Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
PRESLEY
I should be reviewing the menu my mom just sent over to approve for the wedding. Instead, I’m staring at my husband’s face right in the center of a celebrity gossip page.
Creed Family Drama! Newest member clashes with paparazzi at father-in-law’s award gala!
On the bright side, he looks incredibly hot. That black tux he wore fit him like a dream, and the fierce look in his eyes? Well, let’s just say the comment section is less about the headline and more about my husband’s broad shoulders and chiseled jaw.
Seeing lewd comments about Hollis would usually make me livid, but in this case, it works in our favor.
This paparazzo who confronted me at the gala wanted to sell a story. When we got home, we contacted our digital intel guy. After some digging, he discovered a link between the pap and Jace. They used to be roommates.
“Still looking at that, huh?” Hollis walks up behind the couch and catches me with my computer resting on my lap.
“Just checking out the comments again,” I tell him, before tossing a grin over my shoulder. “And you, of course.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that good of a picture.”
I scroll down and down. “Hundreds of thousands of commenters would disagree with you.”
“Hundreds of…” He shakes his head. “People need better things to do.”
“Well, those people are doing what some in the industry pay a fortune for. They’re killing a story before it even begins—all because they’re distracted by my superhot husband.”
“Well, it’s not like the story had any merit to begin with. Jace might have reached out to his former roommate about selling the video, but the guy turned him down.”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “Because Jace is an idiot. You don’t go to paps to sell that kind of stuff. They sell it to you.”
“Too bad the pap decided to use the info to cause a scene.”
I reach up and yank on his shirt, pulling him down to my level. He grunts out a laugh as he bends over the back of the couch and kisses my lips. “Too bad he underestimated the power of a hot man on the internet.”
He kisses me again, and this time he takes his time, cupping my chin while my hand grips his biceps. When we finally pull apart, I ask, “How was therapy?”
“Good,” he replies. He started seeing a new therapist a couple of weeks ago. I’m proud of him for talking to someone about his past and the trauma associated with it. Not a lot of men do. “I like my new therapist. He’s different than Sabine. Asks more questions. He’s funny.”
“So you think he’ll work out?”
He nods. “Yeah. I mean, it’s always awkward to rehash my childhood to a complete stranger. But I feel comfortable with Troy, so I think it will be all right.”
“I’m glad.”
“Hey, do you want to go out to lunch with me?”
“Don’t you have work stuff today?” He has been seriously slacking on his duties to the club over the last month. I am beginning to believe the honeymoon phase of a relationship is a real thing because we literally want to spend every second together.
When we almost got caught fucking in the stockroom the other day—again—I started to wonder if there was something wrong with us. Like, this can’t be healthy, right? I’ve never been this obsessed over another person in my life.
So I did the unthinkable. I asked Hendrix for relationship advice. His response, “When it’s the one? Totally normal. Fucking weird, right?”
“I do have a bit of work,” Hollis answers my question. “But I was kind of hoping you might help me with it?”
I turn to face him because he looks hella nervous all of a sudden. “Oh?”
“Well, seeing as you’re my wife…” A shy smile forms on his lips. “I thought it might be nice to get your input on some of the finishes that will go into the club.”
I gape at him. “Shouldn’t you ask Jonas?”
“I did. He agreed I should handle it, and I want your input.”
“But I don’t know the first thing about running a club. How will I know what looks good?”
“The designer has already set aside a few pre-approved choices.”
“So you’re saying I really can’t mess it up?”
He laughs. “No.”
I stand up and join him on the other side of the couch. “Lunch with my husband and an afternoon of spending someone else’s money? Count me in.”
I lead him to the kitchen counter, where he can grab the keys. I don’t even offer to drive anymore. He knows he’s in charge of that now. I kneel down and start putting on my shoes.
“Someone else’s money?”
“Huh?” I blink up at him.
“You said you enjoy spending someone else’s money.” His tone is light. Amused, even.
I rise, shoelaces secured. “Well, yeah. The club is—”
“Ours,” he says firmly.
“What? No, it’s yours. You and Jonas—”
“The morning we woke up in Vegas, I said something to you. Do you remember?”
“You said a lot of crazy things that morning, Hollis.” I grin. “Also, I was kind of distracted the first ten minutes or so because your abs were out.”
He chuckles, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I said what’s mine is yours. I meant it then, and I mean it now. Everything I have is yours.”
“Even your company?” I ask, knowing I have nothing to give him in return. I don’t own Creeds. It seems kind of like a shit deal for him.
