Page 95 of Fractured Frets

“I’m not into buying unnecessary shit or wasting money either, but we need a car like this. I want to do what we just did again and again.” He reached over, cupped my face, and traced my jaw with his thumb. “The way your eyes lit up, and you let your inhibitions go, and that smile on your face would be worth it. I’d do anything to make you happy, Mads.”

“I don’t need another car.”

“That’s why I love you so much, but I want to spoil you every now and then.”

“Why?”

“You’re my wife.”

I smiled, but uncertainty plagued my mind. My heart constricted and ached. Dizziness spun through my head. I didn’t want to lose him, but reality kept hammering my skull. How can we work long-term?

“Maddy?” My name fell from his lips with a longing and plea that hurt my chest. He combed his fingers through my hair and hooked it behind my ear. “Talk to me. About us. It’s killing me not knowing where your head is at.”

“I know.” I covered his hand with mine and leaned into his touch. “We will. Tonight. I promise. This isn’t the ideal place. Can we just have a fun afternoon and talk when we get back to the villa?”

He moved his head a fraction in a nod. “Yeah. No more delays.”

I teased my fingers over his soft stubble. “Promise.”

Chapter 27

MADDY

We spent the glorious, sun-drenched afternoon in Monterosso. We had lunch in a café tucked away down some side street, were stopped by the occasional fan who recognized us and had selfies with them, and went swimming at one of the private beaches in the crystal-clear waters, jumping and diving off the rocks. But when the crowd on the shoreline grew more inquisitive, and a bunch of paparazzi photographed us with long-range lenses, Beckett got us out of there. On our quick route back to the car, Beckett cracked a huge smile when we ducked into a shop and bought him a triple-scoop chocolate gelato.

As the sun set, we hit the road and arrived back at the villa just in time for dinner. Hand in hand, Slip and I headed out on to the terrace where everyone was seated around the table.

“You two look like you had a good day?” Flint smiled over his beer. His face held a healthy glow, no doubt a result of his day at the spa with Sutton.

“We certainly did.” Slip planted a kiss on my cheek, then pulled out a chair for me.

But unease rocked low in my guts as we took a seat. Sitting across from Harper wasn’t ideal. We threw each other thin smiles as everyone continued to eat. The fact Slip only had eyes for me should’ve calmed me, but the flirtatious gazes Harper threw in Slip’s direction as she played with her tongue ring didn’t. But I’d take the upper hand and be nice.

“How was your day, Harper?” I asked as I filled Slip’s and my glasses full of wine. “What did you get up to?”

“Nothing much. I just hung out here by the pool.” She didn’t take her playful gaze off Slip as he chatted to Lewis. “Once Sloane took Flint and Sutton to the spa just down the road, he joined me. We just chilled. Read books. It was nice to have a few hours off from minding the kids.”

Sloane? The Flintlocks’ security team was here, resting and working when needed. I guessed there was nothing wrong with her hanging out with him when he wasn’t on duty. The team kept to themselves most of the time to ensure that client relations didn’t blur...Especially after what happened between Ava and Cole. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other.

Harper tore a soft bread roll in half and handed it to Charlotte, sitting next to her. “But it’s back to work now, hey, Charlotte?”

“Can we go swimming?” Charlotte stuffed the bread roll into her mouth, bit off a chunk, and showered her T-shirt in bread crumbs.

“After dinner.” Harper brushed the tip of Charlotte’s nose with her fingertip.

“Yay,” Charlotte hollered with her mouth full. “Can we swim all day tomorrow?”

“Yes. We’re not going anywhere.” Harper flicked her hair back and threw another mischievous glance at Slip. “It’ll be nice to hang out with the guys...and everyone...since I don’t see them much when they’re doing shows.”

“Me either.” Too much cattiness swayed in my tone as I put the bottle of wine down and did my best to remain civil. Was she trying to push my buttons? Piss me off? Upset me? Get into Slip’s pants? All the above? Ergh! “Tomorrow will be fun.” Yes, it will be. I’ll be with Slip.

Slip reached for the spinach and ricotta ravioli and loaded his plate. I did the same with a fresh Mediterranean salad. He stabbed a piece of ravioli with his fork and popped it into his mouth. He groaned as he chewed. “Mmmm. Oh, my fucking God. That is good.”

It was impossible not to giggle. What was with him and food? He’d had a food-gasm last night at his mom’s party, again at lunch today, and now, another one.

“Mads?” He stabbed another piece of pasta and held it toward my mouth. “Taste this. It’s to die for.”

“I don’t eat pasta.”

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