by Nyla K
But now he’s gone and honestly, I’m tired, too.
Tired of pretending. Tired of faking it, when without him, being that guy just feels so forced.
The confusion and appall that were on my face moments ago must be dissipating, because she reaches up and runs her fingers along my jaw.
“It’s okay to let go of it, baby,” she says calmly. “You made it. You proved them all wrong and burned it down. Now let’s go be happy.”
I blink as her words sound better and better to my eager mind.
“Retiring at forty?” I huff, and she laughs. “Don’t you think that’s a bit of a copout?”
“Not at all,” her head shakes in a vehement way. “You’re a billionaire, Lazarus. We have more money than either of us could spend in multiple lifetimes. What the fuck is standing around making more of it going to do?”
Fair point, little girl.
The only reason I ever wanted money was because I didn’t have it as a kid. But now I have it, and I don’t even really give a fuck about it.
Am I honestly thinking about selling my company? About leaving Miami?
Where the hell would we go? I hate most places…
“Stop resisting,” Traci smirks, and I have to chuckle.
“Where would we move to, though?” I lift a brow. “You’ve only ever lived in Florida.” I think for a moment. “I guess we could go up north. Do you like seasons?”
She smiles, a dazzling, heart-stopping thing that makes me want to drop to my knees and worship her. She looks like a goddess, and she’s mine.
A god and his goddess…
Maybe it could work.
“I don’t want to go to New York,” she shakes her head. “Or anywhere crowded, for that matter. Plus, I’d like to keep the ocean and the warmth.”
I nod along with her thinking out loud, watching the obvious happiness on her face. Then her eyes widen a bit.
“I want to go scuba diving.” Her voice borders on pleading, which is adorable.
I’m not sure why scuba diving is so important to her, but I’ve never been and it sounds like it could be fun.
“So you want to go somewhere tropical…” I mumble in thought. “I could get onboard with that.”
She squeals and drags my face to hers, lips feverishly assaulting mine. I give in immediately and pull her closer, holding her small body on top of me to kiss slow and sweet and so so good. Our lips move for minutes on end, tongues touching and tasting until we’re both breathless and my erection ready for yet another round. Traci moves a hand down to rub on it a little and I groan.
“Are you sure you don’t just want to go on vacation?” I kiss the question on her neck, just to be sure. “I don’t want you getting homesick or anything. Moving is a big deal, baby.”
“I’m ready, Lazarus,” she mewls. “I finally have the man of my dreams. I’m ready to start the rest of my life with you. If that’s what you want.”
Moving back, I gaze into her eyes. Glistening sky-blue irises that hold a world of possibilities; a future I never even considered until now.
This whole thing is making so much sense. What’s left for us here, anyway? Just memories. We’ll take those with us wherever we go, but I really like the idea of starting fresh. With Traci.
Just me and my Little Trick.
“That’s what I want, too,” I tell her, honestly, because it’s true.
I never pictured myself leaving Miami, but then I never pictured myself without Damien. I never pictured myself with his daughter…
Things are so different now, and I’m alright with it. As long as I can keep her…
Keep her happy and keep her.
Forever.
“I love you, Lazarus,” she whimpers over my lips, kissing me easy and warm. “You’re all I need.”
She feels like home, this girl. She feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be, still. Just like the night I took her virginity.
She’s mine.
“I love you, Trix. I’ll do anything for you.”
She smirks at me with hooded eyes, then licks my lower lip. “Good.”
“These are an awful lot of changes,” I palm her ass until she squeaks. “You want me to be your teacher, your accountant… your real estate broker.” I raise my brow while she giggles with delight. A rumbling laugh escapes me while she grins on my mouth, my hands pushing her down on my erection by her butt. “I might need some persuading. All this help will cost you.”
She sighs in content amusement, her lips immediately trailing, without hesitation, down my neck, and chest.
“Well then, Mr. Weston… Let me convince you.”
Her head makes it below my waist, and I growl.
I’d already move mountains for her. What’s moving our lives, after all?
Epilogue
Traci
Six months later…
Sometimes being in love feels like you’re trapped in a whirlwind; a storm that sweeps you up and tosses you somewhere so far from where you started.
Fortunately for me, I got on board with the tornado that is my man long ago, so I was prepared.
Lazarus and I moved to St. Thomas. I know. Fucking crazy, right?
We didn’t tell anyone. We didn’t stop to question it, or allow others to do so.
We just packed up our stuff, sold everything other than some clothes and belongings, and chucked up our deuces.
The day we came home from that trip to Key West for the charity event, Lazarus got started on the elaborate process of moving us away. He was insanely busy for weeks, and I barely saw him during the day, minus the times I would sneak into his office against his grouchy commands, and suck him off under his desk. As serious as he was about getting everything done, it certainly worked to relieve his stress.
Plus, I just love how much of a teddy bear he is after he comes.
My big scary tattooed man and his big beautiful heart…
Anyway, as our family accountant, Lazarus took the reins on finally settling up the estate. He put both of our houses on the market and they sold in less than two weeks, which according to him is very impressive.
