Page 93 of Tied Up in Riches

“Are you ready for next week?” He fends off my pass at him.

“Yes. I can’t stop looking at the website you made me. It’s so beautiful.”

“Fitting. For you. And your company.”

I grin. I can’t believe as of two o’clock this afternoon, I’m officially a business owner. Brooke’s Boxes. I put together custom boxes for all kinds of people. I started locally–and unofficially–creating ones for bridal parties and baby showers. I formulated a very detailed–possibly annoyingly so–questionnaire nailing down exactly the vibe of their recipient. No two boxes are the same, each filled with unique or personalized goodies designed to make someone feel extra loved. It’s been successful enough that I’m confident it can be profitable on a larger scale–especially since they are so much more personalized than anything currently on the market.

I didn’t need much money to start, but Marcus insisted on investing nonetheless, so I didn’t have to take out a small business loan. I have to admit, having a wealthy boyfriend who wants to use his money to improve the lives of people around him instead of showing off to them makes all the difference.

“I think we make a pretty good team.”

“Me too.”

He reaches around me, holding tight to my back so I don’t fall as he grabs the marshmallow sticks. With me still cozy on his lap, he holds both sticks together, roasting our treats as much as he can.

When they are a perfect golden, he pulls them between us, and we each pinch the hot gooey dessert from the stick. He blows on mine before I shove the whole thing in my mouth, grinning at him with sticky lips.

He does the same, chewing until he can swallow, then kisses me again. He bites into my lip, and I feel his tongue trail along some sticky residue. Pulling back, he says, “It’s absurd to me that I never made time for this before.”

“You didn’t have me before. And you’re stuck with me now, so get used to it.”

“Stuck with you or stuck to you?” he asks, gripping my hand in his and licking the rest of the marshmallow off of it.

“Both, if you’d like.” I grin, grinding into him again. This time he gives in.

Epilogue

Brooke

“I think I’m coming around to this whole dating rich thing,” I tell Marcus, linking my fingers with his and leaning into his side as I take in the interior of the private plane. It’s insane to see the difference between people who spend their money just to prove they have it versus spending it to help dreams come true for those they love.

“Is that so?” he looks down at me with a smirk before kissing the top of my head. “Wait until you see the bedroom.”

My eyes go wide. “There’s a bed? On a plane?” I’ve seen it in movies, but that’s totally different than experiencing it in real life. “I guess we should probably let Maci and Dean have it since it’s their wedding, huh?”

He gives me a pointed look. “I’m a giving man. I chartered this plane for them. But, I know for a fact those two have already joined the mile high club. So, this room is ours for the next seventeen hours.”

I slap his chest. “We can’t stay in there for a whole day.”

“Says who?”

“What are you going to do? Handcuff me to the bed?”

He raises a suggestive brow at me. “If you want me to.”

I grin. I love this man and everything in life we’ve explored over the past six months together. It’s been mostly work, but Marcus has been so much better about taking time to enjoy other things. True to his word, we’ve taken a monthly off-the-grid camping trip, and he has a few resorts booked for the start of the year when it’ll be too cold. Plus, whenever he can afford a full night off work, he pays a driver to take us to Portland or Vancouver. We’ve been slowly making our way through the list of breweries, wineries and local restaurants. He’s only half the workaholic he was before. And some of his work includes helping me since my business has been killing it the past few months. Once we get back from Australia, Maci and Dean are moving out, and we’re turning their room into my office.

As we walk through the aisle of the plane, everyone else is getting situated. We were the last to board as Marcus chatted with the pilot. Dean is hanging everyone’s wedding clothes in the closet at the front of the plane. Maci and Avery are sitting next to each other in two massive tan leather seats with their book club book on their lap as they look out the window. Lexy is straddling Troy in a seat across the aisle, whispering what I’m sure are sweet nothings in his ear. Typical. I chuckle, squeezing Marcus’ hand, and he kisses my head again. Troy’s best friend, Cooper, sits at the window seat in the next row back with Dean’s sister, Sophie, lying in his lap, her Kindle held above her face as he runs his fingers through her hair.

Maci and Dean’s parents, Marcus’ family, along with Avery’s husband, their kid, and a few other friends are flying down in a couple of days. The rest of us are going early to celebrate like a joint bachelor and bachelorette.

I do not envy those two planning their guest list. I know Dean’s dilemma with whether or not to invite his dad would be similar to one I’d have with my mom. She called about two months after we got home from New York to tell me that Beau was under investigation for disbarment. Of course I already knew that. Marcus’ lawyer felt obligated to file a grievance once they found hard proof that he was illegally winning cases. My mom attempted to disguise her holier-than-thou attitude as love and care for me, but I see right through it. She went on about how it’s a good thing I didn’t end up with him, and that if I was happy without money and felt safe, that’s what matters. I chose to keep a few facts about Marcus to myself because she doesn’t deserve to know. And she proved me right by dropping all communication with me since–assuming there’s no point in her maintaining a relationship that doesn’t benefit her. I’ve felt plenty of love from Marcus’ family, though, and Dad has visited twice already. It’s more than enough for me now, and I’m so thankful I’ve let go of my need for my mom’s approval.

Marcus leads me to the bedroom in the back, opens the door and guides me through with his hand on my lower back. Looking behind me, I catch Lexy shooting me a wink before we disappear into the room. Marcus closes the door, then backs me up against the queen bed covered in a fluffy white comforter. I fall backward on it, letting it consume me like a cloud. Glancing back to Marcus, I eye him, standing at the end of the bed, staring down at me.

“What?” I grin.

“A glimmer,” he says, his elbow propped on his hand across his chest as he runs his thumb across his bottom lip.

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