Page 3 of Tips and Trysts

Tyler looks as disoriented as I feel—maybe more—because his brows are pinched so tightly that the separation between the two is basically negligible. “You’re married?” he questions, now an octave higher and raspier at the end.

“Two years now,” Everett says without missing a beat.

He’s using this thick, syrupy tone I’ve never heard before, but it’s effective. Almost at once, Tyler’s brow unfurrows and the lines on his face soften.

Everett extends his hand. “Martin Wells.” The lie slides off his tongue so easily that I nearly miss it.

“Tyler,” he answers while shaking Everett’s hand.

Everett nods. “A great name.”It isn’t. “My father’s name is Tyler.”It’s not. “He goes by his middle name though—James.”Where the hell is he getting this?“What’s your last name?”

“Shepherd,” Tyler responds, but he clips the end of his response like he only just realized he was giving out information he had no intention of sharing.

Everett bobs his chin, and I swear there’s a tinge of smugness behind the subdued smile on his face. He gives my waist another squeeze, pressing the bare skin where my crop top dangles above the waistband of my skirt. “Princess, tell me how you know Tyler,” he goes on, staring at me now.

Like Everett, I too am many things. A princess—least of all,hisprincess—definitely isn’t one of those things. My lips separate, ready to establish that I’ll never be this guy’s princess, when he boops me on the nose with the tip of his finger.

He fuckingboopsme.

“I said,” Everett presses, drawing out the words, “tell me how you know Tyler, princess.”

And usually when Everett speaks, his voice is flat. In fact, nearly everything about Everett is flat. His affect. His personality. His textbook smart boy/rich boy button-downs and slacks. From his slow, measured sentences to the way his shoes always match his belt, Everett screams bureaucracy. He practically wafts it like cologne, as if he’s politics made whole.

But tonight, when he calls me his wife—hisprincess—his voice isn’t flat for once. No, it’s jagged and piercing and a touch of a threat lives in it, buried behind the pretty words.

I don’t care.

I’m so entirely out of fucks to give when it comes to Everett Logan that I bet collectors on eBay are auctioning my rare, out of production fucks for a markup. I refuse to answer him.

He stares at me.

I stare back.

Five entire seconds pass.

…He’sstillstaring.

And I hate when his stare is drawn out and indecipherable like this. Because like I said,nearlyeverything about Everett is flat.

The glaring exception is his pretty face.

It’s so indescribablypretty. In the seven months we’ve known each other, we haven’t spent much time together—nearly every moment against our wills—but I’ve witnessed people stopping in their tracks to gawk at him. One time, we were out celebrating Valeria’s birthday, and Everett sneezed. I swear, half the peoplein the bar saidbless youlike they had been waiting for any opportunity to speak to him.

It’s Tyler who finally breaks the standoff between my new husband and me, saying, “Lilith and I just met.”

Lilith Lace. My camming alias.

“You’re a fan?” Everett asks, facing Tyler once more. “I’m not surprised. She’s amazing, isn’t she? I’m so proud of her.”

It’s the biggest lie he’s told tonight. Everett wouldneverwatch me stream. The mere thought of his credit card attached to a camming site would surely keep him awake at night, fretting about his political aspirations.

“You see, Tyler,” Everett goes on, “I know you’re a fan of my wife and I love it—I really do. And since you’re such a big fan, you understand how important it is for her to be safe, right?”

“Sure,” Tyler answers, bobbing his head. “I’d never hurt her, I—”

“But someone else might,” Everett interjects, tightening his grip. “Some other guy—someone without your decency—might hurt her. Since we’re friends now, Tyler Shepherd, let me level with you: If anyone were to hurt my fucking princess, I would be very,veryunhappy about it.”

My heart is a traitorous skank for increasing her pace when the wordsmy fucking princesspass over Everett’s lips.

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