by Alex Wolf
I glance over and can’t hear much of what they’re saying, but Meadow is grinning and laughing, chatting up a storm like she’s having the time of her life, possibly getting dirt on me. There’s no telling. But she glances over at me, her cheeks slightly pink, and smiles.
Not a normal smile, but a smile that says she’s happy. Like this is how she’d love to spend this hour. Like it’s something that’s important to her.
My heart warms at the thought. I have plenty of time to romance her, take her places, surprise her with flowers and dates and all the shit you do with someone you care about. But this right here, I hope she knows how big of a deal it is for me to let someone in like this. Judging by the look on her face, I believe I knocked this one out of the park. Which I’m not surprised about, either. It was a big risk bringing her here, but that’s how I live my life. Big risks, big rewards.
“Something’s different with this one.” Dex smiles. He knows damn well it’s different.
The women I usually bring around when we meet at a club all have huge fake tits, fake smiles, and are worthless for conversation. I think that’s why I used to enjoy them. They didn’t even attempt normal human interaction. They wanted some money and some dick, and I supplied them with both.
Finally, I smile. “Just get it over with, you motherfuckers. I set myself up for this, purposely. Let’s not skirt the topic.”
“So direct.” Cole grins. “Why can’t you let us take our time and slowly enjoy torturing your ass?”
“Do what you must, gentlemen.”
Dex nudges me with his elbow. “Naw, I don’t want to ruin this.”
“Ruin what?”
“Your high,” says Cole.
“My high?”
They both laugh. “Never seen you look the way you do right now.”
I scoff. “I get that it’s a big deal, but it’s not that big of a deal. Let’s just slow down a little and not get carried away.”
“Pick out a ring yet?” Cole laughs.
Dex laughs just as hard.
“I did, but your mom came over and now it’s gone.”
Cole’s eyes get big.
Dexter dies laughing.
Nobody else in the world could get away with saying that to him, a former MMA world champion. Earlier in the year he reunited with his estranged mother, and she stole a bunch of money from his safe.
“Such a fucking asshole.” Cole’s shoulders start bouncing, and eventually he laughs as hard as Dexter does.
“They’re having way too much fun over there.” Abigail’s voice carries over and lands in our ears.
The three of us turn, and all three women stare at us, shaking their heads, as if we shouldn’t be enjoying ourselves as much as we are.
“Billions of dollars of net worth between the three of them, and you put them in a room and it’s like a bunch of immature middle-school boys.” Harlow snickers at us.
Dexter straightens up. “We can be mature, when we need to be.”
“Sure you can,” Meadow says in the most condescending mom voice I’ve ever heard. Didn’t even miss a beat. “Bet you’re a real roller coaster of emotional maturity.”
Harlow and Abigail die laughing.
I freeze up for a second, because I have not said a single word about the roller coaster proposal between Dex and Abigail.
Dexter looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, staring at her, trying to figure out how she knows. He turns to me. “What the fuck? You told her?”
I hold both hands up while everyone else laughs, and I try to keep a straight face. “I swear, I didn’t.” My brain goes into overdrive trying to figure out how she knows that.
Finally, Dex just shakes his head. “Oh, she’ll fit right in. Fucking ruthless.” Dex smiles at me and knocks his rocks glass into mine.
The women go back to their little chat, Abigail and Harlow looking at Meadow like they’re impressed.
“Still drinking water?” I ask Cole.
“Yeah, man. Trying to see how long I can go stone sober. At first, I was just trying to see if I could go a month. But I got there, then two months, and now it’s like a challenge. Gone so far I don’t want to break the streak.”
“Can’t even do sobriety without having to compete. Do you wear the same underwear nonstop while your streak is alive?”
Dex and I share another laugh at Cole’s expense, despite the fact he could pummel both our faces if he wished.
Suddenly, Dex’s eyes widen, like he just had some kind of epiphany. He glances over at Meadow, then his gaze returns to mine. “Wedding’s coming up.”
I lean in, doing my best to keep my voice down so we’re not overheard. “Oh yeah, how’s the planning going?” It’s impossible to mask the teasing tone. If these women catch a whiff of this conversation, they’ll be all over it, and it will not be enjoyable. There’s nothing worse than a bunch of chicks talking about wedding plans.
Suddenly, we’re surrounded by all three women.
Fuck. It’s amazing how well they can hear. Equally amazing how they can show up like a swarm of bees when they hear wedding talk taking place among men.
“Actually, Dex has been doing most of the planning. Taking care of everything.” Abigail is so sweet and naïve. She deserves so much better than the man sitting before me, who’s now cowering because he knows she just handed me an arsenal of ammunition to fire at him.
“I have no doubt that he has.” I smirk right at Dexter, and he won’t even look at me.
Abigail continues while Harlow and Meadow can clearly see what’s happening.
“He gets so excited about things when he finds a good price or sees something he really likes. He Googles coolest wedding ideas, or points things out that happen in movies, and sends me links to articles to see what I want. It’s super sweet.”
I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Well, that’s our Dex in a nutshell. Do you have a Pinterest page?”
Cole attempts to contain himself.