After that, he started in on selling Westright. Much to his surprise, Javier, Brian and Valentina were dead-set on taking it over. There were many offers, but he decided to take theirs, mainly because they’re like family, and they promised to keep the name.
Westright Holdings will stay alive and pumping, though Lazarus is no longer CFO.
Now he’s retired. Yea, barely.
Lazarus Weston doesn’t do sitting around well, so as soon as we got to St. Thomas, he turned his focus onto helping me start my business.
That’s right. I’m officially a small business owner.
Lia is my yoga and meditation studio, and it’s amazing. We just had our grand opening last month, and the place is so beautiful I still have to keep pinching myself. I can’t believe I have my own studio, with my mother’s name on it. And now I get to teach yoga almost every day.
Lia is the only yoga studio on our side of the island, but what makes it even more special is that I lead meditation workshops for recovering addicts and people suffering from mental health issues. I wasn’t sure how folks would respond to it at first, but to my surprise our classes are already booked up through the end of next month.
I even drag Lazarus to classes from time to time, and I know he enjoys himself, though he would never admit it. Plus, people still love watching him stretch.
Lazarus is really my everything, which is scary sometimes because it constantly reminds me of how fickle life can be. We’re both still dealing with our fears of losing one another, since we don’t really have anyone else. Sure we have Pete and Frankie, who were besides themselves when they found out we moved without saying anything, even more so than when they found out we were dating, which is a story for another time. But we promised they could come out and visit whenever they like, which I think helped calm them down a bit.
Merci was a harder sell.
I think she’s still kind of mad at me for leaving Miami. She too has an open-ended invitation to come stay with us in our cozy yet luxurious tropical bungalow, but she hasn’t taken me up on the offer just yet. She started dating Viktor, the scary Russian bartender from Boom Boom, and I know she has her hands full with that apparently disastrous relationship.
I’ve made some friends here already, like the girls who work with me at the studio, and some locals, but for the most part it’s just me and Lazarus, and I’m fine with it.
More than. This is exactly what I had in mind when I suggested moving.
I spend my days teaching yoga, meditating, and running the business, then come home to my hot, sexy older roommate boyfriend. At first I was nervous that Lazarus would get sick of me, since he doesn’t seem to have any desire to make friends. He communicates with people, sort of, in his own quiet Lazarus way, but apparently he really is content with it being just us.
He has his hands full with the business side of Lia anyway, as my partner. He insists that he’s letting me do the whole thing on my own, but we all know that’s not entirely true. I know little to nothing about the financial side of things, and that’s where Lazarus comes in.
He loves his numbers, like the damn robot he is.
And I love him. Seriously… It’s been over a year since we started actively hooking up and I’m still beyond smitten. It’s almost ridiculous. My obsession has gone off the rails, but now it’s acceptable. Because he’s just as obsessed with me.
After work, I pull up to our house in my Mini Cooper and turn off the engine. I bought this car when we got here and I love it. I figured a small car made sense on an island. Lazarus only made fun of me a little, but he’s just jealous. He bought himself a new Maserati; a convertible this time.
Typical.
Grabbing my bag off the seat, I head up the steps to our home, secluded in the tropical hills of St. Thomas. Our place is everything you could ever dream of having in a beach bungalow. It overlooks the gorgeous teal ocean; tons of full-length glass windows and doors. Bamboo everywhere. An amazing patio with the whole barbecue setup, and an infinity pool, like Laz’s in Miami.
When we first moved here, we lived at a resort for a while until we found this place. Lazarus was scrupulous in his search for the perfect house. He wanted it to feel homey while also giving off that lavish, tropical getaway vibe, and of course keeping us safe. The storms down here are no joke, worse than Miami. It doesn’t happen often, but my man wouldn’t settle for anything less than top-notch protection from the elements.
After weeks of searching, we found this place, and we instantly fell in love. We had to do some renovations to it, but it didn’t take long. Now we’ve lived here for months and it’s home, without a doubt. It has been since the day we moved in.
That first night was one of the best nights of my life. We ordered pizza and ate it on the floor, surrounded by boxes, and then we made love for hours, beneath the stars, visible through the skylights.
My life is fucking perfect, and I’m unapologetically happy.
I have everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and I will die before I let anyone take this away from me. I think after all the bullshit, I deserve this bliss. We do.
“Baby?” I call out, wandering through the foyer, dropping off my stuff as I go. “I’m home! Where are you, you sexy beast?”
I get no response, which prompts me to roll my eyes. He’s probably out back, grilling. He’s a grill freak now. I can smell the food already, and my mouth is watering as I make my way through the kitchen, noting the mess all over the island. Yup. He’s definitely making dinner.
As I round the corner, I spot him through the windows that overlook the patio. His back is to me and I have to take a moment to just stare. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life and blessed doesn’t even begin to describe what I am to have him as mine.
Not even just for his perfect body, beautiful gray eyes, soft lips and that jawline that goes on for miles. But for what’s inside him, too. His big, sexy brain.
