Page 52 of Miss Understood

Luce’s blonde hair fans out across the pillow, the sheet pulled up just barely over her breasts as she breathes shallow in her sleep. Never in my life did I think waking up next to a woman would be a good thing. I’m used to the awkward mornings after and trying to decide when it’s an appropriate time to bail. But waking up next to Luce is different, and I haven’t figured out how something that’s supposed to be temporary can feel so right.

“Hey.” Luce’s eyes peek open, and I realize she’s watching me get dressed.

“Sleep, it’s Sunday,” I say, sitting down on the bed.

She rolls toward me and wraps an arm over my lap as I lean down and plant a kiss on her temple. It’s like we’ve done it a million times. Like we’re a real couple who moves around each other as if that’s where we belong.

The more time Luce spends here, the more I question what makes a real couple anyway. Neither of us is built for relationships, so we’ve been blindly navigating this. Working, living, fucking. I had every intention of her sleeping in the guest room, but that didn’t end up happening. And even though her apartment still exists, a constant reminder of the impermanence of our situation, I can’t imagine the day on which Luce moves back into it.

“Have fun with Serena.” Luce smiles. She’s not jealous about sharing my time or insecure that I’m going out without her—qualities I’m used to in the women I’ve dated. She’s confident, independent. She feels like my equal.She’s perfect.

Luce folds herself back into the blanket. “Tell her I say hi.”

“Sure thing.” I lean down, kiss Luce a final time, and force myself away before I get lost between her legs again. Those long, smooth, milky legs that wrap around me perfectly.

It’s like she was meant for my body, every curve fitting perfectly against mine. Her scent is the most erotic thing I can imagine. Her lips are downright sinful.

I need to get out of here quick, or I’ll never hear the end of it from my sister.

It’s Sunday, and I’m never up this early unless I have to be at the office. But Serena is only in town for the day, to catch up with Valentina, so I agreed to have breakfast with her. Luckily, she’s meeting me before shopping, so I can avoid the tornado that is their friendship.

“When I said let’s grab breakfast, I meant at, like, a coffee shop, not a five-star restaurant, Mr. Moneybags.” Serena pulls down her sunglasses and lifts her eyebrows at me. Her hair is wound up in a tight bun with a single red streak running through it.

“It’s a café,” I tell her.

“Mm-hmm.” She sits across from me and picks up the menu.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t grow up with much, but once I started actually making money—and a lot of it—I started throwing it around without thinking much about it. Nice car, nicer apartment, expensive restaurants, custom suits. I’ve never given it much thought, but Serena’s comment stings a little.

I’ve worked hard for what I have, and I’ve done my part to give back to my parents for everything they did to help get me here. What’s wrong with enjoying the lifestyle I’ve built for myself?

“What time are you meeting up with Valentina?” I ask, glancing over the menu.

“Not for a couple hours. And she’s meeting me at the pier, so you don’t have to worry about seeing her.” Serena not-so-subtly rolls her eyes. “I’m not sure why you have such an issue with her.”

“It’s not her I have an issue with,” I say. “But I’m not going to be subjected to whatever circle of hell you two are planning on playing around in today. If I remember correctly, last time I stuck around for Ser-Val friendship time, I ended up with painted toenails.”

Serena belts out a laugh at the memory. Being older than them didn’t keep them off my back. If anything, they just wanted to mess with me more.

“So, how’s the wifey?” Serena says, folding her menu and tapping her zebra-print talons against her water glass. Her nails are even longer than they were last time I saw her; they’re bordering on weapons.

“She’s good.” I shrug.

“She’s good.” Serena tips her chin down and looks up at me. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

“Luce says hello,” I add, trying to avoid Serena’s shovel, which is already out, and she has plans to dig.

The waitress swings by and takes our orders. Serena’s eyes don’t leave me the whole time, even when the waitress bends down and shows a little too much interest, and Serena lets out an amused scoff.

“You’re screwing her, aren’t you?” Serena says with another tap of her nails.

“The waitress?” I say, just to be difficult. “No, can’t say that I am.”

Serena glares at me, not letting it go.

“What does it matter? She’s my wife.” The second the words leave my mouth, I wish I could reel them back in. The last thing I need are Serena’s judgments about my sex life. Not to mention the fact that anything I say to her will immediately get back to Mateo, and that risks it all circling back to Luce.

“I’m trying really hard to wrap my head around this,” Serena says. “You don’t date, haven’t brought a single woman home to meet Mom and Dad. And yet, somehow, you end up accidentally married, and you don’t immediately try to end it. Instead, you move her into your apartment and say it’s complicated. I don’t buy it.”

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