Page 86 of One Wealthy Wedding

The clock in the eerily silent gym reads 6:23 a.m. Theo swipes blankets from the basket by the door and leads me onto the deck, where the pool is silent and covered, a far cry from the other night. The plantings shush gently in the predawn air. The sky is light, half night, half day. Theo leads me to the loungers on the east side of the building, where there’s a small table and a white box.

“What’s that?”

“Pastries,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “From my favorite bakery.” He gives me an embarrassed smile, like he was caught doing something naughty.

“I like pastries,” I say softly. My throat is tight.

Why would he do this? Why would he make the list special and fun for me?

All the cars. Pick one.

You do the list with me, or you divorce me.

He got up early to get pastries.

My foolish heart knows the answer immediately. This is Theo. This is what he does. He lives his life in the spotlight and he pulls others along with him. This is exactly what he did when we were kids.

“You pick first,” he says, holding out the box.

I pick an apricot pastry, delicately glazed and studded with pistachios. I take a bite and nearly moan at the taste.

“Good, right?” Theo settles on the lounge chair, propping an arm behind his head.

“Now I can’t be mean to you,” I say, and he grins.

“Don’t change on my account. I like your sharp tongue.” He leers at me, looking like a movie villain.

“Is that what gets you off?” The words pop out, and Theo and I both still.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice gravel.

The roughness of his tone plucks at my insides. Is that how he would sound with my mouth on him?

“It’s too early for that.” He runs a hand over his face.

“It’s on the list,” I say faintly.

His gaze sharpens. “What is?”

Learn to give a really good blowjob. Theo could teach me what he likes, and the hard thump of my heart tells me I’d really like to learn.

“Blowjobs. I’m auditioning men who only last two minutes, actually. You’re perfect.”

“With that mouth of yours?” His tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Give me ninety seconds.” He looks away. “Forget I said that. In fact, let’s eat in silence.” His voice is pained. I look down at his thin lounge pants. The fabric is tented where he’s hard.

That’s what you do. If you’re big. I swallow.

“The list did raise some questions for me,” he says after a minute. “Did you not have underwear before?”

“Of course I did.” My cheeks redden, and I look at the horizon, where the sky is growing lighter. “But I’ve never had lingerie.”

“No boyfriend ever bought it for you?” Theo’s voice is careful.

“I didn’t have many boyfriends.” I don’t meet his eyes. Theo’s had nothing but flings and short-term girlfriends from age twenty until two months ago.

“Proof once again that men are idiots,” he says lightly.

“I wouldn’t have wanted it anyway,” I say. “The point was to get it for myself.” I pause, uncertain I want to share this with him. “My parents picked most of my clothes.” My eyes lift to his, waiting for judgment.

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