Abigail says, “Actually…”
I start to lose it. You can’t make this shit up.
“I think it’s awesome,” says Meadow.
Dex’s eyes dart over to her, completely ignoring me. “You do?”
Meadow nods. “Hell yes. There’s nothing sexier than a man who’s confident and takes charge, even with wedding plans. Wants to do whatever he can to make his fiancée happy. That’s how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it? Why else would you want to be with someone unless you get excited about making them happy?”
I smile right at Meadow. I think that’s the main difference between us. She’s much kinder than me, likes to build people up. It’s addictive, too. Makes me want to be better. Even I find myself admiring Dex a little after she puts it in that perspective. Before Meadow, I wouldn’t have understood at all. Now, I find myself wanting to be that way with her. She’s right. I’d do anything to make her happy. Including taking the lead on wedding plans.
Though, to be fair, I still feel it’s my friendly duty to make sure Dex is thoroughly made fun of for it. That’s also the natural way of good friendships.
“Thank you,” says Dex. Then he flips me the bird right in my face.
Cole and I laugh.
I give his shoulder another squeeze. “I really am happy for you.”
“Thanks, man.”
“So—” Abigail pauses for a moment, then kind of looks around, like she’s unsure about what she’s about to say. Finally, she comes out with it. “Still need a plus two?”
Fuck me. I should’ve seen this coming, but I was too blinded by everything else; giving Dex shit, being mesmerized every time Meadow is in my presence.
Meadow folds her arms over her chest, the way she always does that’s so fucking hot. “Plus two?” She plays it off like she’s teasing, but I can tell it probably bothers her a little.
I do my best to be nice, because I know Abigail didn’t mean anything by the question. I know exactly what she’s doing, and what everyone else in th
is damn group wants me to do right now, apparently.
It’s like they have shone a spotlight right on my fucking head.
But I don’t mind. I have no reason not to do it. I want to do it.
I look right at Meadow but speak out the side of my mouth to Abigail. “Nope. Plus one.” I know I said odd numbers bother me. They usually do, but not this time. There’s only one I want.
Just. Fucking. One.
Abigail smiles, obviously reading the situation she forced to light, and it’s working in her favor. “Do you—”
I don’t let her finish her sentence, still gazing right at Meadow. “Will you go to their wedding with me?”
I don’t think Meadow was quite ready for this when she started all the teasing. Her eyes remain locked on mine, but I know the look anywhere. I can see behind her eyes. A million calculations, permutations, every possible outcome, the significance of every event along the way. I know that feeling intimately and have never been able to relate to anyone else because of it—no one else, but her.
“For sake of clarity, you want me to be your date to their wedding?”
It’s a stalling tactic, to give her more time to think. We both know what her answer will be.
I rise from the barstool and take a step toward her. Everyone else immediately backs out of our way.
Her eyes roll up to meet mine.
“Absolutely,” I say, leaving no room for misinterpreting my intentions. It allows her to make the decision, but asserts that I’ll go to the ends of the earth to get what I want if she tries to say no.
We do the stare down thing, everyone else fading off into the periphery, just the two of us standing there together. It’s how it always is with her. Life just fucking fades away in every moment with Meadow, boils everything down to just us.
Finally, she nods and says, “Okay. Yes, I’ll go with you.”
I don’t know if anything has ever made me as happy as I am right now. The plan was to just bring her to meet my friends, not this. But now, my night is even better than it was.
Meadow Carlson
The past two weeks have been anything but normal. I don’t know if my life has ever been tipped upside down like this. The fact I’m even somewhat juggling it impresses me. I think my father being out of prison is the only reason this is even working with Wells Covington.
That’s what worries me, though. It feels so real with him, but I’m worried I’m just using him as an escape, even if I keep telling myself these feelings are real, that this could actually happen between us.
It may indirectly be the only nice thing my father has done for me, pissed me off so bad I can’t stand the sight of him, which forces me to go out and do normal people things, like have a relationship.
I want to be there for Mom so badly, and I am most of the time. I just need a break every now and then.
When he’s there, I want to yell, throw things, lash out, and that’s not healthy for her. Of course, she’s a champion through all of this. The guilt eats at me constantly when I’m away, but she made it clear she also wants time alone with him, which I kind of understand but don’t at the same time.
How does she forgive him so easily? It makes me want to scream.
Loyalty and trust are probably the most important things to me, which is why I feel a small pang of guilt every time I’m around Covington. He has no idea what I’m going through with my mom and my father. I haven’t let him in on any of that yet. He introduced me to his best friends, let me into his world, and I really haven’t given him any of my personal life in return.
To be fair, he doesn’t ask, but I know he’s serious about me. Serious as a goddamn heart attack. Every time he looks at me, touches me—I see it, feel it.
I do not have time to fall for a man, especially right now, not with all this going on. When Mom dies, and she will die from this cancer, it’s going to put me out of commission for a while. There’s no fucking way around it and it guts me to think about it. How bad it’s going to hurt. I know Mom will forgive me for working so much, not getting enough time with her the past few years, but I won’t forgive myself. I just won’t.
