My head is turned to the side, smiling at him, while he grins back at me. It was right before he leaned in and kissed me. My eyes only look at the two of us before I double tap it and write a heart comment.
“I knew you weren’t coming,” Nash huffs when he slides into the seat beside me. “I even waited.”
I look over at him. “Too bad you didn’t hold your breath. It would have been a very bad flight.” I turn the phone toward him. “Did you see this picture?”
“I did.” He takes out his own phone, and I see our wedding picture is his screen saver, and then shows me his Instagram where I see he’s cropped Caine and Grace out. “Caine even wrote a comment,” he says, and I grab his phone to read it. “You forgot to tag my hand that’s cut off, dick.” That makes me laugh. “I want to get it framed.”
“Okay,” I tell him as the plane takes off. It takes us ten minutes before he gets up and pulls me out of the chair to go sit on the couch. I go through my emails quickly when he lunges, putting his head in my lap. “Comfy?”
“I’d be more comfy if you took off your shirt and I could sleep on your tits, but this will do.” My hand comes down to play with his hair as I scroll through my to-do list and add a couple of things. When I look down, he’s asleep, and I refuse to move to wake him up. He wakes up three hours later, looking up at me. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I tell him.
“Are you watching cat videos?” he questions, annoying me that he knows what I’m doing.
“No.” I turn the phone off. “We are landing any second,” I tell him.
He reaches around my head, pulling me down to him. “Kiss me, baby.” Here in the middle of the private plane, while we are landing, I kiss him.
I’m exhausted by the time we get in the car and are on the way to his house. “Tired?” he asks, and I nod. “We’ll get you home and fed and then you can go to bed.” He looks over at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?” I ask.
“I was just thinking that maybe you might miss your family.” I turn my head to look at this fucking man. Never, and I mean never, in my life has someone taken the time to think about how I feel. I mean, sure, my family, but not a man in this universe has gone to that extent.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my voice when I feel it fill with a golf ball, “but I’m okay.”
“Maybe we can invite Zara to come out here for a week,” he suggests. I look out the window instead of to him, the tears filling my eyes, making it hard to see. “See if she’s free.”
“Okay,” I reply, hoping like fuck my voice doesn’t crack. He doesn’t say anything else as we make our way over to his house. We go through a wrought-iron gate when he puts in a code and then turns down the street toward his house.
He slows down and turns into a driveway, and I finally get a look at his house. The lights from inside illuminate the outside. He stops the car, and I get out to take a better look. There are two double-car garage doors. He opens the trunk and takes the bags to the front door. The house looks like it’s all windows in the front, but you can’t see in. You can only see the illumination from the lights. Even the front door looks like it’s all glass all the way to the roof.
“Shall we?” He holds out his hand, smiling at me, and I know he’s probably nervous I won’t like his house. I walk with him up the driveway to the front door, going up the three steps. He stops at the door and enters the code before turning to me, grabbing me around my waist, and picking me up.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“I’m carrying you over the threshold,” he declares, kicking open the door with his foot. I can’t help but laugh as he takes a step into his house. “Welcome home, Zoey.”