The way he overthinks things, but saves his words for when they mean the most. His heart… The part of him that used to be so bruised and black, scarred and weary, now full of love and light.
All the pain of his life led him to this joy. I will be everything he needs for the rest of our lives, because he deserves it. He deserves a perfect life.
Watching Lazarus Weston, in a trance that I so often find myself in while looking at him, I realize that he’s holding something in his hand. I can’t see exactly what it is, but he’s staring at it, so I move in closer, attempting to catch a glimpse. I tiptoe to the door, which is open, blowing warm ocean breeze through my hair.
As I approach the doorway, I hear him speaking. I’m not sure who he’s talking to, since he’s obviously not on the phone, but as I make it to only a few feet away, it becomes crystal clear.
“This feels right,” his voice is gruff and hesitant. “I know it’s fucking crazy, but just… thank you. For making her.”
I swallow hard, wide eyes set on the back of his head, feeling heavily guilty for eavesdropping on whatever moment he’s having. I learned a while back that when Lazarus is having his moments, I need to just let him do his thing. He’s a very complicated person, and the last thing he needs is to be smothered.
“I’ll always miss you. And I’ll always love you… But this is so real, Day.” He stops to breathe out hard. “I never want this to stop. I want her forever.”
Pressing my lips together, I try to back away quietly, but I bump into the door and Lazarus turns. His eyes widen, mouth dropping open as he stares at me for a moment.
I feel awful. I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to my dad, or like I was spying on him.
“Hey,” I croak. “Sorry, I just got home, and I was… looking for you.”
He blinks over giant gray circles, then my gaze drops to his hands, to what he’s holding. Before I can get a look at it, he shoves it into his pocket, then clears his throat, rubbing his hands together.
“Um… I was just…” he looks around, jittery and nervous and guilty, which is so unlike him it’s actually amusing. “Making dinner. And talking to myself. I was talking to myself… You caught me.”
He huffs and spins in place, pacing over to the grill. I follow him slowly.
“I’m making tuna steaks,” he keeps rambling, picking up a spatula and poking at a piece of fish sizzling on the grill. “I got some awesome yellowfin from Kyle’s place. And that pineapple salsa you like to go with it.”
“Thanks,” I say softly, coming up to his side. “That sounds delicious.”
“You hungry?” He peeks at me for a split second. “How was your day?”
He’s trying to distract me.
It’s fine. I get it. He doesn’t want to admit that he was talking to Dad. But now I’m really curious… What was he talking about?
And what the hell is in his pocket?
“Lazarus…” I whisper, and he looks at me again, this time letting our eyes lock.
He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. I take his hand in mine and place it over my heart. When his eyes peel open, there’s so much emotion in that shiny gray, it’s brilliantly overpowering.
“I was talking to him…” he sighs.
I nod. “I know, baby.”
“It’s just… Traci, I’m so happy here.” He swallows visibly. “It’s weird, I’ve never felt like this before. I didn’t know life could be like this. I’m so glad I came here with you.”
My heart expands in my chest and I wrap my arms around his waist, smooshing myself into his warmth and hard muscles through the soft fabric of his clothes.
He smells like heaven on Earth.
“Are you happy?” He asks, and my face flings up.
“Is that a real question?” I squeak, to which he smiles. It’s one of those coveted Lazarus Weston smiles that used to be so rare and infrequent, they w
ere like a mirage when you would see one.
He does it much more often now. He smiles and laughs, not all the time, because he’s him, but still it’s enchanting to see him like this. Like all the dreams I had when I was younger. He’s mine, and he loves me.
This is real. It’s not my imagination anymore.
“You’ve made my dreams come true, Lazarus,” I tell him, quietly.
His breathing seems to shallow, though his chest is moving and I think he’s nervous. And now I’m nervous, because I can’t stop thinking about what’s in his pocket…
“You’re my dream, Little Trick,” he says, then kisses me on the head. The way he does when he’s shutting down a conversation.
I know he’s anxious. I can feel it, he’s unusually stiff. But before I can ask him if he’s okay, he shuts the grill off.
“Let’s eat, baby.”
And so we do. We sit at the outside table and have our dinner in comfortable quiet.
We talk a bit. I tell him about my day at the studio, and he tells me about some new advertising spots he’s thinking about booking. He teases me and we smile at each other, and touch and kiss, like we always do. It’s peaceful and perfect, but in the back of my mind, I’m going crazy.
Could it be a ring?
Would Lazarus really ask me to marry him?
Would he want that?
We’ve literally never talked about it. We’ve been busy moving out and starting the business, buying the house and just being in love. Sure, he frequently tells me I’m his everything, and that he wants this forever, but those are just words.
A ring in his pocket is an action.
When we’re done with dinner, we decide to go for a walk on the beach. I change into a swimsuit and a sheer t-shirt, and by the time I get out of the bathroom, Lazarus has changed into swim trunks.
Do they have pockets? Oh God, I’m losing my mind.
I need to stop obsessing. Just leave it alone, Trace.