Page 67 of Wanted

“Are you going to take me to the wax museum?” I joke with him for the millionth time, making him roll his eyes in response.

“You’re out of your mind. I’m not going into that tourist trap,” he says.

“And I thought you were upping your game by making your wife happy,” I add, getting up on the balls of my feet to kiss his unshaven jaw. “Haven’t you heard that happy wife, happy life?”

His hands wrap around my waist as we wait our turn to pay. “It turns out, I know many other ways to make my wife happy, and none of them involve seeing celebrity wax figures.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You are so boring, Lionel.”

He laughs softly before murmuring in my ear, “I bet you will regret saying that later. I accept blow jobs as a payment method.”

“I married a romantic,” I sigh, complaining dramatically.

“I have my moments.” That is the last thing he says before it’s our turn to pay, and we leave the store holding hands to where the luxury black SUV that has been driving us around awaits.

“Where are we going now?” I ask him without taking my eyes off the window as the driver drives through the crowded streets. There is so much to see here, so many places I would love to go.

“The possibilities are endless,” he answers, and I’m sure it’s true. But I doubt the day will be long enough for that and he’s still recovering.

“What’s your plan?” I insist, and he puts his hand on my knee. The leather seats we are sitting on are separated, so more than a foot is between us.

“To make you happy, what else?”

And with that, our conversation is finished. It isn’t until the car stops in front of a small street that it’s impossible not to recognize. I’ve seen it thousands of times in magazines and movies, especially in Pretty Woman, one of my favorites. Alison and I must have seen it at least a hundred times.

We get out of the car at the foot of the stairs next to the jewelry famous for its blue boxes.

“Do you want to go in?” Lionel tugs on my hand when he realizes I’m carefully watching every detail of the vertical lines that adorn the stone façade.

“I can’t afford anything they sell in there, so window shopping is fine with me.”

He laughs. “You can buy whatever you want without thinking about it twice, believe me, we won’t be short on money just because you give yourself a little treat.”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, concentrating on the stores on the other side. Everything is just as I imagined, yes, but there are more people around.

“I don’t need any of that to be happy,” I declare. “Let’s go for a walk, it’s a lovely day and I don’t want to fight about money.”

“Who said we are going to fight about money?”

“Because you have no problem spending it and I prefer to be cautious.”

“What I said is…” he starts but I’m already going up the stairs, ignoring whatever he’s going to say.

I don’t want his money. Period.

In the middle of this, there is something I haven’t been able to forget. Lionel hid from me who he really was, his financial situation. He had his reasons, now I have mine for not trusting that if I receive something, it won’t come back to me like a boomerang and hit me in the face when I least expect it.

“You’re so stubborn, Stella,” he complains as soon as he catches up with me. “Tell me, did you bring an evening gown in your little suitcase, because you’re going to need one.”

Oh yes, and what for?

“I don’t plan to go to any party, thank you very much, so a dress isn’t necessary. And you know very well I don’t have one, I barely packed enough shirts when I came here, my mind was all over the place when I found out what happened.”

I turn to answer but I get distracted, he’s looking at me with his hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts. He looks so good with them and a simple cotton T-shirt on.

The man certainly won the genetic lottery.

“Are you not planning to go to the party Catherine Cole’s company is throwing for her clients?” he asks and he smiles a little.

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