“Yes.” His mouth tips up. “Kind of the definition of everything.”
“Okay.” I sigh dramatically. “But it’s not going to be nearly as fun when I know it’s our money. Don’t be surprised if you find me in the clearance aisle.”
He snorts. “I’m sure the designer will love that.”
“Hey.” I shrug, patting my thrift store couch. “Nothing wrong with a good deal, right?”
“No, now that you mention it…” He smirks with some hidden meaning. “Can we make one more stop today?”
Thanksgiving was last week, but you wouldn’t know it while driving around downtown Los Angeles. The sun is shining, the palm trees are swaying, and everyone is in shorts.
It’s as if someone forgot to tell Southern California that Old Man Winter is coming to town.
Hollis and I walk hand in hand down the street. We just finished lunch outside at a little bistro and are now on our way to the design showroom he needs to visit.
I’m actually kind of excited about this. I’ve always wanted a house of my own to fill with funky furniture and pretty things. When Mercury was in college and dorm life would get overwhelming, she’d come over, and we’d watch HGTV and bitch about the shitty decisions couples would make.
Now at least I can pretend for a little while.
We’re nearly to the showroom when a woman stops us. “Are you Presley and Hollis Creed?”
Hollis’s face goes pale. We’ve never discussed last names. Now I’m wondering if we should. “Um…” I hesitate, realizing my short-sleeve shirt has already given me away. My Creed tattoo is staring her right in the face. “Yes.”
“Oh my god, I knew it! I saw you on Celeb News, and I just have to say I love how you stood up for Presley! So romantic. It’s no wonder ‘Hero Hollis’ is trending.”
“Hero Hollis?” I try to keep a straight face.
“You didn’t know?”
“Personally, I think it should be ‘Hollis the Hero,’ but I was an English major! Anyway, you’re a big hit with BookTok.”
“Book what?” Hollis’s brow shoots up.
I choke out a laugh, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll explain to him later. Thanks for letting him know.”
Her cheeks go red, and then she blurts out. “Do you mind if I get a pic? My book club will die when they see!”
I look over at my incredibly embarrassed husband. He shrugs. “Sure.”
This place is huge.
It’s like Disneyland for home design. Everything you could possibly want—from Spanish tile to bamboo floors and designer light fixtures—it’s all here.
“I like this one,” I say, pointing to the black quartz sample on the left.
“Then why do your eyes keep going over there?” Hollis asks with a smirk on his lips.
“You can’t bring me to a place like this and not expect me to shop for myself,” I inform him as I longingly stare at a stunning veined marble that would probably make my eyes water if I saw the price. “That counter would be gorgeous with oak cabinets and brushed gold hardware.”
“Planning your dream kitchen?” he muses.
“Just getting distracted,” I tell him, refocusing on the task in front of us. “Now, what’s next?”
We’ve mainly been choosing finishes for the club’s restrooms. Since they want to preserve as many historical features of the hotel as possible, the rest of the remodel has focused heavily on restoring what already exists, rather than replacing it.
The restrooms, however, have been a complete gut job. Not only because they needed to meet code, but also to be expanded to accommodate the number of people using the club on a nightly basis.
After reviewing the designers’ choices, I appreciate how carefully she stayed true to the hotel’s original design and the overall vision Jonas and Hollis have for the club.
I can’t wait to see it all come together. It’s such a big project, and Hollis and Jonas have worked so hard. There’s been some pushback from the city on zoning, and permits have been tricky, but Vine will officially be opening early next spring.
Jonas is already talking about opening a third in Chicago. Hollis told him he’ll have to hire a project manager for that one because he’s not going anywhere.
Fucking right, you’re not.
Hollis taps out a message on his phone and looks up. “Actually, I think we’re all done.”
“Does that mean you’re going to tell me where we’re going after this?” He’s been keeping this extra stop he added a secret all day. It’s driving me crazy.
He smiles. “Nope.”
We thank the staff and head out. “That was surprisingly easy,” I tell him, as we make our way to the Jeep. “I’m pretty sure your designer just wanted to give you the illusion of a choice because most of those samples were nearly identical.”
He chuckles, taking my hand in his. “I think you might be right. But I did enjoy spending the day with you.”
“I’d enjoy it more if you told me where we were going.” I huff.
“So impatient.”
We walk the short distance to the car, hop in, and soon we are on the freeway heading west. “Are we going to see my parents?”