I had enough money, and I could’ve made enough time. The world could’ve waited. I know I’m being irrational. She’s fifty-seven and was in perfectly good health. We should’ve still had decades to come. Nobody could’ve seen this coming, yet I still should’ve gamed it out, should’ve had some kind of plan for this.
I hate that I’m like my father in that way. I hate that I got so much of him and so little of my mom. I don’t want to be like this. I just want to be normal and not have a brain that constantly calculates odds and risk and possible outcomes.
There’s no point in feeling sorry for myself though. It is what it is. Mom’s going to die, I hate my father, and Covington makes me happy and is carrying me through the downtime, while my mom is with…the asshole.
I pull up to Covington’s ridiculous gate, and I don’t really hate his place as much as I once did. I don’t think I ever really hated it that much, I just hated the idea that Wells could win me over, make me like him as much as I do. To be fair, I like the tension just as much as Wells does. I pushed back at him, just to see how hard he’d come after me.
There’s also another thing that helped change my opinion on the ostentatious mansion. The main reason is the man who answers the speaker when I pull up.
“Orson, it’s me!”
“Very well, Ms. Carlson.” The gate swings open.
I can’t believe how at home I feel in this gaudy-ass place now, in a matter of weeks. Half the time I’m here, I just try to ignore the opulence and excess. Maybe one day I’ll talk Covington into donating it or selling it off. I know he doesn’t even want it that much; he just likes to piss off wealthy people, and I haven’t figured out exactly why that is yet. I think he might hate his Wall Street colleagues more than I do.
The psychology would tell me something happened in his childhood, he had poor experiences with wealthy people, something. I don’t know. To be fair, he hasn’t given me much insight into his past, beyond his friends, which I use as justification for keeping my personal problems from him.
I weave around up his mile-long driveway, past the golf course and the helicopter pad and all that. I pull up to the roundabout, park, and head toward the door.
As always, Orson opens it right before I can knock or ring a doorbell.
I immediately give him a hug, probably against his wishes, but he never complains.
Instead, he politely pats me a few times on the back, and quickly gets some distance between us. “Pleasure to see you, Ms. Carlson.”
“Likewise, Orson.” I fake a frown at him. “Is he ready?”
“Ms. Carlson, I don’t know if that dignifies a response.”
I crack up laughing. “That’s fair.”
“Too right, ma’am. You can wait in the living room, and I’ll have a go at getting him to get his act together. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Thank you.”
He walks off, and I head for the living room.
It’s crazy how every day, the moment before I see Wells, I still get the same butterflies in my stomach. I love how he can make me forget my other stresses with Mom’s situation, issues with my firm, the big shelter project. I feel normal when I’m here, even though we are anything but a normal couple.
A few minutes later, Covington rounds the corner like he’s been hustling to get ready.
God, he looks so hot when he dresses casual. Don’t get me wrong, the man can wear a suit like no other. But I like it when he’s dressed down. It makes him feel more—real.
Right now, he has on some dark designer jeans and a charcoal-gray V-neck shirt that clings to his chest and biceps. I want to rip it off him immediately.
“Don’t pretend like you were ready. Orson sold you out.”
“That old prick.” He turns and yells, “Orson, you’re fired!”
I fold my arms over my chest and shake my
head. “You are not getting rid of him. He’s the only reason I come over here.”
Before I know what’s happened, Covington’s long arms reach out, and he grips my hips and yanks me over to him. His hands make their way to my cheeks, cupping my face in his palms.
“The only reason?”
I nod. “Mmhmm.”
He bends down to kiss me. “Don’t lie to me, Carlson. Or I shall have his employment terminated.”
“I decline the offer!” Orson’s voice carries into the living room, like he yelled it from the other end of the estate.
“Old bastard has some pep in him. I’ll give him that.”
“I could listen to you two banter in your formal jargon all day long. It’s cute.”
Covington kisses me, and that familiar tingling shoots into my fingers and toes.
I want to just float away, but I manage to open my eyes and say, “Where you taking me?”
“Romano Custom Tailoring.”
I take a step back. “Wh-who? What?”
“I guess that’s a no?” He laughs, clearly messing with me.
“No, it’s not a no, dipshit. Massimo Romano’s shop? That one?” I just want to make sure I have this right.
Covington shrugs. “Of course. Why?”
I realize I might be fangirling a little. His shop is amazing, though. I shake my head, trying to play it off. “Nothing. Why we going there?”
“You’re excited about this.” His fingers dig into my hips a little harder.
“You going to try to leverage that into some kind of deal?”
He nods. “Of course. You know how this works between us.”
I grin and shake my head at him. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
Covington breaks his little posturing act. “I need to buy a tux for Dexter’s wedding. We’re all going to wear similar ones or some shit. And we need to get you a dress.”
My heartbeat pounds in my ears. I push away from him a little and look him straight in the eyes. “I’m getting a dress? From Massimo Romano?”
Covington’s jaw clenches. “Not if you keep saying his name like that.”
I laugh. Then I run my hands up Covington’s broad shoulders and kiss him full on the mouth. As our hands start to explore, the kiss gets hot and heavy, and I paw at his belt, trying to get it undone.