Page 85 of Wildest Dreams

I grabbed orange juice from the fridge and gulped it straight from the carton.

“Me too!” Grav piped up from above my head. I reached to give her some, and she held the carton clumsily. Orange juice poured down my face and onto some of my Prada shirt, and for once, I didn’t care.

I turned around to Dylan and Tucker, chuckling. “Grav decided my shirt should be orange, not white.”

Dylan’s expression was whimsical, charmed, almost pained. “It suits you,” she croaked softly.

My eyes flashed to Tucker. I saw the stain of ketchup on his shirt and immediately understood.

“Tucker, it’s time for you to leave,” Dylan said.

He opened his mouth, about to argue, then glanced at me and groaned. “Fine. Gravity, come say goodbye,” he barked at her. Like she was his dog or something.

“Grav needs to go down for her nap,” I informed him unflappably. I knew her schedule by heart, thanks to our time together. “Bye, Tuckwad.”

That made Gravity giggle even though she didn’t get the reference.

I took her to her room to tuck her in and rolled down the blackout blinds. Kissed her forehead. Gave her some daily words of affirmation. “You’re cute. You’re smart. You keep Uncle Rhyland from saying bad words because he can’t afford your fees.” I winked.

“Oh, I wove you, Uncle Rhyrand.”

“I like you too, little stinker.” And as I left her room and closed the door behind me, I realized that wasn’t even a lie anymore.

Dylan was waiting for me in the living room with two tall glasses of white wine. I checked my watch. I’d already sold all my Patek Philippe, Rolex, and Cartier, and now I was sporting an embarrassing Michele Deco Madison. At this rate, I was going to show up to Bruce’s place with a fucking Apple Watch.

“It’s only two,” I pointed out.

She shrugged. “I needed something stronger than coffee.”

“I’d have volunteered my dick.” I sauntered over to her, grabbing a glass of wine from her outstretched hand and taking a sip. “Did you like my flowers today?”

She grinned. “I did. Mine hasn’t arrived yet, though.”

I waved her off. “You could be carrying the Spanish flu and I’d still tap that.”

She pressed her face to my shoulder, breathing me in, and I instinctively curled an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “Was it that bad?”

“Oh, worse.” She kissed the exposed sliver of skin peeking through my shirt. It gave me a glimpse at who Dylan could’ve been if Tucker and her dad hadn’t collectively shat on her trust in men, and I was low-key mad at them for doing that.

She’d have made a great real fiancée. Not that I was looking for one.

“He tried to pitch me a restaurant idea and asked if he could send Row a proposal. Every time Grav tried to speak to him, he either ignored her or barked at her that he was speaking. And before you came in, I think he meant to kiss me, even though I flat out told him I’d rather die than give him another chance.”

“Hey, you gave it a try, and it turned out he is as much of a failure as a dad as he is as a partner and a human.” I hitched a shoulder up. “At least you tried.”

“It’s not that simple. He can obtain visitation rights with or without my consent. Especially in New York. I looked into it. It makes more sense for me to play along and give him supervised access to Grav. I’ve a feeling he’ll tire out once he realizes he won’t be able to get his hands on Row’s money or my ass.”

I tensed, the realization he was here to stay in their lives chilling me. “Well, I want you to call me every time he’s here so I can help you supervise him.”

She let out a chuckle. “Come on, Rhy. You have your own life. You can’t babysit me.”

“Life’s about priorities, Cosmos. And my priority is not to hear about you getting assaulted by that prick.”

We sipped our wine, and I let her vent about Tuckwad for a while before Dylan announced she needed to take a shower.

“I took one earlier today but got sweaty at the zoo,” she explained.

“Cool.” I looked around, searching for something to do. “Netflix and chill afterward?”

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