Chapter 32
Marina
Months later . . .
Love came fast and from the right as I recall the day I met Cash.
We’ve been living in the fast lane ever since.
No complaints. No regrets. I can’t even make myself grieve the time we spent apart.
That’s when I finally came into my own. I stopped living in the shadows of the greatness my brothers had achieved.
I stepped out of the failures I had in my past and accepted that I deserved better—personally and professionally.
Being stubborn, mad, or holding a grudge only kept me from living the life I wanted. Now I have the second chance I thought I’d never get. Full throttle, baby. Cash might be rubbing off on me.
“Are you awake?” he whispers against his pillow.
I open my eyes, unable to see anything in the dark until they adjust to the low level of light from the outside. Rolling to my side, I prop my hand under my head and watch Cash come into view. It’s an incredible sight to see that I’ll never take for granted. I love when he’s home.
His smile makes my day so much better, those eyes that never hold less than pure love when I gaze into them, and the fingers that—
“Yes, right there,” I breathe after the tips of his fingers slip between my legs. “That feels so good.”
Balanced on his arm, he hovers over me and kisses my neck. “You feel so good, babe. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
I can’t either, so I shift, breaking the connection, and push up to straddle him. With him on his back, I rest my palms firmly on his chest. “I need you inside me. So much.”
A growl rumbles around his chest as he holds my hips, his palms spreading the width as his fingers dig into the cushion of my ass. “You’re so fucking tempting.”
“How tempting?”
“Tempting to fuck like there’s no love lost between us.”
He lifts me so fast, sinking me down on his erection, that I groan in pleasure and shock before I have a chance to reply. My breath is stolen, my body stretched to acclimate. Every time with him feels so much like the first all over again.
When I drop my head, my hair curtains my vision, so I close my eyes and feel instead. “Oh God, yes, Cash.”
He can’t hide the way he craves me, his need is visceral, his mouth marking my chest. It’s all so much, so much at once, that my head spins. My body is a traitor to me and Cash Warren’s number one fan. It’s easy to feel drunk off this man.
“Ah,” I moan, falling into ecstasy just as fast as I did in love with him.
And he falls just as quickly.
“They’re here.” I scamper from the terrace to answer the door. “Come in. Come in.” I bend and give my best buddy a big hug. “How are you?”
“Hungry,” Cullen complains, his mom shuffling him inside the apartment.
“Your dad has snacks on the terrace.” He drops his backpack against the back of the couch and is gone as soon as I mention food. “He’s growing fast. Soon, he’ll be taller than me since I’m the shorty around here.” I’m not that short, but Cullen will be tall like his dad and model mom.
I turn to Terpidy and smile. “How are you doing?”
There’s a shyness, which I understand and relate to. We’re not close friends, but we’re friendly and in this together. We get along well, but for Cash, boundaries are best kept in place.
Terpidy smiles, and it appears genuine. “I can’t stay long.”
We stand there together. I rock back on my heels and make small talk. “Any fun plans?”
“I have a date tonight that I’m looking forward to. A great guy I met years ago. He has a daughter a little older than Cullen. They all get along.” I can see how much she cares about him by how her whole personality comes to life.
“Sounds really nice.”
“The place looks nice. You’ve really made it home.”
I look around seeing a few pieces of mine that I’ve added over the time I’ve lived here—a green vase on the island that Cash fills with flowers each week, a small painting I found in the Paris flea market when I traveled with Cash to the race in September, and bright yellow cushions on the couch that don’t match at all but somehow soften the harsher darks of the main fabric.
It’s not mine, but I love the present I gave Cash for winning his first podium this season in August—a large-framed photo hanging in the dining area that a popular photographer friend of mine, Story Salenger, took of Cullen last summer in Central Park.
“Thank you.”
She opens her mouth and then stops, closing it. “I—”
“I—”
We both say at the same time. I say, “You go first.”
Nodding, she starts, “I, um. I just wanted to tell you how much Cullen adores you. He talks about you all the time.”
Sometimes I wonder if it bothers her that we get along so well, so I’m glad she brought it up, even if it’s a little uncomfortable. “I adore him.” I feel this is the time to tell her what’s really on my mind. “I’ll respect you and Cash as his parents.”
Reaching over, she touches the top of my hand.
“I know. I appreciate it.” She glances out the glass doors, watching Cullen and Cash on the terrace, and says, “I used to drink on race days.” When her eyes return to mine, her expression falls.
“I struggled to let go of the image of the family I imagined I should have.”
How does she see this going? I glance back at Cash, silently worrying I’m crossing a line I shouldn’t without him. “That can be hard to reconcile.”
“Don’t worry, it was reconciled a long time ago. Cash and I are oil and water. Things are how they should be.” She leans in and whispers, “I’m so glad he found you. You saved his life.”
This time I open my mouth, but then close it, thinking about what she said. I always thought he saved me, like on the red carpet. But when I look back over my shoulder, I think she might be right. Cash didn’t care about anything but Cullen and his career.
Now he has a life.
I cross the imaginary line and give her a hug.
She hesitates at first, but then she embraces me.
I whisper, “Thank you.” I don’t break down how grateful I am that they were a disaster or how she didn’t just make him a father, she helped create Cullen.
I have him in my life because of the role she played in his. Tears well in the corners of my eyes.
