Page 92 of Accidental Fiancé

I stifled a laugh. I sounded like a stupid kid in my head, all fluff and no brains. Flowers and smiles, nothing but cocksure instinct on the matter. But I couldn’t deny how I felt, either. I belonged to this woman, heart and soul.

I brushed a lock of hair from her face gently so as not to wake her. She stirred but settled back into the crook of my arm, her fingers tightening briefly on my side as if, even in sleep, she didn't want to let go. If I hadn’t been hooked on her before, I was now.

I chuckled softly to myself, savoring the moment. I had never felt this way before, not with my ex-wife, not with anyone. The kind of peace that came from being with someone who just fit. Maggie fit in every way. And now that the dust had settled with Chloe and the lies were behind us, it felt like the future was something we could build together. It felt real. Or that it could be real.

All I had to do was reach out and grab it.

Carefully, I slid out from beneath her, making sure to tuck the blanket around her before slipping on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The mansion was quiet. Most of the chaos from earlier had dissipated, thankfully. I imagined Chloe left by now. That would explain the quiet. I needed it to clear my head and let the reality of what was happening sink in.

I padded softly down the hall, the hardwood cool beneath my bare feet. The farther I got from my bedroom, the more the familiar scent of cigar smoke teased my senses. The smell grewstronger as I approached the lounge, and I couldn't help but smile.

Yaya.

Sure enough, there she was, sitting in one of the oversized leather chairs, a cigar delicately held between her long fingers. There was something oddly comforting about the scent of cigars and the way it reminded me of my childhood.

As a family, we never spoke of Yaya’s affinity for cigars. My cousins procured her favorites for her, though. It was an unspoken rule. If you brought cigars to the house, you had to bring her favorite— Opus X Robusto—from the Dominican Republic. We’d hide them in her room for her so when she came to visit, she could sneak a few away from her daughter’s watchful eye.

Mom was in total denial about her habit. She thought cigars were trashy and she refused to associate her mother with anything unbecoming of a woman, so she pretended Yaya didn’t smoke them. Instead of blaming Yaya for the cigar smell in the lounge, Mom hassled me and my cousins as the cause for the scent. Even though I didn’t smoke them myself anymore, I’d always take the heat for Yaya to make Mom happy so she could go on pretending her mother wouldn’t do anything so unladylike. Maybe that was where I got my gift to pretend from.Thanks, Mom.

Marcus sat across from Yaya, staring into the fireplace with a glass of bourbon in his hand, a look of contemplation on his face.

“Ah, Julian!” Yaya called out as I entered. She waved her cigar around, a trail of smoke curling up toward the ceiling. “Couldn't sleep after all the excitement? You were in your room for an awfully long,loudnap.” She winked. “The halls echo, you know.”

Hot embarrassment rose in my chest. I took the chair next to her and brushed past the teasing. No point in denying whathappened when they heard… whatever they heard. I swallowed against a dry throat. “Mom's not around?”

Yaya chuckled, taking a long drag from her cigar. “She went for a swim with Piper and the other kids. She'll be in the pool for hours. We practically have the house to ourselves.”

I glanced at Marcus. His brow was furrowed, his eyes still fixed on the fire. Tension ridged his shoulders the same way he gripped his glass. White-knuckled. Steaming.

I leaned forward in my chair. “You doing okay, Marcus?”

He looked up as if only now noticing my presence. The tension transformed into something else, but I couldn’t read it. His voice was gruff. “I'll be fine.”

“You sure about that? You’re not looking too good.”

“Gee, thanks.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. Are you going to be okay about you and…” I didn’t want to say her name, it felt like breathing life into a corpse at this point. “Everything?”

“I always knew Chloe and I had an expiration date. I just didn't think it would be today, or that arson would be part of the reason, for fuck's sake?—"

“Language,” Yaya chided.

“Sorry, Yaya,” he said before returning his focus to me. “It was coming one way or another. At least some good can come of it, right? Apollo says he’s got a solid case against her already, with the confession and witnesses. Hopefully, Maggie will be able to get some closure on the whole thing…” He trailed off, sadness in his eyes, but also relief. Marcus had never been the type to hold onto something that didn't serve him. Even still, I knew this stung. I saw it on his face. Staring into the fire again, he uttered, “She had never been good to me. I think I knew that for a long time, but love, or whatever it was, makes you stupid, you know?”

I tried to sound supportive. “Better now than later. She was a poison. You deserve better.”

“I should have listened to you. Thanks for not pointing that out.” He took a sip of his drink. I let him sit with his thoughts and didn’t drag out the topic. It was the only way he would find his way through it.

I turned back to Yaya, watching as she puffed her cigar, her sharp eyes glinting in the firelight. She had been the matriarch of this family for longer than I had been alive, the glue that held us together. And in many ways, she knew more about each of us than we knew ourselves.

“Yaya,” I started, leaning back in my chair, “there's something I need to ask you.”

Her eyes flickered over me as one eyebrow raised out of curiosity. “Oh, and what's that, dear?”

I hesitated for a moment, but then I took a deep breath and said it. “I know you have a ring for each of us from the old country. The one you've been holding onto for my next bride. I want to give it to Maggie.”

She exhaled a long stream of smoke like a dragon. Her eyes narrowed in the way they always did when she was assessing something. “You never asked for it for your first wife, Julian. So why now? Why Maggie? What’s different about her?”

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