“I’ve been so emotional lately.” Stepping back, I dab with my knuckles, laughing at myself.
She starts to laugh. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”
And then dead silence.
It’s a few seconds before my mind catches up to the conversation, and I laugh, though even I don’t hear the humor in it. “There’s no chance. I’m on birth control.”
Suddenly, she’s backtracking toward the door as we stare at each other. She turns and steps into the hallway, and then says, “So was I. Have a good time.”
As soon as the door closes, I grab my phone and text Poppy:
I need all the pregnancy tests you can buy.
Poppy:
On it.
No questions asked. Dropping everything to be here for me. And that is why she’s my best friend.
I get a glass of cold water and down it. This is not what I expected to bond me to Terpidy, but oh my God!
I refill the glass and set it on the counter. With my hands resting forward, I watch how happy Cash is with his son and hear Cullen’s giggles even with the doors closed. He’s such a great father.
Stop, Marina.
I’m not pregnant.
I’m just in love. Happiness of this depth and width can’t be contained. That’s why everything feels big in life.
Critics raved about the play, and we’re sold out every night. My family adores Cash, and my brothers have learned to separate the man from the driver, especially at family get-togethers.
And though he’s on the road a lot, he’s in constant contact. I don’t just hear I love you. He shows me every day. The sex is also spectacular. The things he can do . . . he’s a dream come true.
Life is so good.
I couldn’t ask for more.
Nine months later . . .
“Delta, Port, Loch, Harbor, Noah, Marina.” Cash shakes his head. “But why?”
I shrug, looking up at him. “Guess my parents figured they were onto something, so they continued with their own tradition.”
“But Noah isn’t the name of a body of water.”
“Shh.” I hold my finger up to my lips so Noah doesn’t hear us.
He’s only a few steps ahead as we make our way backstage to meet the band Faris Wheel who just performed.
“He’ll hear you. He’s a little sensitive about being left out.
The Noah’s Arc connection is a stretch of the imagination, but it fits, just like Noah fits who he is. ”
With his arm around my back, his hand holds my waist. I’m pressed against his side, making it hard to maneuver through the throngs of people celebrating after the race. Concerts and fireworks—they do it up big in Texas. He asks, “Is this a tradition you want to continue?”
I shouldn’t be sad, but a part of me is that I wasn’t pregnant.
Just happy. Go figure why that would be disappointing.
Maybe I’m ready for that next step. We talk casually, but what if we started planning?
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I reply, snaking my arm around him and loving the way he holds me like I’m precious.
Chuckling, he says, “I get it. Bridge over water. The names.”
It wasn’t even a pun I intended, but I’ll take the credit and laugh.
Poppy turns back and asks, “How do I look?”
I glance at her with her blond hair looking freshly brushed, her lips glossy, and makeup not running down her face like mine did. “Beautiful like always.”
“For real, Marina. I’ve been sweating at this track all day. It’s like a hundred and ten.” She leans against me. “Do I smell?”
“I have this guy making me sweat. I don’t need you getting on my other side. You do not stink, Pops. Actually, can I borrow your perfume? Smells good.” She hands me a rollerball tube, and I run it over my neck and chest, then dab it on my wrist. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Keeping up with us, she asks, “What are we doing after this? Going out?”
“What do you think, Cash? Hotel or out afterward?”
All it takes is a look for me to know his answer. “Sorry, Pops.”
She rolls her eyes. “You guys are so boring.”
We are. I love it.
Considering how many days he’s gone a year while I’m working in New York City, I take advantage of every single one I get to spend with him.
We’re ushered past security and pass an opening between two heavy-draped black curtains. The lead singer is already gone, but the two other band members welcome us. “Great race, man,” one says, slapping his hand into Cash’s. “Congrats on third.”
“Thanks. It’s good to be back on that podium again.” Cash adds, “Killer show.” Turning to me, he smiles. “This is Marina Westcott.”
“Yeah, I know. I, uh, might be a fan.”
I laugh. “I appreciate it. I loved your performance.”
Some moments feel intimate, a space in time that only two people share that no one else should bear witness. It’s theirs alone. That’s this moment. I see it as soon as he lays eyes on Poppy, and she sees him.
“Laird Faris,” he says, holding out his hand.
When hers connects, it’s electric. “Poppy Stanfield. Nice to meet you.”
That’s our cue to leave.
Pulling Cash by the hand, I slip us back through the curtains and down the steps past security.
Cash says, “Guess she has plans tonight after all.”
“So it seems.” I grin, my happiness extending to my friend. I’ve met all her boyfriends, and I never saw her come alive like she did for him.
Smiling all the way back to the hotel, I can’t wait for the plane ride back to New York to get all the details. “They looked good together, don’t you think?”
Cash chuckles. “Sure,” he replies, humoring me. “They make quite the couple.”
But that’s what we do. We compromise.
We humor.
We support each other.
We love endlessly.
I lean my head on his shoulder, letting myself feel the bigger emotions coming over me lately. I love him and want so much more with him, so I whisper, “I want to get married.”
He shuffles, careful not to disturb our positions.
With one arm around me, a kiss is placed on my head while his other comes into focus in front of me.
More specifically, his hand and the ring he’s holding between his fingers.
I don’t move, not a muscle. I don’t even know if I’m breathing as I stare at the sparkling diamonds. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”